‘Get on your way, will you? For Christ’s sake, my wife might come along to see me at any moment. You were good, but you weren’t that good to think you can take up residence. Get out – and get out now!’

Lifting herself off the bed, Betsy felt hatred of this man grind into her. He’d taken her and changed her. He’d changed everything, and not for the better. She’d get her own back on him.

Standing, she faced him. She saw a beauty in his nakedness, but it had no effect on her as she grabbed the bodice of her dress where he’d undone the buttons and, with an almighty effort, tore it open.

‘What are you doing? Stop that!’

Not heeding him, Betsy took hold of her hair and tugged it out of the clips that held it, before scraping her nails across her face and then across her breasts.

Harold looked at her in horror. He moved towards her, but she stopped him in his tracks as she attacked him, tearing his skin with her nails, kicking him and beating him with her fists. When finally he managed to push her off, she screamed with such force that her throat hurt.

As he stood and gaped at her, she ran for the door, letting her knickers fall around her ankles. Once outside the room, she hollered, ‘Help me, please – someone, help me.’

Chapter Ten

Mags stood, looking out of the window of her bedroom, the room she hadn’t left since her world had crashed around her three days ago. A place where her mind had been blank, unable to let everything in.

Even now her face was wet with tears, and yet she wasn’t crying. Not in the way she’d sobbed when her mother died, or cried after so many events in her life. Her heart was crying. Crying for her beloved friend, Betsy. And yes, for her lost love. For Harold had to be lost to her now. There was no going back. For him to rape anyone would have resulted in this distress, but for it to have been dear Betsy. Oh God, how am I ever to get over this utter humiliation?

But no, she didn’t matter. Betsy mattered. And Bill. What this had done to him, Mags could only imagine, and when he was facing his operation, too.

On top of that, Betsy’s mother was failing fast. And I can’t go to Betsy – I can’t. I can’t face her. I feel so guilty. I knew what Harold was like. Knew that he’d tried before, with Betsy. How could I have carried on with my selfish wishes and put her in such danger?

The pent-up emotion inside her felt as though it would choke her. Her body began to creep with a dirty feeling, as the rape of herself by the German soldier came into focus to mock her. The trembling of her body started up once more with these memories, and she went towards her bed and lay down. She welcomed the mist that descended over her, blocking out reality, leaving her unable to feel, unable to think.