“Sorry,” I said, “I don’t understand.”
“Sret,” she said again. “Puff.”
A light went on at the back of my brain.
“Cigarette?” I asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
She nodded. “Sret. Puff.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t smoke.”
Her eyes were fixed upon mine, imploring.
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll go find you one, but first, I need to ask you a couple of important questions.”
I didn’t give her time to think.
“The first is this: Do you really believe I did this to you? I’d die if you did.”
Her brows knitted. “Did this?”
“Put you here—in the hospital. Please, Fenella, I need to know.”
I hadn’t meant to call her by her given name—it just slipped out. It was that kind of moment. Daffy had once told me that knowing and using someone’s name gave you power over them.
There was no doubt that, at least for now, I had power over this poor injured creature, even if it was only the power to withhold a cigarette.
“Please, Fenella!” I pleaded.
If this was power, I wanted no part of it. It felt dreadful.
Without taking her eyes from mine, she moved her head slowly from side to side.
“No,” she whispered at last, replying to my question.
No? It was not the answer I was expecting. If Fenella didn’t think I had attacked her, then Porcelain had lied!
“Who was it, then?” I demanded in a voice so rough that it surprised even me. Had that savage snarl issued from my throat?
“Who was it? Tell me who did this to you!”
For some inexplicable reason, I wanted to seize her and shake the answer out of her. This was a kind of anger I had never known before.
Fenella was terrified. I could see it in her fuddled eyes.
“The
The Red Bull? That made no sense at all.
“What’s going on here?”
The voice came from the doorway. I spun round and found myself face-to-face with a nursing sister. It wasn’t just the white uniform and stockings that made her seem so intimating: The blue cape with its red lining and piping had turned her into a human Union Jack.
“Flavia?”
The familiar voice took me by surprise.
It was Flossie Foster, the sister of Feely’s friend Sheila!
“Flossie? Is it really you?”
I’d forgotten that Flossie had gone in for nursing. It was one of those trifles that had been mentioned at the dinner table by Feely, somewhere between the salad and the sausage rolls, and put out of mind before the plates were cleared away.
“Of course it’s me, you goose. What on earth are
“I … ah … came to visit a friend,” I said, making a sweeping gesture towards Fenella.
“But visiting hours aren’t until this afternoon. If Matron catches you, she’ll have your toes on toast.”
“Listen, Flossie,” I said. “I need a favor. I need a cigarette, and I need it quickly.”
“Ha!” said Flossie, “I should have known! Feely’s little sister is a tobacco fiend!”
“It’s not like that at all,” I said. “Please, Flossie—I’ll promise you anything.”
Flossie reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of Du Mauriers and a monogrammed cloisonne lighter.
“Now light it,” I told her.
Surprisingly, she did as she was told, although a little furtively.
“We only smoke in the nursing sisters’ tea room,” she said, handing me the cigarette. “And only when Matron’s not around.”
“It’s not for me,” I said, pointing to Fenella. “Give it to her.”
Flossie stared at me. “You must be mad,” she said.
