As Betsy said goodbye to Iris, she felt she’d made a friend. Someone who wished for something that was dear to her own heart – the welfare of Mags.

Chapter Sixteen

Mags waited and waited for the promised visit. Her heart had been lifted since Iris returned with news of the outcome of her talk to Dr Lange, and even more so by knowing that Betsy had been there. That dear Betsy hadn’t given up on her was such a good thing to hear.

And so it was possible Harold was paying to have reports sent that indicated she was still mentally deranged? My God, does his wickedness know no bounds? But then Mags knew it didn’t, as she thought of the other news. Hearing it had caused pain in her heart, not that she really cared, but rejection in favour of another woman was always going to hurt, she knew that. And she didn’t doubt that the so-called ‘nurse’ was Susan, Harold’s true love – that’s if he was capable of such a thing.

Every woman – including herself and Betsy – was taken by Harold to gain something he wanted. She could understand what he wanted from her, but from Betsy? Maybe it was just sexual gratification, but hadn’t I given him that? Oh, I don’t know. One minute I think I have got to the bottom of Harold’s true character, and the next I know that I haven’t. And that is worrying.

As she paced the garden, Mags thought of how long she’d been here now. More than eight weeks – it didn’t seem possible. She knew she’d deteriorated during that time. Her hair was lank and greasy, her eyes were like dead pools of dirty water, and the whites had yellowed from lack of sleep; and the gowns they were made to wear swamped her too-thin figure. She was still not eating well, as she found it hard to stomach some of the slop served up at mealtimes, and she had lost more than the few pounds she’d gained over the period when she was so happy to be married to Harold.

‘Mrs Roford.’ Iris’s voice brought Mags’s attention back to the present. Iris always called her that when on official business, or if afraid she might be heard, even though she called most inmates by their first names. It was a precaution she took, as she said she didn’t want to appear to be getting too close to her or she might be reassigned to another case.

Walking towards Iris, Mags could feel an aura of excitement in the way Iris was almost skipping, and this jolted her hopes sky-high. ‘Has he come? Dr Lange – is he here?’

‘He is. Oh, Mags, he is. But keep calm, lass. I reckon as we’re being watched, so don’t hug me, nor owt. Slow down and we’ll walk back, like a nurse and patient would.’

Once inside, Iris took Mags to a room she hadn’t been in before. The sign on the door announced it as being the ‘Visitors’ waiting room’. She’d envied those who’d had visits from family and friends. She had longed for someone to come and see her, but it hadn’t happened. Harold obviously wouldn’t want to see her, but she’d hoped Betsy would find a way. She’d understood why she hadn’t come, as it was a long way and the only method was by car or horse and trap, and Betsy hadn’t recourse to either of these modes of transport.