As he went to leave, the duty solicitor came over to Betsy. ‘I believe you, Mrs Bainwright. And because I do, I’m going to do my best to defend you. Now I want you to gather some character witnesses. People of note; people who will speak for you. This latest development tells me that the judge is beginning to believe your version of events, and so we may yet win. If we do, I will counter-claim for compensation for you, because in effect your name has been slandered, too.’

‘Aye, and I’ve suffered loss an’ all. Mr Roford is me landlord and he’s given me notice to quit, so I’m to be homeless. And, well, me ma died. I ain’t putting that at his door, but it’s breaking me heart.’

‘Yes, yes, well, I’m sorry. I can do nothing about that, but about you losing your house and your livelihood, I can. So go home, get busy finding those witnesses, but leave the surgeon to me. Give my clerk his name, and the name of the hospital he works at, and then try to get a good night’s sleep. Because I think your troubles may be over. Good day.’

Betsy climbed down from the witness box. My troubles over? Naw, they were just beginning, as she saw it, no matter the outcome.

For aren’t I without me ma now, and jobless, with few prospects; and me Bill will find it hard to get work. It might be as I can keep me cottage, but there is still the rent to pay and five hungry mouths to feed. And all that on top of what is happening to Mags. Eeh, naw, me troubles won’t be over – they’ll just be getting bigger.

Chapter Fourteen

Moans and sobs kept Mags awake. Since being moved to the general ward, life had got worse, not better. Now she was housed in a long ward that contained rows and rows of beds, almost head-to-feet. This was meant to be a progression, but although she never thought she would, Mags longed to be back in her solitary cell.

The stench reminded her of her time in Brussels, as it assaulted her nostrils – human excrement, sweaty, dirty bodies and urine clogged the air around her. But worse than the smell was the sense of misery. The atmosphere was heavy with the emotions of these poor lost women. Somewhere inside their minds they remembered a different life, as their agonizing cries were for their babies or their mothers. Mags longed to help them, but if she tried, they became suspicious of her and lashed out.

The sound of shuffling feet alerted her. One of the women had got out of bed. She raised herself onto one elbow and looked round, peering through the dim light. The figure came towards her. Mags pulled her covers over her and fear clenched her stomach muscles.

Feeling the covers being torn from her compounded that fear. ‘What – what do you want? Please go back to bed.’