‘Getting out of here.’
‘You are supposed to pack up Lady Rose’s things.’
‘Pack them yourself, you old trout.’
Rose had never felt so frightened in her life before. She had arrived with Humphrey. Dr McWhirter had met her and said he would take her upstairs to see his ‘patient’.
Rose had felt decidedly uneasy. There was the sound of someone sobbing. The stairs were thickly carpeted and the air smelt of cheap cooking and disinfectant. Her mother had said that a Mrs Prothero was an old friend. Still, better get it over with. She would only stay for a few minutes.
Dr McWhirter was joined on the first landing by a burly man in a white coat. ‘My assistant, Philips,’ he murmured.
He led the way on up and along a corridor at the top of the building and swung open a door. Rose walked into a barely furnished room. There was a narrow bed against one wall. A curtained recess by the window served as a wardrobe. The floor was covered in shiny dark green linoleum.
Rose swung round. Dr McWhirter was standing in the doorway with his powerful-looking assistant.
‘Where is Mrs Prothero?’ demanded Rose.
‘There is no Mrs Prothero. This is an asylum for ladies with fragile nerves. You will be kept here – on instructions from your parents – until we consider you are well again.’
‘This is an asylum! I am not mad!’
He wagged a playful finger at her. ‘Ah, the mad never know it themselves. But you are in good hands here. If you behave yourself, you will be allowed to join our other guests in the evenings for quiet recreation.’
Rose made a frantic dash for the door, but Dr McWhirter stepped aside and his assistant grabbed hold of Rose, pinned her arms and threw her on the bed. Then they both left, locking the door behind them.
Frightened as she was, Rose could not cry. She was too furious for that. What on earth had possessed her parents to do such a wicked thing? She had heard stories of families who committed their relatives, sometimes to get their hands on a particular relative’s money.
But in her case, why?
And then she suddenly thought it was all because she had rejected that proposal of marriage. She was sure her parents had simply meant to teach her a lesson. But she had heard that these places charged high fees. Dr McWhirter probably meant to keep her locked up for life.
The following morning, Harry drove Daisy out to Barnet and parked in front of The Grange.
‘Now, Daisy,’ he said, ‘don’t overact.’
‘What an awful-looking place,’ said Daisy.
‘I showed you that place out on the road under the trees. I shall wait there with Becket all today and all night if necessary. If you and Lady Rose are not out by the morning, then I will come in after you somehow. I want to avoid making a scene if possible in case someone calls the police and Lady Rose is embroiled in a scandal again. Good luck, Daisy.’
‘You can’t call me Daisy anymore,’ she said with a show of spirit. ‘I am now Miss Levine, companion to Lady Rose.’
‘Play your part and it will stay that way.’
Becket helped Daisy down from the car and pressed her hand warmly and she sent him a shy smile.
‘How do you know Dr McWhirter is here and not at his consulting rooms?’ asked Daisy.
‘I telephoned him. Marvellous invention.’
Before he could ring the bell, the door opened and Dr McWhirter stood there. ‘Welcome, Mr Carlisle,’ he said. ‘And this is the little lady?’
‘My niece, Liza.’
Daisy stood shuffling her feet.
‘I think it is better if you go away, Mr Carlisle, and leave the young lady with us.’
‘But what about the paperwork and fees?’
‘I will telephone you. It is better to deal with the patient first and make sure she is happy and rested. Philips, take Miss Liza up to her room. Is that her luggage?’ Daisy had packed a few belongings in a suitcase. ‘Leave it in the hall.’
Philips took Daisy’s hand. She went with him docilely enough, but half-way up the stairs she began to sing at the top of her voice:
‘Shut that row,’ snapped Philips as they reached the top of the stairs.
But a voice from a room along the corridor finished the song:
Rose, thought Daisy. ‘In here,’ said Philips.
‘Are you my daddy?’ whined Daisy.
He grinned down at her. ‘The only daddy you got now.’ He thrust her into the room next to the one Rose’s voice had come from and closed and locked the door.
Daisy waited until she heard his footsteps retreating along the corridor. She unbuttoned one boot and slid out the thin skeleton keys, re-buttoned her boot and got to work. At first, she’d forgotten all Harry had taught her, but after a few deep breaths she attacked the lock again until there was a satisfying click and she swung the door open.
She peered cautiously along the corridor and then went to Rose’s door and got to work. She worked quickly with new confidence and soon had the door unlocked.
Rose, who was sitting on the bed, rushed into her arms and hugged her close.
‘How? How did you get here? I heard you singing.’
‘Never mind,’ whispered Daisy. ‘Pooh, it smells bad in here.’
‘They wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom. I had to use the chamber-pot under the bed. I haven’t even been fed.’
‘Shh! Come along quietly.’
They crept together to the top of the stairs and began their descent, both of them glad the stairs were so thickly carpeted. They stood together on the bottom step.
‘Right!’ said Daisy. ‘Straight for the front door as fast as we can.’
But when they got to the door, it was locked and barred. Daisy slid back the well-oiled bolts. She was still clutching her skeleton keys in her hand.
‘I’ll soon get to work on this,’ she whispered.
‘Here, you two,’ shouted a voice behind them.
They turned slowly and found Philips glaring at them. ‘Helga!’ he shouted.
A female nurse came out of a side room. She was of the same build as Philips, heavy and menacing.
‘Two of our little birds were trying to escape,’ said Philips, ‘and the doctor’s just gone in to London.’
‘Lock them down in the basement till he gets back,’ said Helga.
Philips grabbed Daisy by the wrist and twisted the keys out of her hand. ‘A nasty little spy,’ he said.
‘I’ll have you in court for this,’ said Rose and slapped him full across the face.
He hit her on the cheek so hard that she fell to the ground.
‘Bastard!’ said Daisy, helping Rose up.
‘I’ll have some fun with you later,’ sneered Philips. He took a thick blackjack out of his pocket. ‘Now, move.’
‘Don’t protest,’ said Rose, holding her cheek. ‘He could crack your head open with that, Daisy.’
A heavy door was opened at the back of the hall. A steep flight of steps led down.
‘Get down with you,’ growled Philips, ‘or I’ll shove you down.’
