A meal cart was wheeled into the ward and an unappetizing stew was sloshed onto plates. I tried to sit up without letting the watching nurse know I was in pain. I was extremely hungry but could manage only a couple of mouthfuls of the glutinous mess in my bowl. This would be a quick way of killing off the patients, I wanted to say, but I could not see a glimmer of humor in any of the faces around me. The woman who had been snoring was now being fed and dribbles of stew ran down her chin, like Liam when I was feeding him, but far less appealing.
Only one day, I told myself. Tomorrow I’d be safely with Sid and Gus and they’d be making me laugh and spoiling me. Then, of course, I began to worry. Sid and Gus led very active lives. They were always attending meetings with their suffragist sisters, salons with fellow painters and writers. What if they couldn’t or wouldn’t take Liam today? What would Daniel do then? And would I feel well enough tomorrow to look after a lively and curious one-year-old?
I must have drifted off to sleep again because I awoke, instantly alert, to a feeling of danger—the same feeling that had accompanied me to the train station that morning. I sat up with some difficulty and looked around. The ward lay silent, with most of its occupants sleeping. Light was fading, but I couldn’t tell whether it was because it was approaching evening or the rain clouds had made the day even more gloomy. A nurse walked through the ward, her feet clacking on the linoleum floor. She nodded when she saw me. “Oh, you’re awake. Doctor left you some medicine to take away the pain and help you sleep.”
“Thank you, but I’m sure I can sleep without taking anything,” I said.
“Best do what the doctor prescribes,” she said. “But you don’t need to take it until after you’ve had your dinner. Don’t want to fall asleep and miss that delicious food, do we?” And she gave just the hint of a smile.
I propped a pillow behind my back and looked around me. How quiet everything was. Unnervingly quiet, as if I was lying in a morgue. I shuddered and thought of the bodies I had seen lying on the sidewalk. And then I saw someone coming toward me—her black smoking jacket and emerald green pantaloons an amazing contrast to the starched whiteness of the ward.
“Here you are,” Sid said, hurrying over to my bed. “I’ve had a devil of a time. Some awful old crone tried to tell me that visiting hours were over. From two to four only, she said. So I went around the corner and waited until she’d gone, then slipped inside. But I didn’t know which ward you were in. I went into the men’s ward by mistake—imagine the look on their faces when they saw me.” And she laughed. I tried to laugh too but my side hurt. Sid noticed. “Are you in pain? Daniel said you only had bumps and bruises.”
“The doctor thinks I might have cracked a rib. I’ve only just discovered that laughing hurts. I hadn’t had a chance to laugh all day in a place like this.”
“I should think not. It’s like a morgue in here, isn’t it?” She looked around, then gave a guilty grin as she realized her voice echoed from tiled walls.
“How’s Liam doing?” I asked.
“Absolutely splendidly. Delighted to see his aunts again, and of course we have such interesting things to play with.”
“Daniel was afraid it might be your knife collection or hookah.” We exchanged a smile.
“We’re saving those for tomorrow,” she said. “But my dear, we can’t leave you in this house of horrors overnight. Why don’t I take you home with me right now?”
“I haven’t been given leave to go,” I said.
“Nonsense. There are ways around things like that. Hold on a minute.” She opened the briefcase she carried instead of a purse, pulled out a pad of paper, and sat down on my bed to write. I had no idea what she was writing and couldn’t see over her shoulder. But when she had finished, she handed it to me.
“That should do the trick,” she said.
I read what she had written. I am Mrs. Sullivan’s personal physician and give my permission to discharge her to my care in a private nursing home. I looked up at her twinkling eyes. “Sid, you are wicked.”
“Well, do you want to come or don’t you? We’ve a feather mattress waiting, and I believe Gus is cooking duck breast in orange sauce.”
“If you put it like that, help me up. But I’ve no idea where they put my things, or what we’re going to say if they summon the doctor who examined me.”
Sid was scrabbling in the small bedside cabinet. “Your things appear to be in here. Oh, dear—your dress is rather the worse for wear, I’m afraid. We’ll have to go and retrieve a change of clothing for you and Liam from your flat in the morning, but in the meantime Gus has a host of pretty nightgowns and fluffy slippers, so you’ll be quite comfortable.”