The Outcast Girls

by Alys Clare

  No.

  Now, sitting with the book open in front of her, Lily looks up wide-eyed as another realization strikes her.

  Once again she hears Jessie Killick’s clear young voice.

  Nurse Evans doesn’t like it here.

  Me and the rest in the dorm think she’s scared.

  And Georgiana Long’s voice, when she showed Lily into the room that had been Nurse Evans’s.

  She has few personal items and it appears she took most of them with her.

  Lily knows with total certainty that Nurse Evans is not coming back. And she wonders urgently why.

  Abruptly getting to her feet, Lily slips out of the treatment room and into her own room – Nurse Evans’s room – embarking on a swift and surely futile search for anything belonging to her predecessor that might reveal the address of her parental home in North Wales – a book, a luggage label – but there is nothing. She returns to the treatment room and the ledger. Will Matron have the address? Miss Carmichael surely will, but Lily can hardly approach her. Briefly she considers asking Miss Long to try to find it but dismisses the idea, for if anyone were to surprise Miss Long in her search and demand to know what she was up to, it is doubtful that the little English teacher would have the aplomb to come up with a plausible explanation.

  Can Lily think of an excuse for asking Matron for it?

  Just now, however, Matron is fast asleep and not very well.

  Lily returns to the ledger, her notebook, pen and ink to hand, and begins to record the symbols that appear beside the girls’ names, their frequency and which girls are involved. There must be a key to the code … impatiently she flips ahead through the blank pages. And, as two pages towards the back are loosened by her actions, a letter slips out. Picking it up, Lily discovers it’s not a letter, just an empty envelope, and it has been used as a book mark. For there, on the pages between which the envelope has been placed, is the list of symbols and their meaning.

  But before Lily studies it, she examines the envelope. An uneducated hand has written Nurse Evans, Sick Bay, Shardlowes School, and the name of the village. Flicking it over, she sees the sender’s name and address on the reverse: George Latter, 27 Chark Street, Shadwell, London E. Whoever George Latter is – friend, lover, fiancé – he certainly isn’t Nurse Evans’s dying mother. But – and Lily’s hopes revive as suddenly as they were dashed – if he has been writing to her (and judging by the envelope, writing is something of a challenge), then might he not be privy to her reasons for abandoning her post at Shardlowes?

  Lily folds the envelope and tucks it away in her writing case. As soon as Felix gets in touch and she knows where he is, she’ll pass the Shadwell address on to him and he can go and ask.

  She sits for a good half-minute reining in her impatience and her frustration, for she wants to talk to Felix now and she can’t, then turns to the symbols and makes a note of their meaning. Most refer to medical states and conditions, both temporary (chills, coughs and colds, injuries of various severity, menstruation-related complaints) and permanent (lameness, impairment in sight and hearing, proneness to nervous debility, problems with learning, problems with personal hygiene, severe acne, obesity, failure to thrive). Then she returns to the list of names.

  She realizes that the strange little mark that she thought she recognized, and that appears at most five times, is not included in the key.

  She studies it again and once again there is that sense that it is familiar. It is like a lotus flower, just opening, and a line has been drawn diagonally across it. She is reminded of the lotus flowers of the Buddhist faith …

  … and into her mind comes the one word India.

  The imaginary wooden door inside her head that she keeps tightly shut on every sound, sight, smell and memory of India shudders a little, but she pushes against it.

  And, summoning all her mental strength, puts the mystery of that little symbol right to the back of her mind.

  She has extracted all that she can from the ledger for now and it is back in its hiding place when she hears an uneven tread out in the corridor and Georgiana Long’s face peers round the door. She looks anxious and she whispers, ‘I don’t think anybody saw me but I can’t be sure – oh, dear, I’m afraid I’m not very good at subterfuge, and—’

  Lily gets up, ushers her into the treatment room and closes the door. ‘No need for subterfuge, Miss Long, for surely school staff are at liberty to consult Matron or her assistant just as pupils are?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Miss Long replies, ‘but there is nothing wrong with me save for this beastly foot of mine.’ She gives the ugly built-up boot a resentful scowl.

  ‘Then shall we say, if anyone is so insensitive as to enquire, that you have come to consult me because you are experiencing discomfort?’

  Miss Long looks at her balefully. ‘I suffer perpetual discomfort, Nurse, although I am indeed in a little more pain than usual today, having stupidly turned my foot over on the path outside when taking my class for a brief breath of air before luncheon.’ She looks mutinous. ‘That wretched Miss Blytheway, she will insist on daily exercise, even when staying within and keeping warm is surely by far the more sensible choice, and—’ She breaks off, and Lily can sense her distress.

  She is not surprised at it. In addition to discomfort and pain, Lily has recently seen for herself how some of the girls take a malicious delight in mocking the little English teacher, stumbling along in her wake in imitation of her awkward, ugly gait and stifling their giggles. She also saw Miss Dickie watching them, a strange expression on her face, and afterwards drawing them aside to administer a brief lecture on ‘poor Miss Long’ and how it was not kind to mock another’s misfortune, all the while her small, deep, eyes glittering with something that looked very like the patronizing and malicious triumph of the able-bodied over those who are not so lucky.

  Lily really does not like Miss Dickie.

  She says kindly to Miss Long, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  Miss Long gives her a wry smile. ‘I have a club foot, Nurse, which turns at an unnatural angle away from the ankle. I was put in a wrench as an infant, although my distress at the resultant pain disturbed my parents more than my twisted foot. It is too late now, I fear, for any remedial measures, and my boot is adequate.’ The last few words are spoken with dignified firmness and Lily understands that the matter is closed. ‘Now, you wished to speak to me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily says. ‘This is my fourth day at Shardlowes and it is high time you and I met in private.’ Miss Long opens her mouth to speak but Lily forestalls her. ‘Before you ask, I have nothing definite to reveal. I strongly suspect, however, that Nurse Evans discovered something that disturbed her and that her absence is permanent.’

  To her surprise, Miss Long nods. ‘I believe so too.’

  ‘I further suspect,’ Lily continues, ‘that more girls have gone missing than those you mentioned.’ Miss Long doesn’t speak. ‘You have been here a little over a year, Miss Long, and you took up your post mid-term. I find myself wondering whether, like Nurse Evans, the English teacher who preceded you also uncovered some disturbing facts and this was the reason for her leaving the school in the middle of term?’

  Miss Long is silent for so long that Lily begins to think she isn’t going to answer. But then, with a deep sigh, she says, ‘Genevieve Swanson wrote to me. Oh, I know I should have told you, but I was so keen that you should approach the situation with unbiased eyes.’

  ‘What did her letter say?’ Lily asks, restraining the powerful urge to yell, Of course you should have told me!

  ‘That she was leaving Shardlowes because she was afraid. Something was happening here that she did not understand, and a girl she was very fond of – a clever girl, perhaps too clever, Miss Swanson said – had gone, and when she – Miss Swanson – enquired, she was warned off, was the expression she used, and told that the girl’s guardian had unexpectedly returned to England and collected her late one evening.’
>
  Lily is thinking very swiftly. There seems to be rather a lot that Miss Long has omitted to tell her, and the fact that yet another girl has disappeared from Shardlowes simply horrifies her.

  She waits until she is sure her distress will not be apparent, then says quietly, ‘Miss Swanson didn’t believe whoever told her this?’

  ‘It was Miss Carmichael, and no, she most certainly did not.’

  ‘Have you maintained your correspondence with Miss Swanson?’ Lily asks, trying not to let the eagerness show.

  A bashful expression crosses Miss Long’s open face. ‘Well, no. When I say she wrote to me, it would be more precise to say she left me a letter; she hid it in my room, where I found it a few days after my arrival.’

  ‘You have never had any further contact?’ Lily hears her own words and realizes she has been too forceful.

  Now Miss Long looks worried. ‘She had left when I arrived and, as I say, there were no further letters from her, although I did write to the address she put at the top of the page.’

  ‘Do you still have this address?’

  ‘Oh yes! I’ll give it to you, but I’m sure she’s no longer there. It was a temporary lodging, a hostel, she said, and she was only staying while she found another post, and no doubt she’s—’

  ‘Where was it?’ Lily interrupts.

  ‘In Cambridge,’ Miss Long whispers.

  So close, thinks Lily.

  ‘Oh, I can guess what you’re thinking!’ Miss Long bursts out. Lily shushes her, and she drops her voice to a hiss. ‘I know you think I’m a coward, that if I was concerned I should have tried to seek her out, but you don’t know Shardlowes like I do, like all of us here do!’ Her face is flooded with hot blood and her eyes glisten with the tears of distress. ‘People here – the teachers, the staff, the older girls, even Junior school, poor little things – are furtive and secretive, and they stand in pairs and in tight private groups, and I hear the whispering between heads bent close together that abruptly ceases when I approach, and all the time there is Miss Dickie, smiling that smile while her little cold eyes watch and at times I feel her hostility like a knife in my side!’

  Lily waits while she calms herself. Then she says quietly, ‘Miss Long, it is clear to me that rather too many girls have gone missing from Shardlowes School.’

  And Miss Long looks at her out of swimming brown eyes and says miserably, ‘I know.’

  Early on Friday morning there is a letter for Nurse Henry addressed in Felix’s disguised handwriting. Receiving it in the entrance hall from the monitor who hands out the post, it takes most of Lily’s self-control not to tear the envelope open immediately.

  She walks with an outward show of calm back to the sick bay, shuts the door of her room firmly behind her and, leaning against it, reads what Felix has to say.

  Still in the guise of the sister-in-law, Felix writes:

  Having concluded my mystery story and the weather on the south coast turning to the inclement, I decided yesterday afternoon to return home to Kinver Street, where your lengthy, informative and interesting letter awaited me. I am pleased to hear that your new post suits you so well, dearest Leonora, and that the staff and pupils alike are agreeable. Another communication was also waiting for me at Kinver Street, containing the disturbing tidings that Great-Aunt Dill has broken her wrist and Great-Uncle Hector is having difficulties managing; this latter will surprise you as little as it does me, dear, knowing as we both do that, despite the household’s very well-trained servants, Hector is always put out of sorts by even the most minor of emergencies. Accordingly I plan to travel up to Thetford today, and it would be most delightful were you able to meet me for tea in Cambridge, where I can very easily enjoy a short pause between trains. Let us meet at our favourite place, and seek out a suitable establishment in which to take refreshment. I shall await you there from three o’clock unless I hear to the contrary.

  Your loving sister-in-law Felicia

  For a panicky moment Lily can’t for the life of her recall what he can mean by our favourite place, then remembers a conversation they once had about churches and how they agreed that King’s College Chapel was the one they liked best.

  Flooded with relief because she will be talking to him so soon, Lily lays her plans.

  A short time later Lily knocks at the door of Miss Carmichael’s room. The girls are still down in Hall finishing breakfast, and Lily hopes the headmistress is a quick eater and already back at her desk.

  ‘Come in,’ calls a low-pitched voice.

  She is.

  Lily enters and walks smartly up to the desk. Hands folded over her stomach, standing straight in her severe and elegant SWNS uniform, headdress framing her determined face, green eyes intent behind the small round spectacles, she has no idea how formidable she looks.

  Miss Carmichael’s quick look of surprise, just as quickly wiped away, suggests she is impressed. ‘Nurse Henry,’ she says. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I am concerned about Matron,’ Lily says with perfect truthfulness. ‘Her cold is worse, congestion is settling in her chest and she has a troublesome cough. The supplies cupboard in the treatment room is reasonably well stocked, but I have my own methods and there are items I require. I shall undoubtedly have several girls to see this morning, but I plan to go into Cambridge after an early lunch and locate a pharmacy.’ She has made up her mind not to ask Miss Carmichael’s permission. Acquiring the appropriate medicaments is purely a professional matter – Lily’s profession of nurse and not Miss Carmichael’s of headmistress – so permission is neither necessary nor relevant.

  Miss Carmichael’s very slightly raised eyebrows suggest she has noticed but is not going to argue. ‘Of course, Nurse,’ she says. ‘There is a train from the local station at a quarter to two, and I will instruct Eddy to be ready with the trap at five and twenty past one.’ There is an almost discernible pause. ‘If that suits?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Miss Carmichael.’

  Lily has turned smartly and is heading for the door, but Miss Carmichael says, ‘Oh, Nurse?’

  Lily looks back over her shoulder. ‘Yes?’

  ‘How are you settling in? I have been remiss, for I ought to have asked before, but I have been fully occupied with – er, with other matters.’

  With searching for missing girls? Lily wonders. ‘Quite well, thank you,’ she says coolly.

  ‘You find the sick bay satisfactory?

  ‘Adequate, Miss Carmichael. Now, if you will excuse me, girls will be arriving to see me.’

  Miss Carmichael inclines her head in a regal gesture and Lily strides away.

  There are indeed girls waiting. Three stand outside the treatment room, one has already installed herself and is perched on the edge of the examination couch.

  ‘Come off there, please,’ Lily says as she closes the door. ‘There is a fresh white sheet spread out and you are crumpling it.’

  ‘Oh!’ The girl looks surprised, but does as she’s told, standing up smartly. She is one of the Seniors, seventeen or eighteen, and her light brown hair is braided and wound around her head in a coronet, with a little fringe of curls over her high forehead like that made fashionable by the Princess of Wales. She has a perfect hourglass figure and, were it not for the red nose and the rheumy eyes, she would be as lovely, if not more so, than Alexandra. ‘Minna Fanshawe, Louise dormitory,’ she says in answer to Lily’s look of enquiry.

  ‘What can I do for you, Minna?’ Lily asks.

  Minna Fanshawe’s symptoms – runny nose, headache, aches and pains, lethargy – are repeated not only by the three girls waiting to follow her into the treatment room, but by all the others who come to the sick bay that morning. The cold is running like fire through the school, and Lily makes a mental note to acquire as many medications as she can carry back to Shardlowes.

  She looks in on Matron for the third time that day just before lunch. Matron is propped up on several pillows. She wants to lie down but Lily has told her in the sort o
f voice that brooks no disagreement that phlegm on the chest isn’t dispersed when the patient is lying down, and Matron has grudgingly accepted the truth of this. Despite sitting up, she has still slept away most of the morning, but now she is awake.

  Lily hands her a mug of hot water with lemon, honey and ginger, and while her patient sips at it, informs her of the planned excursion to Cambridge.

  Matron grunts. ‘Very wise,’ she croaks. She nods towards a plain, functional desk beneath the window. ‘Cash box is in there. Take what you want but make sure you put it in the book.’

  Lily obeys, extracting what she thinks she will need and then entering in the appropriate place the date, the amount and the purpose of the money. So deeply is she back in her nurse’s identity that she begins to sign her real name, remembering only as she writes the L for Lily Raynor and changing it to Leonora Henry. After her signature, she adds, as she has done so many times in the past, Sister, SWNS.

  She is kept busy until the moment it is time to go downstairs to find Eddy and the trap. She wouldn’t have had a moment to change from her uniform into her civilian clothes, but it hasn’t even occurred to her to do so.

  Eddy greets her cheerfully and on the short journey to the station they talk about the weather – snow is threatening as the day goes on – and the outbreak of colds in the school. ‘When d’you want meeting, miss?’ he says as he pulls up. ‘There’s one gets in just after four, another at quarter to five, then the next at five thirty.’

  ‘Oh – no earlier than a quarter to five, please Eddy,’ she replies. She wonders if that will give her enough time. ‘Although—’

  Eddy understands. ‘Not to worry if you’re not on it, miss,’ he says with a grin. ‘They’re roughly every three-quarters of an hour and I’ll wait for the next one.’ He leans down confidingly to her and says, ‘I’m pals with Bert Gotobed, him as carries the bags and that, and he’ll let me sit by his fire and take a cup of tea.’ His right eyelid drops like a shutter in an exaggerated wink.