The doctor didn’t answer. Mags wanted to scream at them both again. How could they be discussing her like this, but although she knew Harold’s lies were being believed, everything seemed so unreal and she felt detached from what was happening. Nothing would sink in, except that her darling father was ill and needed her. ‘Please let me go to Daddy.’

‘She is reverting to childlike behaviour now. It is as I said: signs of a psychotic episode due to trauma. Not a lot is known about it, but I think a spell in the institution would greatly benefit her. It will take her away from where the recent trauma has occurred – either real, as in losing her mother, or unreal, as in what she believes you have done. She needs to talk about her wartime experiences, too. If we can get her to do that, I have every hope that she will soon be well. I ordered the ambulance to come here, based on what you told me on the phone had been happening. I am glad I did, as we mustn’t waste a moment. They are waiting outside now.’

Realization hit Mags once more. ‘No. No, please don’t do this. Please. I told you, it’s him. Him! He has done this to me. No – o – oo!’

A sharp sensation in Mags’s arm stopped her screams. The room began to swim. The voices of Harold and the doctor drifted away as she felt herself floating into a long, long tunnel. A feeling of peace overcame her, and she gave herself up to the blessed relief of it.

Betsy stared at the letter from Bellinge, Solicitors. ‘No. Oh dear God!’

Dear Mrs Bainwright,

We act for Mr Harold Roford of Feniscowles Manor, Feniscowles, Blackburn.

This is to notify you that our client is seeking to sue you for wrongful accusation and bringing his name into disrepute.

The consequences of your action have caused his wife to have a mental breakdown, and his father-in-law to collapse under the strain you have put the family under.

We will be asking for these circumstances to be taken into consideration, if judgement is made against you.

This case will be heard on the twenty-ninth day of April in the year 1921 in the County Court in Preston. The case will be judged by a jury, presided over by the District Judge at eleven a.m.

You are hereby summoned to attend.

Yours sincerely

For Mr Roford,

Arkwright Bellinge

Every limb shook, as Betsy backed towards a chair. Oh, Mags, dear Mags, what have I done to you? A holler came from her mouth. ‘What have I done? Naw . . . naw!’ Tears mingled with her snot as, unable to close her mouth, she gasped out the sobs that racked her body. Her mind screamed at her: You did this, you vile creature! And she knew the guilty truth. Why? Why did I want him? What possessed me in those moments? I was like an animal!