Free The Beloved by Alison Rattle Page A

affair, much like the one Dr Danby uses. My heart catches in my throat as I watch it draw nearer and nearer. I close my eyes, praying that when I open them again, the cab will have passed by, taking its early-morning travellers to a destination that is anywhere but here. But it is not to be. I do not need to open my eyes to hear the cab jangle to a halt outside the house. Who would call at this hour of the day? My heart pounds in the back of my throat. It can only be Dr Danby.
    He has come to deliver the news of my fate.
    I open my eyes and watch as the driver steadies the horses. Then the cab door opens, but instead of Dr Danby’s thatch of salt and pepper hair, it is the thinning flaxen hair of Papa’s valet, William, that emerges. How can that be? I must be seeing things. Then, as William holds the cab door open, the familiar and solid shape of Papa climbs down the cab steps and alights on the pavement. Before I can stop myself I am banging on the window until the glass rattles in its frame and I am shouting, ‘Papa! Papa!’
    He rubs at the back of his neck wearily, then looks up at me and raises his hand in greeting. Papa is home! And I did not even have to wish it. Before I can grasp the full marvel of it all, the bedroom door opens and I turn to see Mama, and Sarah, struggling under the weight of a laden tray, following close on her heels. Mama looks stern, her lips set in a tight line. As she crosses the threshold, her nose wrinkles in disgust. She takes a handkerchief from her sleeve and puts it to her face. Then she gestures to Sarah. ‘Open the window, girl. Air this room and get it cleaned up.’
    Sarah begins to bustle around the room. I am glad to see her remove the soiled chamber pot from under my bed. I look back at Mama. She is staring at me as though I am a stranger. ‘And you,’ she says. ‘You are a disgrace. You will wash and change your gown immediately. Illness is no excuse for uncleanliness.’
    â€˜I am not ill, Mama.’ I hate the whine in my voice. ‘Why do you insist on saying that I am?’
    Mama raises her eyebrow in a small, triumphant arch. ‘But it is not only me who says you are ill, Alice. If you remember, you were examined by Dr Danby only yesterday. It is his opinion that you are ill. And we cannot argue with a doctor, can we?’
    I cannot bear that she looks so pleased with herself. So I walk over to where she is standing and cross my arms over my chest as I look her straight in the face. ‘And you would have me put in a madhouse, wouldn’t you? I say.
    Surprise, then annoyance, flash across her face. But only for an instant. She licks a shine of moisture across her bottom lip, and her face settles back into its usual perfect blankness. ‘Sarah!’ she barks. ‘Please leave us now.’
    Sarah scuttles out of the door, her face flushed red.
    Mama glares at me. ‘Do not talk of such things in front of the servants!’ She crosses her arms over her bosom too. ‘If Dr Danby recommends that you are sent away to be cured, then that is what will happen.’
    I want to shake her. I want to take her by the shoulders and rattle her so hard that her teeth knock together and her eyes jump in their sockets and her tightly coiled hair comes loose and hangs in trembling tatters around her face. I want to shake her until her beautiful, hard shell cracks and the pieces smash to the floor and all that is left behind is a soft and ordinary woman who will put her arms around me and love me like a mama should. But I won’t do that. Not because I don’t dare to. But because I am scared that if I do crack her shell, I will find there is nothing inside but a hollow space.
    And then what would I do?
    â€˜Papa won’t allow it!’ I scream at her. ‘He will never let you send me away!’
    She smiles at me pityingly. ‘But your father is not here, Alice. And therefore the decision falls to