Dolly waved Alice aside. ‘Go on, get on with whatever to have to do,’ she said, capriciously. ‘Go on!’
As Alice hurried away, Dolly stood for a long time looking after her. But she didn’t even see the girl any more; she was thinking about Evan Thomas and Clare Lees, and wondering how she could make her future secure. Deep in thought, Dolly stared at the linoleum, the colour of treacle. She shivered suddenly and rubbed her arms with her hands. What she had to do was to get closer to Clare Lees. She had to become the principal’s confidante. Her ally.
She looked around. The walls were bare, without paintings or colour. Netherlands was a lot better than some of the other homes, Dolly knew, but it was hardly a place to choose to grow up in. No fires here, no little touches of home. No soft beds … Dolly thought of Evan again, and then of Andy.
Smiling, she touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. Oh, she would sort it out. Andy was a handsome man, not too bright, but good in bed. She smiled slyly. As for Evan Thomas, well, he would have to be taught a lesson, wouldn’t he? A little demonstration to show him that he wasn’t dealing with a common tart.
Calmer now, Dolly walked on. Ahead of her she could see the heavy door of the principal’s room, ‘Miss Clare Lees’ inscribed in gold lettering. Dolly stopped, glanced round, and then touched the letters, imagining it reading ‘Miss Dora Blake’. Or ‘Mrs Andrew Fellows’. Or ‘Mrs Evan Thomas’ … Sighing, Dolly let her fingers fall away from the wood.
Then she turned away and retraced her steps – never realising that she was watched by a silent Alice Rimmer at the turn of the stairs.
‘Hilly?’ Alice whispered.
The girl turned over in her bed and then sat up, surprised.
‘Alice, what are you doing here?’
‘I came back,’ Alice said, pulling the edge of the blanket around her shoulders.
‘Where have you been?’
‘Just walking round the streets.’
‘But if they catch you –’
‘They won’t,’ Alice said certainly. ‘It’s four in the morning. No one’s about. How are you feeling?’
‘Not too bad,’ Hilly replied, leaning back against the pillow, her voice low so as not to waken the girl in the next bed. ‘I felt stronger today.’
‘You look better,’ Alice lied, touching her friend’s forehead. ‘Matron said you might go out for a walk tomorrow.’
‘Alice, you shouldn’t be here,’ Hilly replied, her fine, ash-blonde hair lank against her pale face. ‘You’ll get into trouble.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Alice reassured her. Smiling she held up a key. ‘See this? It’s the sanatorium key.’
‘Where did you get that?’ Hilly asked, horror-struck. She knew Alice only too well, knew how the placid exterior hid a wilful streak. They had been friends for years, both of them now fourteen. Only Alice looked fourteen – and Hilly looked like a sick child.
Without Alice, Hilly would have given up a long time ago. The home was dispiriting, gloomy. She had no family and nothing to look forward to – until the day that Alice had arrived at her bedside with her dinner. From then on, things had changed. Soon Hilly was eager to see her and hear the gossip. Alice Rimmer might seem quiet to everyone else, but she was a wicked talker and missed nothing.
It was through Alice that the sickly girl lived vicariously. And it was through Alice that Hilly heard about Evan Thomas and Dolly Blake and Clare Lees. Without her, Hilly would have known little of the tiny world of the home, but Alice told her everything – a spy, reporting back all her trivial espionage.
At first Hilly had spent a third of her time in the home, but as she grew weaker she became more tied to the sanatorium. Ethel had always been kind, but it was Alice who provided the entertainment. Before long, Hilly came to know Alice as no one else did.
It was in Hilly that Alice had confided about Gilbert Cummings’s broken horse and what Clare Lees had said about no one wanting her. It was also Hilly who’d heard about Alice’s ambitions – and fantasies. It seemed a small price to pay, Hilly had thought, as she’d listened to Alice talking about her phantom mother. She knew that it was a fantasy, but what did that matter? Alice was the only person who had chosen to spend time with her. Everyone else kept away, forgot her.
And as the years passed, and Hilly took up permanent residence in the sanatorium, Alice remained constant. She fussed her and petted her as though she was her child, Hilly thought, moved by the frequent kindnesses. Yet there was also a hidden recklessness about Alice which terrified her. Alice might pretend to others that she was quiet and subdued, but Hilly wasn’t fooled. Alice had sneaked out of the home several times, just to walk around the town. Or so she said.
But one night she had told Hilly the real reason.
‘I think I’ll see her.’
‘Who?’ Hilly had asked, bemused.
‘My mother,’ Alice had answered, surprised that she hadn’t already guessed. ‘One day I’ll bump into her, you’ll see.’
Hilly had felt pity well up in her. Neither of them had parents, or even just mothers. That was reality. She could accept it so why couldn’t Alice?
‘Your mother might be dead, you know.’
Alice had looked at her and shook her head firmly. ‘No, she’s alive.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I do!’ Alice had snapped angrily. ‘I know she’s alive, Hilly. I feel it.’
‘Did anyone ever tell you that?’
‘No.’
Hilly’s voice had been quiet. ‘So you don’t know for sure?’
‘I know,’ Alice had repeated. ‘I think Miss Lees knows something too.’
‘Why d’you think that?’
‘A hunch.’
‘What kind of hunch?’
‘I don’t know, Hilly! It’s just something I’ve always believed. And I’ll prove it in the end.’
Sighing, Hilly had tapped the back of Alice’s hand. ‘Don’t go out again, please. If they find out –’
‘No one will find out,’ Alice had replied patiently. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
And she seemed to, because she was never caught. Alice’s nocturnal wanderings didn’t uncover her mother, but they bred in her some wildness of spirit. Another child would have been terrified, but Alice was past that. She was quick, kept to the shadows, watching people, events, soaking up the outside world the only way she could. Then, as she grew older, Alice stopped fantasising and began to talk about other ways of finding out about her past.
Now Alice dropped her voice to a whisper as she leaned towards Hilly. ‘They have personal files in the office.’
‘What!’ Hilly said, startled.
Alice motioned her to be quiet. ‘I said, they have files on all of us here. On each child. They’re in the principal’s office. And I want to see mine.’
Hilly sat up in bed, alarmed. ‘Don’t do it, Alice! Please, if you’re caught, they’ll send you away.’ Hilly looked close to tears. ‘I couldn’t go on if you weren’t