The Girl with the Red Ribbon (16 page)

‘I know that, Tewer, but this loon here took herself off and I've only just found her,' Sharp lied glibly.

‘Well, get her out of here or we'll all cop it,' Tewer ordered.

‘Come on, loon,' Sharp urged, prodding Rowan in the back. ‘If I ever catch you down here again you'll have me to answer to,' she said loudly.

Well, of all the cheek, Rowan thought, but instinct told her to keep quiet.

Back upstairs, Sharp nudged Rowan into another room. This one had been painted white, and housed a single bed with a table and chair beside it. In the corner stood a cupboard from which the guard pulled out a similar tailored dress to the one she was already wearing.

‘Sit down, loon,' she said, her voice becoming unusually pleasant. Rowan looked at her suspiciously. ‘Come on, we can chat while you mend this hem,' Sharp coaxed, sitting down on the bed and picking up her garment. Although the woman was smiling, Rowan noticed she had that
strange gleam in her eye she'd seen earlier. The ribbon around her wrist tightened and she swallowed nervously.

‘I see you've become friendly with that Simple Susan. Well, you've seen the shameful state she's got herself in, so just you be careful. Anyway, did you have a beau before you came here?' Sharp asked, watching her closely. Rowan shook her head. ‘Ever been with a fellow?' the guard persisted, leaning closer. Rowan shook her head again and this time the gleam in Sharp's eye glittered. ‘Well, as you've just seen, men are dirty, despicable things and best avoided. They'll butter you up with their sweet talk and then infect …' she stuttered to a halt, jumping to her feet as the door burst open.

Pearce stood in the doorway, eyeing Sharp suspiciously.

‘What's going on in here?' she demanded, glancing from Sharp to Rowan and back again. ‘You know it's strictly against the rules to have a patient in your room.'

‘Loon here's just mending my hem,' Sharp mumbled. Pearce looked at the dress still in her hand and then at Rowan cowering in the chair, and clicked her tongue in disgust.

‘Come with me,' Pearce said to Rowan gently. Outside in the corridor, she stopped. ‘Did she do anything to you?' she asked, looking worried. Rowan shook her head. ‘Thank goodness. Well, I take it you've been assigned to sewing duties, so I'll show you where you should be,' she said, emphasizing the word ‘should'.

Although Rowan felt shaky and didn't understand what was going on, she had enough sense to keep quiet. This was her opportunity to get placed in the sewing room,
which sounded far preferable to doing the cleaning Sharp had first mentioned.

Rowan was taken into a large room, which had higher windows to let in more light though they were still barred outside.

‘This is Ma Robbins,' Pearce said, introducing her to a pleasant-looking woman who had a round face and chirpy smile.

‘Come to help us, have you, dear? Good, good,' she said, without waiting for an answer. ‘You seat yourself next to the others. I've already cut up some worn sheets so you just need to put the middles to the bottoms and away you go,' she said with a grin.

As Rowan sat at the chair that Ma Robbins had indicated, she saw that there were five other women busily sewing. No one looked up from her work, though, as Rowan picked up the material and began sewing. Turning sheets was a task she'd carried out many times before in the farmhouse, and it was a relief to be doing something familiar. She found the repetitive stitching soothing and, for the first time since she'd arrived, felt the tension easing from her body.

Realizing her ribbon had eased its grip, she sighed with relief. Another danger had been averted, but for how long, she wondered. She didn't really understand what had brought about the change in Sharp's demeanour, but the feverish gleam in the woman's eye really worried her. However, she did know a woman like Sharp wasn't the sort to have her plans thwarted.

‘How are you getting on, dear?' asked Ma Robbins, appearing at her side. Rowan stared down at the pieces of sheeting she'd automatically been sewing together. ‘My, my, you are a fast worker,' the woman said delightedly.

Rowan blinked, amazed to see that she had indeed all but finished. Then she looked closer at her work and frowned.

‘This needle is too blunt for the thin material. Look at all these holes,' she said, holding up her work. To her surprise the woman laughed.

‘You're right, of course. However, we're not allowed sharp needles or pins for that matter in here. Good job you're not stitching fine clothes for fine ladies, eh? ' she said, chuckling. ‘Still, you are a bright button to notice that. In all the years I've been here, nobody's ever commented on it before.'

Rowan looked around at the other ladies, but they were just gazing blankly at their work as they laboriously stitched in and out.

‘How long have you worked here Ma Robbins?' she asked, hoping she didn't appear rude. Although she was usually self-contained, being in the company of these women who seemed to exist in a trance was unnerving, and she had an overwhelming need to converse with someone who seemed normal.

But
Ma Robbins just smiled and thought for a few moments. ‘Must be nearly eight years now,' she answered.

‘But how did you come to be here?' Rowan persisted, unable to believe anyone could stay in this place voluntarily, let alone be cheerful about it.

‘Well, my Bert's in charge of growing the vegetables for the kitchens here, and when we got betrothed the woman in charge of the sewing room announced she was leaving to take up another position. It was like it was meant, so I applied for this job and got it. Wasn't I the lucky one?' she chuckled. Then she saw Rowan staring at her incredulously. ‘You must remember jobs around here are few and far between, so we are very blessed. Especially as once we married, we were offered a cottage in the grounds. Made it lovely, we have,' she said.

Their conversation was cut short by the high-pitched ringing of a bell.

‘Dinner time, ladies. Off you go now and I'll see you later,' Ma Robbins said, chivvying the women along.

Obediently, they got to their feet and filed out of the room. Rowan followed, wondering what would be on offer this time. She was hungry but the memory of that dreadful porridge at breakfast was still fresh in her mind.

As soon as she took her place at the table, a basin of broth and slice of bread and scrape were set before her. Although she was hungry, she couldn't help staring around the room in case Sharp was hovering. However, there was no sign of the guard and she began to relax. The broth was thin but warm and tasty, even if, just as on the previous day, she couldn't make out what was in it. Of course, the strong smell of lye mixed with something noxious,
which pervaded every corner of the place, didn't help her appetite. To her disappointment, she couldn't see any sign of Susan either. Rowan had found it comforting to have someone friendly to talk to, and the woman seemed knowledgeable about what went on in here. There was so much she wanted to ask her. As she mopped up the last drops of broth with her bread she remembered Susan saying she'd see her at the airing courts later and her spirits lifted. Her encounter with Sharp earlier might have left her feeling uneasy, but it had also hardened her resolve to get out of this place.

‘Well, did you enjoy your dinner then?' asked Ma Robbins as they filed back into the sewing room. The others just smiled inanely and sat down in the same places they had before. Remembering what the woman had said about her husband being in the charge of the garden, Rowan smiled.

‘The broth was really tasty. It must have been those vegetables your husband grows, Ma Robbins.'

The woman chuckled. ‘Why bless you, girl. The day that kitchen does justice to my Bert's produce will be a miracle. Usually they manage to boil everything to an unmentionable mush. Still, it's nice of you to say such a kind thing. I'll tell my Bert later, and he'll be mighty grateful. Now, we'd better get you more of those sheets to turn. If you carry on working like you did this morning, our stockpile of sewing will be done in no time,' she said, looking pleased.

By the time the bell rang out to signal the finish of the working day, Rowan had finished turning half a dozen sheets. She still felt unhappy that the blunt needle made
such big holes in the worn material, but if they couldn't provide her with a finer one, there was little she could do about it.

Following the line of women shuffling out to the airing courts, she breathed in the fresh air, glad to be outside. How she hated being cooped up indoors, especially as that strong, clinical smell seemed to waft through the corridors, seeping into every room.

To her disappointment, Susan was nowhere to be seen. Resignedly, Rowan took her turn about the courts, chanting the ‘
healthy body, healthy mind
' mantra each time she passed the guards. Without someone to talk to, even this brief respite from the depressing drabness of indoors seemed monotonous and a complete waste of time. She really didn't see how a few minutes' walking and chanting could make these poor women any healthier. Discreetly glancing at the listless women with their vacant eyes, she couldn't help but wonder how long they'd been in this place.

At last the shrill bell rang out, signalling the end of their outside exercise and the women silently filed back indoors. Rowan duly followed, but as she passed Sharp, the guard leaned towards her, smirking.

‘Shame your little friend is suffering those terrible pains. Still, that's what you get for letting a man defile your body. Just you remember that, loon,' she hissed.

‘What's wrong with Susan?' Rowan asked, but the guard merely shrugged and quickly moved her on.

Each morning Rowan looked out for Susan, both in the dining hall and airing courts, only to be disappointed
when she didn't appear. Although she'd made enquiries, nobody could or would tell her what was wrong with her friend. Seeing her evident distress, Ma Robbins promised she'd try to find out where Susan was, and exactly what was wrong. Every morning, though, as Rowan entered the sewing room and looked at the woman hopefully, she just shook her head. As if that wasn't bad enough, Sharp had taken to smirking and taunting Rowan, reaching out and touching her at every opportunity.

Ma Robbins, sensing Rowan was becoming agitated, produced a roll of black cloth and placed it on the table in front of her.

‘As you have made such a fine job of helping to catch up with our sheet repairs, I have brought you the pattern to make some replacement uniform dresses for the asylum. These are desperately required, but as you can see, there is no one else in here capable of this type of work.'

‘Thank you,' Rowan said, grateful to be spared the monotony of yet more seam sewing. ‘Anything to break the tedium of this gloomy place is more than welcome.'

‘Well, it's not much, but I thought it might help take your mind off things a little,' said Ma Robbins.

Rowan busied herself with her new task, only being allowed to cut out with scissors under the direct supervision of Ma Robbins. The coarse material chafed her hands and soon even the novelty of this new task wore off, and she began to wonder about how she was to get out of this hellhole.

Endless day followed endless day, each one exactly the same. The monotonous regime was making Rowan
depressed and despondent. Realizing she had no way of tracking how long she'd been in the asylum, at the end of each working day she cut a strand of cotton and hid it in her boot. Each night she took it out and tallied them all up. By the time she'd counted fifteen strands she was ready to climb the walls. Fifteen soul-destroying days of practising the same repetitious routine, followed by fifteen nights of cowering under her bed cover until the guard had quietened the wailing women and was satisfied Rowan was asleep. What she wouldn't give to be sleeping in her own bedroom with the comforting whispering of leaves in the trees and the gentle lowing of cattle for company. Sharing a room with these poor demented creatures was almost more than she could bear and if she didn't get to talk to somebody sane soon, she feared she, too, would go mad.

One afternoon, just when Rowan didn't think she could bear the isolation a moment more, she was overjoyed to find Susan waiting for her by the airing courts. She looked pale but Rowan could see by the swell of her belly she hadn't given birth yet. Smiling at each other, they fell into step, chanting the ‘
healthy body, healthy mind
' mantra.

‘I've missed you. Where've you been?' Rowan asked, as soon as they were past the guards.

‘Thought me time had come, early like,' Susan grimaced. ‘Luckily it was a false alarm 'cos Charlie hasn't turned up yet. He must still be away, and I do want him to be back in time to wet the baby's head,' she said. ‘Lying on a blinking bed, counting me blessings and atoning for my sins is mighty boring, I can tell you. Then I had to recite certain passages from the Bible out loud, over and over again. Suppose they thought I'd come to believe in
redemption if I read about it often enough. Anyway, how've you been?'

‘
Healthy body, healthy mind
,' Rowan chanted as they passed the guard. ‘I've been climbing the walls. This place is unbearable without you to talk to, and nobody would tell me how you were,' she said.

‘They probably hoped I'd croak it. The guards may think I'm stupid, but I'm tough as old boots,' she said with a grin. ‘God, it's nice to be out in the fresh air again. So tell me what's been going on. Did Sharp set you to work straight away?'

‘Thanks to your advice, when Sharp told me I was going to be put on cleaning duties, I said there was nothing I'd find more satisfying.'

Susan laughed, quickly turning it into a cough when Pearce looked their way.

‘I'd loved to have seen her face. What duties are you on then?'

‘I'm in the sewing room.'

‘Good for you, girl,' Susan said. ‘It's not so bad in there, is it?'

‘No, Ma Robbins is very kind but –
Healthy body, healthy mind
,' she chanted, realizing they'd already finished one turn of the airing court.

‘But what?' Susan persisted, as soon as they were safely past the guards.

Rowan shuddered. ‘Before we went to the sewing room, Sharp took me to see one of those really mad men. He was chained up and screaming like a wild animal,' she whispered, still shocked by what she'd seen. ‘It was ghastly, Susan. That poor man …'

‘What,
she took you to the male wards?' Susan gasped. ‘But it's against asylum rules for any female to enter that part of the building, and that includes the guards.'

‘Well, this male guard suddenly appeared and shouted at Sharp. She had the cheek to blame me, saying I'd run off and that she'd had to come after me.'

Susan shook her head. ‘Sharp may be authoritarian, but she's not usually idiotic enough to break the rules. Wonder what she was up to. I suppose she took you on to the sewing room afterwards?'

‘No, she took me to her own room.'

‘What!' This time Susan did shriek. As one of the guards hurried over to them, she swore. ‘That woman's weird, Rowan,' she whispered. ‘You must see …' but whatever she'd been going to say was lost as the guard seized them both by the arm and marched them inside. Rowan gulped: now what?

They were ushered into a poky, airless office and given a dressing-down. This guard had slitty eyes, a long beak-like nose and the unfortunate habit of sniffing.

‘You two have been committed here to atone for your sins and, as such, are expected to submit to conciliatory and gentle management whilst receiving curative treatments,' she stated pompously.

Susan risked turning towards Rowan and slightly raising her eyebrows. Luckily, the guard was in full flood and didn't notice.

‘One such prescribed treatment is for regular exercise around the airing courts. During this time it is expected that you will reflect upon the words of your mantra,' she sniffed. ‘You were not out there to have a convivial
discussion.' She looked sternly from one to the other, sniffed again and, to Rowan's disgust, proceeded to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. Didn't the woman have a kerchief? She grimaced and the guard, noticing, scowled.

‘Your mantra, “
healthy body, healthy mind
” was prescribed by an eminent physician,' the guard continued. ‘He is of the belief that regular exercise promotes a healthy body and that repetition of these select words will facilitate the mind to cure itself.' There was another pause as she sniffed once again. ‘By combining these two principles, Hell Tor Asylum provides the optimum opportunity for you to be cured,' she said, narrowing her eyes so they reminded Rowan of the slits that passed for windows in this place. ‘Any questions?' the guard asked, moving so close that Rowan involuntarily took a step backwards.