Mrs McDougal sat at the kitchen table, her feet propped up on a footstool. Two nurses whom I had never seen before sat at the table drinking coffee. One of them wrote a letter. She finished with a flourish, signed her name, folded the linen sheet of paper in half, and added it to a stack that she had already written.
‘I wrote three letters last week,’ the writer said. She put the cap on her fountain pen and set it on top of the stack of letters.
‘I think the writing-letters-to-soldiers campaign is a good idea, but what can you say to a stranger? I mean, really, Nina, what do you write?’ the other nurse said.
‘You say thank you, and you tell them that even though you’ve never met them, you know in your heart they are risking their life fighting for our country. You tell them about sunshine and food shortages and the crowded city streets – normal things. You know that the letter you send them might be the last personal thing they ever see.’
‘Aren’t you a patriot!’ the other exclaimed, with more than a little sarcasm in her voice.
‘My father is dead and I have no brothers. I want to do my part. And you may as well know, I’ve joined the WAACS. I ship out to Daytona Beach in two weeks,’ Nina said. ‘The Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp, yep. Our job is to do the clerical and other jobs to free up the men for fighting.’
‘I know what it is,’ the other nurse said.
‘Will you go into a war zone?’ Mrs McDougal asked. She put her mug down and stared at Nina as though she were witnessing the second coming.
‘I don’t know. But I would if I had to. I’m ready. I just feel like I need to do something, so signing up for the WAACS made sense.’ She stood and carried her coffee mug to the sink. Her friend followed behind her. I slipped on the apron I’d worn earlier while they rinsed the mugs and sat them on the draining board to dry. They thanked Mrs McDougal for the coffee, nodded at me, and started up the narrow staircase that led to the hospital wing.
‘Times are changing.’ Mrs McDougal took her apron off the hook and put it on.
‘Cynthia Forrester thinks we will never wear silk stockings again,’ I said.
‘Well, I was thinking of more serious matters, but never mind that. We’ve had two new patients today. They came this morning before daylight, so it’s hectic in the hospital wing now. I used to think that a cook worked hard, especially in a place like this, until I saw what those nurses have to do every day. They work long hours on their feet and I’ve never, not once, heard a complaint from any of them.’
‘What smells so good?’
‘Our neighbour, Mrs Parks, brought me two large chickens.’ Mrs McDougal beamed. ‘I baked them earlier and concocted two large casseroles. They’re in the oven. I’ve got the bones boiling to make stock.’ She pointed to a large iron pot bubbling on the stove. ‘I am going to get as much from those poor birds as I can. Have you had a nice afternoon out?’
‘Yes, thank you. I went with a friend to visit her aunt.’ Mrs McDougal wouldn’t approve of my efforts to help Minna, so I spared her the details of my afternoon.
‘Dear, would you mind winding the clocks? I’m run off my feet and would like to sit for a few more minutes. That’s all I need you to do. Minna is with Dr Geisler, so her room is empty. You may as well start there and work your way down the stairs.’
‘Are you sure Minna won’t mind me going into her room?’
‘No, she is used to other people doing things for her.’
Mrs McDougal gave me a heavy brass key and sent me on my way. There were ten clocks in all, not including the tiny mantel clock in my office that I wound myself each day.
* * *
The thick curtains in Minna’s room had been pulled fast. Rather than open them, I used the dim light from the hallway to see my way to her dresser. With fumbling hands, I found one of the lamps I knew rested there. With a turn of the switch, soft light bathed the room.
The bed hadn’t been made, and the covers were pushed to the edge, as though kicked there by an angry child. Pillows lay scattered about the floor. A tea tray that gave off the distinctive odour of rotting food sat on the dresser. Buttered toast had slipped off the china plate and into a saucer of canned peaches. A cup of tea, its cream congealed in a layer of scum, sat untouched, the rationed sugar – a coveted commodity – and milk wasted now.
Minna’s dressing gown lay in a heap on the floor in front of her wardrobe, along with three other dresses she must have tried on and discarded for another ensemble. Shoes, hats, and purses were also scattered about the floor. On the vanity, four tubes of lipstick lay sideways, their caps tossed aside.
Did Minna expect Mrs McDougal or one of the day maids to pick up all this mess? Through the chaos, I spotted her clock on the mantelpiece, just as the whisper of cold air brushed the back of my neck. I stepped across the room, mindful of where I put my feet. The sound of innocent laughter stopped me in my tracks.
‘Who’s there?’
No one answered.
I moved once again towards the clock, trying not to step on anything. I didn’t see the black patent leather spectator pumps until I tripped on them. With flailing arms, I tried to balance myself to no avail. Knocking over a wicker basket of books and magazines in the process, I fell to the ground. I lay there, surveying my contribution to the mess on the floor. I sat up and considered leaving it there. It wasn’t as if Minna would notice the additional clutter.
A copy of Life Magazine lay open on the floor, its pages riddled with holes where words and phrases had been cut out with scissors.
‘Oh, no,’ I whispered. The wicker basket lay on its side, half full of magazines and a smattering of romance novels. I pulled the magazines – about half a dozen – out of the basket and rifled through them. Every single issue had words cut out. It didn’t take long to stuff the magazines back into the bottom of the basket, and stack the romance novels back on top of them. By the time everything had been put right, I had forgotten about the clocks. Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
I prepared to brave the clutter on the floor and dive under Minna’s bed to hide. When the footsteps passed, I slipped from Minna’s room unseen, leaving her clock unwound.
* * *
Between my typewriting duties and helping Mrs McDougal, I didn’t get a chance to see Zeke until after dinner. By the time I went to see him – with the envelope from Aunt Lillian tucked under my elbow – I had rationalized the magazines I had found in Minna’s room had been put there by someone else. Minna wasn’t stupid. If she had gone to the trouble of sending herself flowers and a note on her dead fiancé’s behalf, she wouldn’t leave the evidence in her room. It would be so easy for her to burn the leavings in one of the fireplaces and destroy any proof of her guilt. Why hadn’t she done so? That scenario opened up a whole new batch of questions. If Minna didn’t put the cut-out magazines in her room, who did? My mind raced with unanswered questions.
A peaceful stillness hung over the hospital wing. The patients had been fed and tended to. The two nurses I had seen downstairs in the kitchen sat at the two desks, writing notes in patient charts, so engrossed in their work they were oblivious to my presence. I slipped past them unnoticed and went to Zeke’s room, where I found him sitting on his bed, still dressed in street clothes, his injured leg elevated on two pillows.
He lay back with his eyes closed, his injured arm resting on his stomach. I stood for a moment watching him sleep, wishing I could speak to him but knowing better than to wake him. I agreed with Bethany. Zeke did need his rest.
‘I’m awake,’ he said just as I had turned to leave.
‘What’s happened? How come your leg—’
‘I walked today, with Bethany’s help. My leg hurts, but that’s to be expected.’ He smiled. ‘What’s that?’ He pointed to the envelope.
‘I’ve got some things to tell you. Is this a good time?’
He nodded. I sat next to him on the bed and told him about my afternoon with Cynthia. He listened intently as I relayed all that I had heard.
When I told him what I had found in Minna’s room, he pushed himself up in bed, wincing as he moved his injured leg.
‘I still don’t think she did it,’ I said. ‘I just can’t see her sending those notes to herself. You should have seen her when she received the invitation. Her terror was genuine, believe me.’
‘Sarah, I know that you want to help Minna, and I understand how this must seem to you. I understand that Minna’s situation mirrors yours in many ways. You need to realize that Minna may not be stable.’
‘But something isn’t right. My gut tells me she didn’t do it, that someone is setting her up.’
‘It’s good to trust your gut. I’m all for that,’ Zeke said. ‘But you also must consider what lies before you.’
‘Why would she leave such incriminating evidence right there for someone else to find? She could have hidden those magazines anywhere in this house. She could have burned them in her own room, for crying out loud. And what about the person who followed her the other night? And what about the gargoyle? Had someone tampered with it?’
‘All the gargoyles on the roof had been tampered with. They’ve all been pushed off their bases and are tottering up there. Matthew has someone coming to remove them tomorrow. Meanwhile he’s not allowing anyone into the courtyard.’
‘We know Minna didn’t push that statue.’
‘Agreed. Sometimes when things get complicated, it’s a good idea to step back. This might work itself out in a day or two. Either way, Matthew is tending to Minna. If she is sending herself those notes, I’m sure he will see that she gets the treatment she needs. We’ve called the police, so the matter is out of our hands.’
‘What did the police say?’
‘Nothing. They took statements from Matthew and me, even though I didn’t have much to offer. They told us to call if anything else happens.’
‘But what if it’s too late? What if someone gets hurt next time?’
‘You can’t fix everything.’
He was right. There was nothing I could do right now. Stepping away would give me a fresh perspective.
‘You know, leaving those magazines in her room could be a stroke of brilliance. You found them and are now even more convinced of her innocence.’
‘Are you saying that Minna is manipulating me?’
‘I’m saying, my love, that she is playing you like a piano.’
‘That’s a bit harsh. I’m not that stupid.’
‘No, you’re not stupid. You’re inquisitive and you have this habit of wanting to see the best in people.’
He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb and brought my wrist to his lips. The hot flush of pleasure coursed through my body as he pressed his mouth to the pulse on the soft underside.
‘Let’s stay focused, please.’ I pulled my hand away as I remembered Zeke’s penchant for hasty departures. The burn of his lips throbbed on my skin, but I ignored it. ‘She was quite beautiful,’ I said as I slipped the photo of Minna, along with the magazine articles that Aunt Lillian had given me, out of the envelope. ‘Her wedding to Matthew’s brother was the society event of the season. She left poor Gregory standing there in front of all those people, until the realization … what’s wrong?’
‘Where did you get this?’ He held the article about Minna’s father in his hand. A small vein across his forehead started to pulse.
‘From Cynthia’s aunt. She used to write the society column for the newspaper. That’s Minna’s father. He’s a horrid man, according to Cynthia’s aunt.’
Zeke grabbed my wrist and held it tight. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘You’re hurting me.’ I wrenched my wrist away and rubbed it.
‘I’m sorry. What did you tell her?’
‘That I wanted to find out about Minna’s past, so I could try to help her.’
‘Promise me that you will drop this crusade of yours at once. I mean it, Sarah. Promise me. I’m not in a position to protect you, not with these injuries. I won’t have you hurt. Am I making myself clear? Promise me.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t tell you why. I just need you to trust me and do as I ask without questioning me at every step. Promise me you’ll leave this one alone.’
‘I’ll do no such thing, not without an explanation. I don’t take orders from you, so unless you tell me why—’
‘What in the world is going on here?’ Bethany didn’t bother knocking when she barged into the room. ‘Come on, you two. Visiting hours were over long ago and we cannot be seen playing favourites.’ She eyed both of us as if we were two teenagers caught sneaking out of the house for a midnight tryst. ‘Stressful conversation doesn’t promote healing.’
‘I was just leaving. Good night, Bethany.’ I pushed past her.
‘Sarah, promise me,’ Zeke called out.
I ignored him.
* * *
The sky opened up while I slept, and I awoke to rain pounding against my window. The morphine had kept the weeping at bay, but the screams from the hospital wing had floated into my room during the night. I put my feet on the cold floor and padded into the bathroom, dreading what I would discover downstairs.
‘Still no Alice?’ I grabbed my apron and picked up the wire whisk, trying to stay out of Mrs McDougal’s way as she whirled around the kitchen. ‘Shall I scramble these for breakfast?’
‘Yes, please. And the biscuits in the oven will need to come out in five minutes.’ She pulled four trays out of the storage pantry and laid them side by side on the worktable. In a flash, she had placed a small white teapot, a cup and saucer, and a serving dish with applesauce that she had canned herself on each tray. The kettle for coffee boiled just as the timer dinged for the biscuits to come out of the oven.
‘I suppose you heard that poor man screaming,’ Mrs McDougal said. ‘It kept me awake. I swear, if this goes on, I will have to stop living in.’
‘Who is he?’
‘His father is an architect and an old friend of Dr Geisler’s. The poor boy came home not right in the mind. He looks fit as a fiddle, and he’s polite as can be, with his ‘Yes, ma’am’ and ‘No, ma’am.’ But he’s got demons, things that he saw overseas, the likes of which I don’t care to know. Dr Geisler says some people’s minds can’t cope with stress. Look at poor Mr Collins. He’s a dear soul, sweet as can be, but the poor man will never leave here.’
‘Good morning, ladies.’ Bethany breezed into the kitchen, dressed in a nurse’s uniform, the white apron starched to within an inch of its life. ‘We’re short-staffed, so I’ll be nursing today. Sarah, my husband has been up since five-thirty, writing away in our suite. I’m to tell you to carry on where you left off yesterday and that your work is first rate.’
‘Thanks.’ I finished whisking the eggs, added my secret ingredient to make them fluffy, and poured them into the cast-iron skillet, which had been warming on the stove.
‘Sarah, thank you for helping out in the kitchen. Matthew and I both appreciate it.’ Bethany poured herself a cup of coffee and drank it while I cooked the eggs. ‘Is there mail, Mrs McDougal?’ she asked as she ate.
‘Sorry, ma’am. I’ve already given it to the doctor.’
‘What? Why did you do that?’
‘He asked for it. Have I done something wrong?’
‘No. No, it’s all right.’ Bethany held the plates for me, as I spooned the eggs onto them. ‘Better give an extra spoonful to this one. It’s for Zeke. His appetite is coming back, and he could stand to put some meat on those bones.’
I did as she asked.
A fifth tray had been laid out. It had coffee and a biscuit but no eggs. ‘What about this one?’
‘Oh, that’s Minna’s. She doesn’t eat eggs,’ Bethany said.
‘I’ll take it up to her.’ I glanced at Mrs McDougal. ‘If that’s okay.’
‘Thank you,’ Mrs McDougal said.
The orderlies had arrived to fetch the trays for the patients and load them onto the dumbwaiter. I took Minna’s tray and carried it up the stairs.
* * *
Minna sat up in bed, a lacy bed jacket tossed over her shoulders.
‘Good morning.’ I set the tray on her dresser. ‘Do you mind if I turn on one of these lamps?’
‘Go ahead.’
The lamplight did little to flatter Minna. Lack of sleep or emotional exhaustion had left purple half-moons under her eyes. She had pulled her hair away from her face and tied it with a scarf. The style accentuated her jutting cheekbones. Her unbuttoned bed jacket revealed her bony chest.
‘Thank you.’ She blew on the coffee before she took a sip. ‘Are you a housekeeper now?’
‘Just helping out until Alice comes back. She’s got influenza and will be out for the rest of the week.’
‘You’re grateful to Matthew – Dr Geisler – aren’t you?’
‘He seems to appreciate my work. My previous employment ended in disaster, and I need to earn my living, so, yes, I would say I’m grateful.’
‘I wanted to be independent, but gave that up long ago. Do you know that a woman cannot even rent an apartment on her own? She needs her husband or father to sign for her.’
‘Times are changing. Women are involved in factories now, holding down jobs that men used to do.’
‘And when the war is over and the men come home, do you think the women will keep the jobs? I promise you they’ll be discarded like yesterday’s trash and will be back to teaching school and serving coffee at the diner, just like before.’ She gazed at me with those cold grey eyes. ‘What’s wrong, Sarah? Something’s different.’
I went to the basket of books and took out the magazines that were still at the bottom.
‘Is reading magazines a crime?’
I tossed the magazines on her bed. ‘Open one.’
She rifled through the magazine. When she saw the holes in the pages where the words had been cut out, she reached for another magazine from the pile I handed her, and another, and another, tossing each magazine aside as she ripped through them, as though an explanation for the cut-out words lay within the pages.
‘I won’t even ask how you came to discover these magazines. That’s not important. You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ I said.
‘He’s been in my room.’ Her voice broke. ‘Gregory did this, Sarah. He’s setting me up. I know what you’re thinking, and I swear, as God is my witness, I did not send those dead flowers or that horrible message to myself.’
‘Should I get Dr Geisler?’
‘No.’ She clawed at her covers and scrambled to her feet. ‘I must leave here. Today. Now.’
‘Minna, let me go and get Dr Geisler. He will know what to do. If Gregory is here, he should be told. Don’t you agree?’
‘I cannot believe this is happening to me. I am being set up by someone who is incredibly adept.’
‘Minna, I want to help you.’
‘Help me? What can you do to help me? You’re a slip of a girl, with your own problems. How dare you butt into my business? But since you’ve already done so, ask yourself if I would leave evidence in my room. Mrs McDougal sends housekeeping staff up here all the time. Have you asked yourself why I would try to make it look like Gregory is alive? Surely you don’t think I’m that desperate for attention.’
‘We need to call the police. Maybe there are fingerprints on the magazines. There’s got to be a way we can find out who is doing this.’
‘No. No police. I’ll take these magazines to Matthew and explain that you discovered them while searching my room. Then I’m leaving this place. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Run along,’ she said, waving her hand in dismissal.
‘I wasn’t searching your room. Mrs McDougal asked me to wind the clocks. Your room’s a mess. I tripped over the junk on the floor. The basket tipped over and the magazines fell out of it. And don’t take that superior tone with me. I won’t be dismissed with the wave of a hand. I’m the only one here who actually believes you. And now you want to run away? Don’t you think this is the safest place for you? Don’t you think Dr Geisler can protect you?’
‘Stupid girl. Protect me? If Gregory is able to come into this house, Matthew is not safe. Gregory wants to possess me, but he wants to kill Matthew. You mark my words – something bad is in the wind. Something dangerous. Now get out and leave me alone.’
A tray with the dirty dishes from Minna’s last meal sat on a footstool near her vanity. Without a word, I picked it up and left, closing the door behind me with a resounding click.
The weeping filled the hallway. Alysse’s ghost waited for me there. She paced back and forth in the corridor. She fidgeted with her hands, the expression on her face one of worry and concern. No colours shimmered around her now, just a veil of sadness, desperate sorrow that broke my heart.
‘Can you hear me?’ Her disjointed words sounded as though she were speaking to me under water. She stopped crying and stared at me, as if noticing me for the first time.
I nodded.
‘Stop taking the drops. You can’t see when you take them. She is not what she seems. I need to tell you things, but I can’t come through the fog when you take the drops.’
‘I won’t take them tonight.’
‘You’re not doing things fast enough. You need to save my brother. Do you hear me? You must …’
Alysse’s image got weaker. She faded to a whisper, to an ephemeral outline in the morning light.
‘I need to know what you want me to do,’ I called out, my voice frantic.
She appeared again, clear and strong. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear her words.
‘I can’t hear you.’
A deep chill surrounded me. I shivered as my frantic breathing created curlicue clouds in the space between us.
Alysse appeared to shout, but her words couldn’t penetrate the shimmery field of energy that separated us. She reached out to touch it. Upon contact, her hand glowed with the unmistakable red of anger.
An icy wave of energy crashed into me. My feet flew up into the air. I landed on my side with a thud.
The tray crashed to the floor, smashing the crockery into pieces.