by Linda Finlay
‘Then she can clean out the sluice room and you can scrub all of them yourself,’ the guard snapped, glaring at Rowan. ‘Ah, there’s the bell,’ she said, looking up as the shrill ring sounded around the building.
Thankful their interview was at an end, they turned to go. ‘What a shame you will have to miss your tea,’ the guard called after them. ‘Go directly to your dormitories and get into bed.’ They could hear her cruel laughter following them as they made their way up the stairs.
Susan grimaced at Rowan. ‘It’s bad enough being in this place without witnessing them enjoying our punishment.’
Rowan nodded.
Then Susan sniffed, making Rowan giggle. Linking arms, together they sniffed their way up the stairs and all the way along the corridor until they came to the dormitories.
‘Wish we shared the same one,’ Rowan said.
‘Me, too,’ Susan agreed. ‘Oh, well, little un, see you in the morning. What a fun time we’re in for, eh?’ she said, and then gave a big sniff as she made her way into the room.
CHAPTER 17
Quickly Rowan undressed and, once under her cover, began pondering how she could get to see the superintendent. First, she needed to find out exactly when his visit would take place. She must have fallen into a doze for the next thing she knew, the others were coming into the room. There followed the usual loud rustle of material as they undressed, and then creaking as they climbed into their beds. Finally, when all had gone quiet, Rowan began to plan. But it wasn’t long before a high-pitched wail rent the room, and guessing what was coming, she hid her head under her blanket. Sure enough, moments later, the others joined in and before long the room resounded to their howling and keening. Rowan shuddered. She’d never heard anything like it before she came here, even in the shippon at calving.
As the scenario from previous nights was repeated, Rowan lay still. Then, as the dormitory quietened, she made out the shape of a figure hovering beside her bed. This time, though, she stayed for longer and Rowan just knew it was Sharp. Determined not give the woman any reason to think she was awake, she adopted the tactics she’d used when playing hunter and prey with Sab. Forcing her mind to go blank and her body heavy, she slowed her breathing and counted backwards from 100. Finally, when she’d reached twenty, the woman gave a deep sigh and left the room, locking the door behind her. Rowan lay there waiting for the clicking of her footsteps to die away, wondering what on earth she could have done for the woman to single her out in such a way.
By morning, the effect of Rowan’s scant diet and missed meals caught up with her. With her stomach growling in protest, she made her way to the dining hall. She was careful to ask for porridge and was duly given a slice of bread and scrape. It was a different guard serving, but evidently that didn’t seem to matter. Obviously, it was some kind of game to them, and they all adopted the same contrary tactics. As she ate, she looked around the room but could see no sign of Susan. However, Sharp was smirking in her direction. A shudder shivered down her spine, and she hoped her friend was all right. Perhaps the baby had decided to come in the night.
Sniffer, as Rowan had named her, was waiting for her as she came in from the airing courts.
‘This way,’ she ordered, leading Rowan to a storeroom. ‘Bucket and brushes in there,’ she snarled. ‘Follow me,’ she barked, leading the way to the sluice and filling the bucket with water. Then she added a measure of vile-smelling solution.
Rowan wrinkled her nose and just had time to register that Susan wasn’t there when Sniffer started talking again.
‘When you’ve finished scrubbing the first dormitory, make sure you clean the corridor outside. Do a thorough job because I shall be back to inspect your work, and there’ll be trouble if I find one speck of dirt,’ she said, her eyes narrowing. Then, with a sniff and wipe of her nose, she strode away.
Rolling up her sleeves, Rowan got on her knees and started to scrub. As she cleaned, she thought, and as she thought, she planned. She needed to find out when the superintendent was due but who would tell her? Perhaps Ma Robbins would, but then it didn’t look as though Rowan would be reassigned to the sewing room. Ma Steeples had seemed kind, but how did Rowan find her way back to the laundry room? She remembered when she’d arrived she’d been led along a dingy corridor and down a flight of jagged steps, but then everywhere here was a maze of drab corridors and stone steps.
She did hope Susan was all right. Maybe she’d appear this afternoon for their turn about the airing courts. Sighing as her sleeves fell down over her hands, she pushed them back yet again, and went back to her scrubbing. Working methodically from the back of the dormitory to the doorway, she finally reached the corridor. Getting to her feet, she stretched her stiff back and rubbed her sore knees. Her poor hands were red and raw and she grimaced when she felt blisters already forming. But she knew she’d better get started on the corridor before Sniffer came to find her. She looked along the passage and sighed again. There was a seemingly never-ending length still to scrub.
As she worked, the asylum’s mantra came unbidden into her head. ‘Healthy body, healthy mind,’ indeed. As if chanting that twice a day was going to make any difference to those poor women with their vacant eyes and pathetic way of doing everything they were told. The repetitive daily regime obviously dulled their already diminished senses, rendering them incapable of having thoughts of their own. And then there were the guards. They seemed to revel in their work, delighting in reprimanding the inmates for the slightest misdemeanour. Rowan thought of Sharp and the mantra that had come into her head whilst she was waiting for the woman to tell her where she was to work. ‘Need good manners’ definitely applied to her. Imagining the guard marching around the airing courts chanting that she needed good manners brought a smile to Rowan’s lips.
Suddenly a shadow loomed over her and, as if thinking about her had conjured her up, Sharp stood there, glaring down at her.
‘Enjoying yourself, I see,’ she snapped. ‘So, you thought fit to disobey me, did you, loon?’
Looking at the hard set of the woman’s face, Rowan felt her heart lurch.
‘I thought I said you were assigned to the sewing room,’ Sharp snapped. Then her gaze settled on Rowan’s wrist and her eyes glittered. Swiftly Rowan rolled down her sleeves before jumping to her feet.
‘Sniffer – I mean the other guard, told me I was to clean the dormitories and corridors,’ she said.
‘Who is this “Sniffer” who dared overrule me?’ Sharp asked.
‘I don’t know her name. She’s the guard who sniffs a lot,’ Rowan explained, pleased to have diverted the woman.
‘I know who you mean, and shall make sure she’s reprimanded severely. It pays to remember I am the senior guard here,’ Sharp said, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘Now, what was that red I saw on your wrist?’
Rowan forced a laugh and held out her work roughened hands. ‘Probably blisters. Look, I’m all red and sore after scrubbing the floors with that vile solution,’ she said.
Sharp reached out and grabbed hold of Rowan’s hands, the gleam in her eyes intensifying. Rowan cringed as the woman ran her thumb along the back of her hand. Then they heard footsteps and saw Pearce hurrying towards them. Abruptly Sharp let Rowan’s hands drop. Standing before them, the guard glanced from one to the other, her lips tightening as she took in the situation.
‘This will be reported, Sharp,’ she said, her voice quiet but firm.
‘You’ve just got your eyes on my job,’ Sharp spat.
Pearce turned to Rowan. ‘Come on, I’ll escort you to the sewing room.’
‘But what about the cleaning things?’ Rowan said, pointing to where they lay on the floor.
‘Oh, Sharp will see to that, if she knows what’s good for her,’ Pearce said, smiling and giving the bucket a hefty kick. As the filthy water pooled around Sharp’s feet, the guard’s eyes widened as though she couldn’t believe what had happened. She squared her shoulders ready for a fight, but Pearce calmly took Rowan b
y the arm and led her away.
They’d only gone a short way down the corridor when they saw Sniffer coming towards them. The two guards nodded to each other, but Sniffer carried on walking. Then a commotion behind them caused them to turn. Sharp was shouting at Sniffer as she pointed to the water and then in Rowan’s direction. But then Sniffer said something and Sharp’s demeanour changed. Gesticulating to the bucket on the floor, she left the other guard mopping up the water and hurried towards them. Seeing the determined look on Sharp’s face, Rowan shrank back against the wall. To her surprise, though, the guard ignored her.
‘Why didn’t you tell me the superintendent was here?’ she demanded, glaring at Pearce.
‘Didn’t know he was,’ she answered mildly.
‘Take that loon to the sewing room immediately,’ Sharp ordered, pointing at Rowan, then disappearing down the corridor at an alarming rate.
‘The superintendent’s here?’ Rowan asked.
‘Yes, but that’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Pearce said, misunderstanding her interest.
‘But I need to see him,’ Rowan insisted.
‘I’m afraid that’s highly irregular. He doesn’t see patients without an appointment. In fact, he doesn’t see them at all, but that’s probably because they’re usually asleep by the time he gets here. We tend to be on the end of his visiting roster,’ she explained. ‘Anyway, I shouldn’t be standing here discussing asylum business with you,’ she added, turning towards the sewing room.
But Rowan had spotted a gentleman sporting a top hat and dark frock coat striding in their direction. By his side, looking all self-important and puffed up like a peacock, was Sharp. She was so busy smiling up at the man that she failed to see them until they drew alongside. Then anger flashed in her eyes, but she made a supreme effort to control herself.
‘Pearce, shouldn’t dear Rowan here be in the sewing room?’
Pearce spluttered in surprise, but Sharp ignored her. Turning to the superintendent, she shrugged. ‘I do try to ensure the asylum’s recommendation for conciliatory and gentle management is adhered to, but as you can see, it’s not easy,’ she sighed. ‘Now, Pearce, the superintendent has to continue with his inspection, so I will leave you to take care of Rowan,’ she said, her soft voice belying the flinty look in her eyes.
In that moment, Rowan was reminded of Fanny, and all her pent-up anger and humiliation surged to the surface.
‘Mr Superintendent, sir, I must speak with you,’ she implored. Surprised at being addressed by a patient, the man turned to face her and Rowan saw that although he looked weary, his eyes were kind.
‘The superintendent is a very busy man, Rowan, so please go back to your duties,’ Sharp ordered.
‘But I must speak to you, sir,’ Rowan insisted. ‘I have been put in here under false pretences and …’
‘I’m sure the receiving officer would have checked your admission papers thoroughly, young lady. We pride ourselves on running a non-discriminatory asylum here,’ he said dismissively, and turned to go.
Panic flared in Rowan’s breast. This might be the only opportunity she had to speak with the man.
‘If by non-discriminatory you mean even-handed, then wouldn’t it be fair to listen to what I have to say?’ she insisted.
‘Really, this is preposterous,’ Sharp interrupted. ‘Get her out of here immediately,’ she barked at Pearce, all pretence of civility now gone. Pearce went to take Rowan by the arm, but determination gave the girl the strength to shrug the guard off as the superintendent moved away.
‘I can only say, sir, that if you are not prepared to hear what I have to say then you are not the fair man you think you are. Despite your grand words, you obviously don’t care that your staff are violent and abuse us,’ Rowan screamed after him.
At this, he stopped and walked back towards her.
‘Pearce …’ Sharp called but the rest of her words were drowned by the ringing of the dinner bell.
As women emerged from the workrooms, their blank stares focused on the floor before them, Rowan pointed to her face. ‘Sir, look in my eyes,’ she pleaded. ‘Do they look demented like the poor souls locked in the dungeons, or vacant like those of these poor drugged women?’
‘Dungeons? Drugged?’ the superintendent barked, staring hard at Rowan.
Relief flooded through her. At last she’d caught his attention.
‘Come with me,’ he ordered.
As he strode along the corridor Sharp hovered by his side, protesting that Rowan was a habitual liar who suffered delusions. Knowing this might be her only chance to get out of this hellhole, Rowan rehearsed in her mind what she wanted to say.
She recognized the office she was shown into as the one that the receiving officer had used, although he wasn’t there. This time she was invited to take a seat. Sharp stood right by her side, bristling with barely concealed anger.
‘Now, Rowan, isn’t it?’ the superintendent asked, taking off his hat and staring at her in a kindly manner across the leather-topped desk. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me just what it is that I’m not being fair about.’ His blue eyes sparked as he sat back in his chair.
‘Well, sir, you didn’t seem keen to speak with me when I asked for an interview,’ she said, deciding to be truthful.
‘You are not here to question the superintendent,’ Sharp interrupted.
The man leaned forward in his chair. ‘I think it would be better if you were to leave us, Sharp,’ he said firmly.
‘But what about proprietary … ?’ she protested.
‘Thank you for the reminder, Sharp. Perhaps you would send Pearce in. You have no objection to this?’ he asked Rowan, his eyes twinkling.
Rowan smiled. ‘No, sir, of course not,’ she answered.
With a barely suppressed expletive, Sharp stomped out of the room.
‘She’s right, of course, I shouldn’t interview you alone, but I sense there’s something going on here that I’m only going to get to the bottom of without Sharp present. Am I right?’
Surprised by his perception, Rowan nodded.
There was a rap on the door.
‘Enter,’ he called.
‘You wanted me, sir?’
‘Indeed, Pearce. Please will you bring me the admission papers for Rowan, erm, what is your surname?’ he asked, turning to Rowan.
‘Clode, sir. I’m Rowan Clode.’
‘Right, Pearce, I wish to see the papers for Rowan Clode.’
‘Sir,’ Pearce said, and promptly left the room.
‘Now, whilst we wait I’d like you to explain what you meant about the women in here being drugged. I have to say your statement has come as a great surprise, for I have always found Hell Tor Asylum to be one of the most orderly, well-run establishments that I visit,’ he said, his expression becoming serious.
‘But I understand you usually visit at night, sir,’ Rowan said.
‘That is true. Hell Tor is the last on my round, and it is usually evening by the time I arrive, especially if the horses have had to negotiate the peat bogs in the mist,’ he said, frowning.
‘Well, that explains it,’ Rowan said. ‘You see, each night since I’ve been here the women start wailing and moaning after the dormitories are locked, and the guards come in and shut them up.’
‘And how do they do that?’
‘They drug them. When the room goes quiet again and the guards leave, there’s always the same bitter smell lingering.’
There was silence for a few moments as the superintendent sat staring at her.
‘That is a serious accusation to make,’ he said eventually.
‘Well, sir, I can assure you I never tell lies, and as you saw earlier, the women plod around with vacant-looking eyes. They’re so meek and biddable all the time. They follow like sheep, just doing as they’re told without question.’
There was a knock at the door and Pearce reappeared carrying a file.
‘Thank you, Pearce,’ he said, taking the file. ‘O
n what duties has Rowan been employed?’
‘She’s been working in the sewing room with Mrs Robbins,’ Pearce replied.
‘Please send Sharp to bring Mrs Robbins to me immediately. Tell her she is to stay and oversee the sewing room until Mrs Robbins returns.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Pearce answered, before hurrying off to find Sharp.
‘Well, Rowan, let me look at your details,’ the superintendent said, opening the file and studying the papers inside. As Rowan waited, she listened to the crackling of the logs on the fire, thinking how different it was in this office compared to the rest of the building. How lovely it was to smell wood ash instead of the all-pervading lye and whatever noxious substance they mixed with it.
‘Right, Rowan,’ the superintendent said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘It says here that you are deemed to be a wise woman,’ and he frowned as he looked up from the papers.
CHAPTER 18
Rowan couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.
‘You find that accusation funny?’ he asked, his frown deepening.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but a wise woman is an old lady and, as you can see, I am a young girl,’ she pointed out.
He scrutinized her, recognition dawning. ‘How young? I mean, just how old are you, Rowan?’
‘Fifteen, sir.’
He gave a sharp intake of breath and shook his head. ‘It states on your admission papers here that you are twenty years old. It is obvious that you are much younger. However, you have been accused of being a lunatic. What say you to that?’
‘I say I’m as sane as you are, sir.’
‘Hmm. Well, this accusation was made after you were seen chanting and planting by moonlight. Can you tell me these are the actions of a sane person?’ he asked, frowning so that his bushy eyebrows met in the middle.
‘Mr Superintendent, sir, my family carry out the custom of lunar farming. By using the phases of the moon, we plant and sow when the water table is at its most conducive.’
‘I see, and you mean lunar as in the moon?’ he asked.
Rowan nodded.