Chapter Four
Theo hated secrets. This one had been easy enough to keep, so far, since nobody had asked her anything about it.
Nobody knew to ask her anything, except Uncle Crudge.
Still, her knees wobbled as she climbed the narrow stairs of the Cottage Home to visit Missy.
She had pins and needles in her hands, and knew that the nerves were all to do with what might have happened.
The thought of it was following her around like a shadow.
St Agnes’s occupied an ancient, thatched longhouse with five bedrooms all in a row.
Only the matron, Mrs Vine, had one to herself, and up to twenty girls lived there at any one time, being saved from themselves – from poverty, temptation, dissolution and all the rest. Besides Mrs Vine, who was appointed and paid by the Ladies’ Association, they had a local woman who came to teach them the basics of cookery.
The girls did everything else themselves, as well as laundry and sewing for third parties.
A bed became free when a girl turned fifteen, as long as she was going to a position, or a marriage.
Otherwise, she could stay on till eighteen, at which point she’d be out on her ear, albeit with a good reference.
The mattress on which Missy was sitting would sleep four, top to toe, come night-time.
The whitewashed walls were flaking; the floor was bare but for a rag rug either side of the bed.
There were no personal possessions anywhere, just a shared jug and bowl on the washstand, and hooks along one wall for clothes.
With a bandage around her head, holding a wad of gauze above her left temple, Missy looked cross. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ she said. ‘Who ever knew being idle was so bloody dull? Why didn’t you come yesterday?’
‘Well, I . . . I thought it might be better to let news of your fall get about, first. It might have looked suspicious if I’d come the very next day.’
‘Oh yes.’ Missy smirked. ‘My fall.’
Theo faltered. ‘You have been telling people that you simply fell on the stairs, haven’t you? If my mother knew that we . . . that I’d—’
Missy waved her quiet. ‘Yes, yes, don’t bleat.’
‘How are you? Is it very painful?’
‘Not so bad,’ Missy said. ‘Better than yesterday. If I move about too much it aches. I was up and at my chores this morning but it made me so giddy I got seasick, so matron sent me to lie down.’ She sighed.
‘Every working hour I dream about resting, and now I’m resting, turns out I’d far rather be up and doing. Ma always said I was contrary.’
There were no chairs, so Theo perched on the edge of the mattress and reached for her friend’s hand. ‘Oh, Missy, why on earth did you goad Kit that way?’
‘I didn’t goad him, I only said I didn’t think he could do it.’
‘But you know that’s the same thing!’
Missy pulled her hand away grumpily. ‘It wasn’t my fault.
The cider got me all silly . . . I didn’t know what he was up to!
In any case, I’m the one with a lump on the head, not him.
’ She brightened. ‘But never mind that. Tell me what you and Toby said to each other – or better still, what you did.’ Missy grinned.
‘Did he promise anything? Is there an understanding?’
Theo could still feel his hand holding hers, and touching the side of her face. She could still see his eyes, burning into hers. But then he’d been so angry at the end; as angry with her as with Missy. ‘He said he’d write to me,’ she said, hoping it still stood.
Missy’s face fell. ‘Is that it?’
‘But that’s a lot, Missy! It means I’ll still hear from him. That he’ll . . . miss me. He won’t forget about me.’
‘But he didn’t kiss you?’
‘I thought . . . I think he was going to.’ She gazed up at the wonky ceiling beams. ‘He held my hand, and my face – like this – and he looked at me like . . . Oh, I don’t know how to describe it!’
‘Then what?’
‘Well . . . then we heard Kit shouting, and Toby ran to see what was up.’
‘Oh. Pity. So, what’ll you do now?’
‘What do you mean?’
Missy rolled her eyes. ‘Well, he doesn’t go up north for months, does he? You’ll see him before that, won’t you? Before all this very important letter-writing starts?’
Theo nodded.
‘Maybe a few more midnight trysts?’
‘Missy!’
‘What is it you upper-types do, then?’
Theo had no idea. In truth, she hadn’t thought past getting to talk to him by himself.
Getting him to notice her again. Now, having done that – at least, she thought she had – What next?
was daunting. She was saved from having to answer by the creak of footsteps on the stairs, and a knock at the door.
Missy pulled a haughty face and did her best impression of a lady. ‘Come.’
The door opened and a man ducked beneath the jamb. He had a head of thick, light-brown curls, and straightened up with a smile for each of them. Theo recognised him – the physician who’d been called out to Hallewell House the winter before, to see one of the guests.
‘Well, now,’ he said. ‘I know that you are Theodora Hallewell – how do you do? So, you must be Melissa Cartwright.’
He held out his hand and Missy shook it, looking a little undone. Theo went blank for a moment, but then remembered his name.
‘Dr Anscombe. It’s nice to see you again.’
‘Is it? Oh, good.’ A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. ‘I often think – in my line of work – that I must be the very last person people wish to see.’
The doctor set his bag down on the floor.
‘Missy,’ Missy said quietly. ‘Everyone calls me Missy.’
‘Very well, then.’
She looked astonished. ‘Matron never went and called you?’
‘She most certainly did, and she was quite right to.’
‘But I’m right as rain, really. It only hurts if I poke it, or bend over.’
‘Head injuries can be unpredictable.’
Dr Anscombe undid his cuffs and turned them up.
‘Should I . . . leave?’ Theo asked.
Missy nodded, but the doctor spoke over her.
‘There’s no need, Miss Hallewell. I’m sure it does Missy good to have a friend standing by.
’ He turned back to the patient. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind angling your face towards the window – yes, I know it’s bright.
I’m going to cover your eyes one at a time, but please keep both of them open, so I may see the effect of the light upon your pupils. ’
Missy did as she was told, following the doctor’s every move with none of her customary archness.
‘Very good. Now, to the wound itself.’
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to unfasten Missy’s bandage.
‘Are you dizzy? Mrs Vine said you’d been feeling sick? And is it hurting less now than before, or more? A tumble on the stairs, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ Missy said, her big eyes fixed on his.
‘They are so very narrow and twisting in these old cottages, it’s hardly surprising.’
Missy winced as the gauze fell away. The doctor held her head steady and peered at the wound, and Theo craned forwards.
In truth, there wasn’t much to see. A graze with a cut at its centre, that started at the top edge of her forehead and disappeared into her hair.
It didn’t look very deep, though it had bled enough at the time, and the whole area had swollen into a greenish egg.
Theo stared at it and began to feel sick herself.
‘It has been well cleaned,’ the doctor observed.
‘Matron did it,’ Missy said. ‘And she was none too gentle.’
‘And were you actually unconscious for any length of time?’
‘Well . . . one of the other girls came when she heard me fall – Joanna. She says it was only for about a minute. Not even that.’
‘Any loss of consciousness could be serious, Missy. However, I suspect it is a common enough concussion, and nothing more.’
‘Oh.’
‘But, pay attention now, because this is very important: if you begin to feel any worse you must either call me again, or come to see me at the hospital in Shaftesbury – I am the in-house surgeon there. If the nausea continues, or your eyes become sensitive to the light, or you feel dizzy or very sleepy. All right?’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
Now Missy found her smile again, and that artful dip of her eyelashes.
‘In fact,’ he went on, ‘perhaps I should see you again in any case. In two or three days’ time, just to check that your symptoms have abated and there is no infection.
We should be able to leave the dressing off at that point, but I’ll redo it for now.
’ He thought for a moment. ‘Yes. I will ask Mrs Vine to excuse you on Saturday. How’s that? ’
‘All right.’ Missy beamed. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’
‘I could ask Mama if Peterson can take you in the dog cart,’ Theo said.
‘That would be most kind, Miss Hallewell,’ Dr Anscombe said. ‘Far better for Missy not to have to walk – it must be ten miles, there and back again.’
He refastened the dressing, and his cuffs, and took his leave. Missy waited until they heard the front door thump behind him before sighing extravagantly.
‘Holy Jesus and all the flaming saints!’ she swore. ‘Did you ever see a more beautiful man?’
Theo couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Did you think so?’
‘Did you not?’
‘Not especially.’
‘You only have eyes for your Sir Lancelot, I suppose.’ Missy laced her fingers across her lap in a determined sort of way. ‘So much the better, as we shan’t come to blows. For I shall marry that man or die in the attempt.’
‘Missy! What if he already has a wife?’
‘The world wouldn’t be so cruel – but if he has, she’d better watch out!’
Their laughter soothed Theo’s nerves.
‘Dr Anscombe is very good,’ she said. ‘One of our guests had such a nasty turn last winter. He looked so bad I thought he must die, but Dr Anscombe knew exactly what the problem was, and what to do about it.’
‘What was it?’
‘A stone in his kidney. Dr Anscombe took it out, and the man was right as rain.’
‘He cut into him to take it out? Into his kidney?’ Missy was incredulous.
‘Yes. Imagine that?’
‘How . . . How on earth does a stone get into a kidney?’
‘Well . . . I haven’t the faintest idea. But there it was.’