Читать книгу To See The Light Return - Sophie Galleymore Bird - Страница 12

The compression bandages were helping a bit. So was the poppy juice Dorcas had been trotting in with every four hours. It was helping so much that Primrose had spat the last dose into a water glass and hidden it on the windowsill, behind the curtain above her bed, keeping it for later. Because Primrose had a plan. She had to get out of here, and she had to do it tonight while everyone thought she was in too much pain to move. Hopefully, she could stash enough poppy juice to see her through the escape. She could still remember how difficult it had been walking the last time; at least this time, she might be in pain from the dozens of healing punctures in her flesh, but she wouldn’t be carrying so much weight.

Clothes. She needed clothes. And shoes. Her own had been taken when she arrived, and even if she still had them they would no longer fit her. She had grown upwards as well as sideways over the last five years. She knew Dorcas kept a wardrobe of assorted garments and footwear on this corridor, for the rare occasions she took her livestock out of the farm to village events such as Christmas concerts or fêtes. That hadn’t happened for at least a couple of years, since the drive for more and more fuel had become the new norm. But presumably the clothes were still there.

The first time she tried to have a look, pretending she needed to go to the toilet again, Agnes whisked out of a room at the end of the corridor and Primrose had to turn away quickly and pretend she was just on her way into the bathroom. She waited a good ten minutes before going back out, but Agnes was still there, dusting the staircase, and Primrose returned to her room frustrated. She waited another hour, then groaned, clutched her stomach and moaned that she had to go back to the loo. Alise looked at her with indifference and continued crunching her way through a bag of imported crisps, her reward for passing her weight gain target the day before. The rest of her booty – chocolate and a tin of biscuits – lay scattered over her blanket.

This time the corridor was empty. The wardrobe was past the bathroom, set back in an alcove. After checking there was still no one about, Primrose opened one of its two doors and was rewarded by the sight of coats and shoes. She grabbed a coat at random and a pair of shoes that looked like they should fit. The other door revealed shelves of folded clothes and a rail of dresses. Wanting loose garments that wouldn’t aggravate her wounds, she grabbed a dress and what looked like a jumper. Too scared to take the time to look to see what else was there, or to check for fit, she closed both doors.

Now what? She couldn’t take them back to the room while Alise was there and awake. The bathroom had a cupboard for storing the threadbare towels and sheets for this landing, and she headed there as fast as she could limp, burrowing in to the back, stashing the clothes where they would stay hidden until the next bed change, which shouldn’t be for another few days unless everyone became incontinent at once. Heart beating wildly with elation, she closed the door and turned to find Agnes, come to retrieve the bucket.

‘What are you doing in there?’ Agnes was only a couple of years older than her, but she was looking at Primrose as if she had true seniority, rather than a job skivvying for Dorcas and carrying shit around. Primrose felt a blush rise up her neck and, in that moment, she hated the other girl.

‘I was looking for sanitary towels, I think I’m about to come on,’ Primrose improvised, amazed at her own ready response. She clutched at her belly to back up her story and winced as the pressure bore down on the punctures from the liposuction.

‘We don’t keep them in there, Dorcas has a store cupboard upstairs. And you don’t go getting your own, you know we bring them to you.’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to make a mess for you to have to clear up.’ Primrose smiled ingratiatingly and started towards the door behind Agnes, stooped over and holding her belly.

‘Surprised you can feel anything with all that medicine,’ Agnes huffed, but she made way for Primrose and picked up the bucket. ‘I’ll bring you some pads in a minute, and a hot water bottle. Just got to deal with this.’ Her nose wrinkled, and Primrose felt ashamed of the pulse of hatred she had felt a moment ago. Agnes was just as trapped as she was.