Free Finders and Keepers by Catrin Collier Page B

Sister.’
    â€˜Yes, Miss Adams.’
    Harry noticed the same tone of resignation in the sister’s voice as the patient’s. The Adamses were clearly in control of every aspect of the staff’s lives as well as the patients’.
    â€˜Are you in pain, Mr Ross?’ Diana asked in a marginally softer tone.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Are you certain?’
    â€˜I said no,’ he repeated hoarsely.
    Miss Adams left the room when the trainees arrived with clean linen. She joined Harry and Toby Ross in the corridor.
    â€˜He insisted he wasn’t tired, Miss Adams -’ Toby began.
    She cut him short. ‘You will not be allowed to see your uncle again until the day after tomorrow, Mr Ross. And then only if he is well enough to receive you, and you adhere to the rules we enforce for his benefit. You will also leave the door to his room open so the sister can supervise your visit.’
    â€˜Could I possibly look at the sketch, Miss Adams, just for a moment?’ he begged.
    To Harry’s amazement Miss Adams held out the board. Toby Ross studied it, pulled a small book from his pocket, scribbled down a few notes and a tiny rough sketch.
    â€˜Thank you, Miss Adams.’ There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
    â€˜You do realize that our only concern is your uncle’s health, Mr Ross?’ she said earnestly.
    â€˜Of course, and so does he. But you also have to understand, Miss Adams, my uncle’s health depends on his art. He cannot survive without it.’
    â€˜Which is the only reason we haven’t banned you permanently from Craig-y-Nos. Goodbye, Mr Ross. Don’t forget to leave your mask and gown in the dirty linen bin.’ She turned to Harry. ‘Shall we continue our tour, Mr Evans?’
    Mary worked solidly through the morning. She couldn’t stop the occasional thought of Bob Pritchard arising while she scrubbed, scoured, cleaned and churned, but she could, and did, drive it out instantly, because she knew that if she didn’t, she’d go out of her mind.
    The agent had taken at least 80 pounds’ worth of livestock and produce for a 40-pound payment they’d never see in cash, and reduced their rent arrears by only 10 pounds because of ‘interest payments’. She suspected that next quarter their arrears would be back to 120 pounds – if not more – because no matter how much produce and money they managed to scrape together to give to him, he never reduced their debt to less than 100 pounds.
    Bob Pritchard made a show of marking everything he took from them in his book, but she knew he was aware that, like their parents, neither she nor her brothers and sister could read. She suspected he was cheating them, but she didn’t dare challenge him. Not when he had the power to throw them out of the only home they had ever known.
    His threats weren’t idle. He had made them to their neighbours and carried them out. Their stockman Albert Jones and his wife Lizzie, who had worked for her father in better times, as well as two other families who had been their closest neighbours, had been evicted from their cottages by bailiffs called in by Bob Pritchard. They had been thrown out on Christmas Eve when the snow had been lying six inches thick on the ground. The agent had even boasted that they would have had an eighteen-mile walk to the workhouse if it hadn’t been for his generosity in providing a cart to take them there. And after they’d left, he had supervised the removal of their possessions and furniture, sending everything to Brecon before boarding up the windows and doors on their houses.
    â€˜Didn’t you hear me calling?’ Bob moved into the doorway of the dairy, blocking out the light.
    â€˜No.’ Mary dropped the handle of the butter churn and instinctively backed away.
    â€˜I’m late because I had to go to Sennybridge to oversee the eviction of a family who were eighty pounds in rent