‘Tess… I’m so sorry I got you into all of this,’ Cat whispered as they stood in the sunniest corner of the yard. Tess tried to smile but could not manage it. The wall behind them was slick with early morning moisture, dark streaks drenching the cold stones.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Cat. It was those policemen…’
‘No – you wouldn’t even have been there if it wasn’t for me, making you! You’d have been back at the house, safe and sound…’
‘I’d rather have been out and about with you than stuck in that house, even if it has led us here, Cat, truly I would. You’re the best friend I ever had…’ Tess said, her words broken off by a husky, bubbling cough.
‘No, I’m not!’ Cat shook her head as angry tears filled her eyes. ‘Come off the strike, Tess. Please. There’s no need for you to continue with it… I’ll do it for both of us! Start eating, and soon enough you’ll be out. The Gentleman will have you back, I’m sure of it…’
‘Perhaps he might, if you’re there to speak for me?’ Tess said, hope lighting her eyes.
‘Of course I’ll be there to speak for you! I’ll make him keep you on, I promise.’
‘But… I won’t come off the strike. I won’t be the only one to give in to them, Cat! And if I know you’re doing it too, I can put up with it, really I can.’
‘But I can’t bear to think of it, Tessy! I can’t bear to think of you suffering this treatment, when I am the one responsible!’ Anguish reduced Cat’s voice to a croak.
‘Don’t you cry, Cat – that’s something I can’t bear! I’d rather starve than eat the slops they feed us in here, anyway. God – couldn’t you just murder one of Ellen’s pies right now? A beef and ale one, with a big puddle of gravy and some potatoes…’ Tess shut her eyes, dreaming up this feast. Cat’s mouth filled with saliva.
‘When we get out of here, we’ll have one. One of the big ones, cut in half just for us and steaming hot,’ she promised.
‘A big slice of blue cheese with it too, and almond tarts to follow. That’s food worth breaking a hunger strike for – not that horrible soup they give us. It’s probably just dirty water – the water The Crow has washed her feet in, most likely!’ Tess said, with a delicate grimace that opened up a cut by her mouth. She winced as Cat dabbed gently at the oozing blood with the cuff of her blouse.
‘The Crow? Wash her feet? Don’t be daft. I heard she hasn’t washed them for a decade. I heard those aren’t stockings she wears – that’s her filthy grey skin!’ she said, and Tess found a tiny smile.
‘That’s disgusting!’ she whispered.
‘And what’s more, it’s those feet that have left her stranded, stuck working in this dank and smelly place all her days. She was due to be wed, you see,’ Cat went on, improvising.
‘The Crow to be wed? I’ll never believe it!’
‘Oh yes, many years ago, when it’s said she still had elegance, even if she was never a beauty. But on the night before the wedding her fiancé paid her a visit, and in the grip of his passionate embrace she forgot herself, cast off her shoes… and the smell of her feet killed the poor boy stone dead!’ She threw her arms wide and collapsed theatrically onto the cobbles, though it made her head spin. Tess laughed a little, clapping her hands covertly. Then she stopped; her face fell.
Cat looked up and saw the dark-haired wardress standing over her, her arms folded and her eyes shining coldly in the morning light. Cat tried to get to her feet, but dizziness assailed her and she remained on the damp ground, suddenly queasy.
‘Heard something funny, have you?’ The Crow said to Tess, her voice treacherously light, almost friendly. Mutely, Tess shook her head. Shivers gripped her again, shaking her whole body. ‘It sounded like you were laughing. Your friend come up with another funny song or a poem, has she?’ Again, Tess shook her head. ‘Come now, don’t be shy. Let’s hear it,’ the woman ordered. Tess stayed silent and still, her face drawn and deathly pale. Cat struggled to her feet.
‘Leave her alone,’ she said to the wardress. ‘She wasn’t doing anything wrong.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Come on, I want to hear what she said. If you don’t tell me, I’ll start to think there’s some special reason you don’t want me to hear,’ said The Crow, the words laced with menace. Tess glanced desperately at Cat, and Cat racked her brain for something that might placate the woman.
‘I said that… ah… I said…’ she floundered. The wardress’s mouth twisted to one side, a bitter sneer that made Tess take a step backwards, until her shoulders hit the wall. The Crow closed in on the younger girl, who started to whimper. ‘I said that you’re a bitter old snake who stinks like corruption! There – now you can punish me for it!’ Cat cried.
‘Oh, I will,’ the wardress said, catching Tess’s wrist with her strong, gaunt hands. ‘But what’s most galling to me right now is not what you said, but that this little bitch laughed at it.’ She twisted Tess’s arm and dragged her back towards the cell block, and Tess uttered a small cry of pure fear.
‘No! Leave her alone!’ Cat shouted, running after them. The Crow turned and with one flat hand gave Cat a shove that sent her crashing back to the ground. For a minute Cat couldn’t get up. She coughed and struggled to find her balance; and when at last she got to her feet, Tess was nowhere in sight.
Cat raced up the stairs and back to the corridor where she and Tess were kept, the exertion making her stumble, and spots dance in front of her eyes. ‘What’s going on?’ another prisoner asked, lips grey in an ashen face. ‘The Crow had the cosh in her hand!’ The door to Tess’s cell was shut, and though she knew there was no point, Cat hammered on it all the same, shouting to be let in until two other wardresses came and took her to her own cell, slamming the door behind her. They cast a look at one another as they did it, in disapproval at the sounds coming from Tess’s cell, but they did nothing more. Pressed their lips together and moved away. Numb with horror, stunned by guilt, Cat sat with her back against the wall, listening to the blows, hearing the screams and the sobbing. She thought she might explode into flame, with shame, with rage. But she did not. Shadows closed around her, filled the room, suffocated her, and she knew it would be with her for ever: the feeling of killing an innocent thing; of impotence; of the irrevocability of harm done.
When Tess’s door was next opened, Tess did not walk out through it. She was huddled in a far corner with her clothes all torn, blood drying around brand new wounds and a hundred new bruises swelling on her skin. And some essence of her gone; fled from the room. The little sparkle that lit her laugh, the avid look in her eye. Cat stood for a long time at the threshold, staring full face at what had been done, letting herself suffer the consequences of her actions. She told herself then she could never suffer enough.
But perhaps, she thinks, as she turns her back on The Rectory, perhaps now she has. She has relived it in countless nightmares, and shouldered the crushing weight of blame. She has barely slept, barely eaten. She has scoured her body and her soul. She will see Tess again, in a few weeks, a few months. She will find out if – in spite of her broken promises and the tide of misfortune she let close over their heads – if in spite of it all Tess still loves her, and is still her friend. Somehow in her heart, Cat feels that forgiveness is coming. She sees a figure waiting up ahead. Robin nods, giving her a tight smile as she joins him by the stile.