Agnes stared at me with a look of incredulity. It did sound ridiculous. She held up her hand. ‘Sal, please don’t imagine that I think someone is deliberately mistreating Lily. I only thought there might have been some error of judgement, a mistake, and that people are covering it up. That’s why I want you to check the tablets.’
‘I’ve organised that. It’ll be a few days before we get the results.’
‘Charles was quite shocked at the change in her,’ she said. ‘I wish there was something I could do.’
‘You could visit her for a start.’ It came out more sharply than I intended.
‘But I…’ she was flustered, her hand shook, sought out the brooch on her cardigan, ‘I had flu,’ she protested.
‘And before that it was the chiropodist,’ I retorted.
There was an uncomfortable silence. I let it stretch while I curbed my anger. When I spoke I kept my tone deliberately neutral.
‘I know about Nora.’
‘Nora?’
‘Don’t, Agnes. Lily told me. Nora, your sister. She ended up in Kingsfield.’
She pressed her hand up to her mouth and struggled to stop the shaking. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘Not much more than that, really. That Nora was Nora Donlan, she’d been sent to Kingsfield. She gave me the impression it’d been a well-kept secret. No one ever talked about it.’
‘I can’t, excuse me.’ Agnes left the room.
I sat in the quiet and listened to the chirrups from sparrows outside, the occasional puttering sound from the fire. My mouth was dry now. I’d have liked to have got a drink but I didn’t dare move and risk intruding on Agnes.
Some time later she came back. Her face was taut and ashen. She clutched a large white hanky but her eyes were dry. She lowered herself into the chair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘That’s why you’ve not been to see Lily?’
She nodded in assent.
‘Is Nora still there?’ I asked.
‘No.’ She drew a couple of breaths, releasing the air slowly with a shuddering sound. ‘No,’ she repeated, ‘Nora’s dead. It was a long time ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. The words or perhaps the wobbly note in my own voice served to trigger her tears. Agnes stayed where she was, weeping quietly, almost sedately. She leant forward, buried her face in the hanky. Tears sprang to my own eyes, stinging. I sniffed them back. I went and knelt at her side. Put my arm around her shoulders. She didn’t shrug me off. I didn’t speak. Agnes wept. At last, taking a couple of deep breaths, she straightened up. I slid my arm away. She turned her head to face me.
‘It’s more than sixty years ago,’ she said, ‘sixty years, never mentioned.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ I offered.