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Belle Vue Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHTWednesday, 24 March, 1869As Ellen entered the building, she blinked and adjusted her focus to the shadows surrounding her. The woman next to her began to twitch and raised her voice to match the not-so-welcoming din that echoed through the gloom. Bodies jostled her on all sides. She staggered along the hallway to where the corridors intersected. To the right, inmates lined the seemingly endless gallery as though on display. Some were motionless, others swayed to and fro. Manic laughter erupted from scattered figures as though they were sharing a private joke by unnatural means. A man, standing near the corner, scolded an unseen companion.But it was the humiliation still to come that dominated Ellen’s thoughts. She struggled to stay calm. A burly female warder, a few feet ahead, stepped in a puddle then kicked out at the cowering figure at the edge of it. Ellen hesitated, unsure what to do, but a shove from behind propelled her into a room on the left-hand side. The m
Belle Vue Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINEMonday, 8 DecemberMarianne jabbed the doorbell for the fifth time.“Come on, Claire,” she muttered, “It’s freezing out here.”She pressed the button again and held it down. When her finger threatened to lose all feeling, she removed it and blew on her hands. It had been warm on the bus, but after her walk up the long drive to Belle Vue’s front entrance, she didn’t fancy standing in the cold without good reason. She half-jogged to the edge of the step and looked toward the chapel. She’d noticed a flash of blue and white on her way up, but from this direction she had a better view. A stream of tape circling a couple of trees at the back of the small church fluttered in the wind. When she got in the warm and thawed out, she’d ask Claire about it. Marianne trotted back to the door. Another jab, then another.“Hello?” A groggy voice crackled through the intercom.“Claire, are you okay?”“Just woke up. Christ, what time is it?”“Worry about that later. Let me in before
Belle Vue Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TENThursday, 22 April, 1869Mary finished the last of her eel pie. She wiped her lips and took another mouthful of ale. The London & North Western Railway service she’d taken from King’s Cross to St. Albans arrived well before noon in good time for lunch. Bill had met her at the station as instructed and they were now seated in the White Hart Inn partaking of a light repast.She smirked at her future brother-in-law. The blank mask of his expression gave nothing away. Well, neither would she. He didn’t intimidate her. She had plans for Bill, just as she had plans for Jack—and Ellen, of course. Her half-sister had been at Belle Vue over two months now. She seemed to spend much of her time composing letters asking her to visit and complaining it wasn’t what she expected. No doubt, Lady Muck would expect her to listen to her endless whining. She was curious to see the asylum after all this time, though.She sat back in her chair and raised her arm to pat her vibrant coiffu
Belle Vue Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVENFriday, 19 December “Hamish? Professor Quigly?” Alex knocked twice. He pushed open the door and peered into the spacious office.His tutor’s round ebony face beamed. Hamish placed the sheaf of papers he held on top of a pile of similar documents. He moved away from the neat rows of books lining the wall.“Come in, come in,” he beckoned Alex, with the merest trace of a Scottish lilt, fluttering his fingers like streamers in a wind tunnel.Hamish nodded toward the green leather Chesterfield. Alex sat down and took out a wire-bound notebook and pen from his laptop case. Meanwhile, Hamish tidied the journals on the coffee table. Casting a rueful glance at his curious expression, Hamish gingerly seated himself on the matching armchair. “Piles,” he said, with a grimace.“Pardon?”“Hemorrhoids, man. Bane of my life. Still when you get to over forty-five.” Hamish chuckled. “Well, let’s say fifty and leave it there.” His hand lifted in the direction of his white-flecked a
Belle Vue Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVESaturday, 11 October, 1862When Mary discovered what the role of scullion in the Duc de Montalt’s London house entailed, she was not greatly impressed. Shocked would be a better description. To think Mam—as she’d called Catherine then—and Father Patrick had put her forward for such a lowly position. Nothing but grinding drudgery in the kitchens from first thing in the morning to gone midnight. It was the only vacancy, they’d said, but for all their poverty, she thought Mam had been preparing her for better work than this. She even slept in a box bed that folded out of a cupboard in the scullery corridor, for God’s sake. No privacy at all. Mam had responded by saying if she used her brain and worked hard, she could rise one day to become a cook or housekeeper. Mary noted she hadn’t said Lady’s Maid, as Catherine had been when her family fell on hard times. As though Mary wasn’t cut out for that exalted position. No doubt, the precious Ellen, safe and cosseted by Mam at
Belle Vue Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEENFriday, 16 January Claire gripped the steering wheel, pressed the accelerator, and crossed the junction as the light turned red. She drove back to her apartment by rote, her mind a whirl. The exam this morning had been a disaster: so much for Public Relations being her best subject. On her answers today, she couldn’t manage a good turnout for the Pope at a Catholic convention.What was wrong with her? Okay, she hadn’t done as much revision as she’d have liked. She found it so hard to concentrate these days and couldn’t remember a thing. Her stomach had rumbled its way through the seemingly endless three hours, despite the cereal, toast, chocolate bar, and banana she’d eaten at breakfast. To top it off, Alex was miffed because she’d told him she was going to stay in and crash this weekend: catch up on her sleep and hopefully get some work done on her own dissertation. Talk about selfish. It was as if he didn’t want her to do well. His first class honors was in the b
Belle Vue Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEENWednesday, 30 June, 1869Fanned by the breeze, the warm rays of the afternoon sun caressed Johnson Nottidge’s face. He relaxed and indulged himself in a recollection of his numerous sexual encounters over the past month or so. Eyes closed, his memories flitted from his conquests in London to those closer to home. As his mind wandered to his current location—the grounds of Belle Vue—thoughts of Samuel and Adelaide Fishburn turned up like bad pennies to blight his enjoyment.Dreadful man, with a dreadful wife. Fishburn was nothing but a stooge for his ‘lean and hungry’ spouse. She was about as trustworthy as Cassius, too. Given the choice though, he still preferred the Matron. Greed, lust, wrath, and vanity were all emotions he understood. He remembered how surprised he’d been when he’d peered through the front window of Bill Callahan’s cottage last week and saw her fellating the Head Attendant like some third-rate whore. He had not made a sound and they hadn’t notice
Belle Vue Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEENFriday, 6 February “Not another workout?” Claire asked, raising her eyebrows in obvious disbelief.Marianne bustled into the sitting room in her old tracksuit. She stopped by the sofa where Claire reclined with her feet up.“I know. Weird, huh? It’s like a magnet. If you told me a month ago how much I’d be using the health club, I’d have said you were mad.” Marianne laughed and wondered aloud, “Maybe there are forces here compelling me to get fit.”“Well, they don’t work for me. I feel lousy and can’t remember the last time I had the urge to do any exercise.” Claire yawned. She ran her hands over her face. “Ugh. Spots, bags, and crusty eyes. I bet I look awful, too.”Marianne gazed at Claire with dismay at how frail and washed out she looked but responded automatically. “No, you don’t.”A telling pause as Claire’s face seemed to acknowledge her tactful, but untrue words. Marianne continued, “You’ve lost a bit of your oomph with all this final year stress. Why do
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Belle Vue Epilogue
EPILOGUEThe woman joined the queue serviced by a male immigration official. She’d already caught his eye as she sauntered across the concourse. Lucky break for her. The man had ‘dupe’ written all over him.After a tiresome wait, she was next in line. While he dealt with the elderly couple at his window, she reached into her bag and rummaged around: purse, brush, mobile phone, solicitor’s letter confirming she’d inherited, amongst other things, Moira’s apartment at Belle Vue and the two other properties it had been necessary to acquire for the plan to work. Her fingers kept moving until they felt smooth calfskin. She pulled out the passport holder and held it ready in her hand.The old-timers shuffled off to the next staging post and the man turned toward her. As his gaze met hers, she licked her lips ... slowly. She moved forward, pleased to note he wore an expression like all his Christmases had come at once. Perspiration ran down his face. With this air conditioning?
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENMonday, 18 May Alex collected a torch, pen knife, and a box of matches to take with him to Belle Vue. Thoughts of Claire, and how she’d faced her death alone, darkened his mood. As did his uncertainty about giving Miss Bradigan’s words any credence.His journey to the chapel was uneventful. A few nods in the car park to a couple of residents he knew by sight, but no one he needed to speak to. The brightness of the afternoon sun lingered though it was past four. As he opened the heavy oak door, the gloom of the interior pushed its way out to the porch. He stepped inside, registering the drop in temperature. The chill made the hairs on his arms stand to attention. He moved farther into the chapel. Surrounded by silence, he stood alone at the back of the pews. His awareness of this solitude stretched his nerves further.Alex took out the scrap of paper on which he’d jotted Miss Bradigan’s instructions and scanned his notes. He walked along the central aisle, turn
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXMonday, 13 December, 1869 Adelaide pulled her cape tightly round her shoulders and began the short walk from her residence to the main asylum building. The darkness and fog made it almost impossible to see. The gas lantern she carried was of little use. Like a blind woman, she edged forward relying on habit to find her way. If anything, her nerves rather than lack of sight slowed her progress. Every few feet she would stop to check nothing was following her. As she shuffled forward again, Adelaide turned her head one way then the other for the same reason.Mary Grady’s letter had chilled her to the bone. It arrived the day after she’d overheard Nottidge and Callahan talking. That night she’d gone to bed worrying so much Samuel had commented on her distraction. He’d complained she had barely said a word to him all evening and hadn’t given him so much as a goodnight kiss. Let him sulk, she thought. She had curled into a tight ball at the edge of the bed and thought
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVESunday, 17 May After a full day of revision and numerous rounds of beer in the Union bar, Alex and Paul sat at a corner table in the Bengal Tiger restaurant, waiting for their order to arrive. A contented hum from the many diners mingled with the low, but distinctive tones of the background sitar music. Two waiters drew up with a laden trolley and began placing numerous dishes in front of them.“I’ve got to say this, Alex,” Paul said. “When you started seeing Marianne, it was like I was pushed out of the picture.”Uh oh, this didn’t sound good, Alex thought, wondering what had triggered this topic. Conscious the delivery rate had slowed somewhat, Alex used eyebrow semaphore to signal Paul to hold until the waiters had finished. His mate, however, seemed oblivious of the additional audience and continued.“I’m friends with lots of girls, but to get a special spark is rare for me. You can sleep with someone, but you know something’s missing, and it’s that spar
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Four
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURMonday, 29 November, 1869Johnson Nottidge felt good this morning. Having slept soundly last night, he woke refreshed at nine, with an all-too-rare sense of anticipation of what the day might bring. He leaned back against the leather of his wingback chair, closed his eyes, and contemplated some of the activities he had planned for the evening. It was arrivals day, too, so he was keen to learn if the latest delivery threw up any interesting specimens. Cocooned in his luxurious office, away from the cacophony of madness, the crackling of the fire was the only accompaniment to his contemplation.Little in this world bothered him: losing at cards, Fortnum’s running out of his favorite port, being present when Samuel Fishburn moaned about another Asylum Board inspection, even his father threatening to disown him. These were mere pin-pricks of irritation, but nothing that might interrupt his lifelong pursuit of satiating his every whim. When the local newspapers report
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREESunday, 10 May Alex stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. His mobile rang, breaking his scrutiny of the St. Alban’s skyline at night through the distortion of a rain-spattered window. He slid the phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and checked the number before answering. No name listed.“Hello?”“Is that Alex Palmer?”“Speaking.”“Hi, Alex. It’s Debra Edwards.”The kettle switched itself off, but he ignored it.“Thanks for returning my call. Is Marianne with you?” he asked.“No. Why?”“I haven’t heard from her for over a week. When did you last speak to her?”“Must be two or three weeks ago. She was still in a strop because I didn’t want to come and see the apartment. And given her moods these days, Alex, I hate to say this, but she’s probably avoiding you. Had you thought of that?”He laughed. “It did cross my mind, but I’ve emailed her, left phone and text messages asking her to let me know she’s okay.” Alex paused and swallowed.
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOMonday, 15 November, 1869The weather was dank and overcast. A suitable morning for a hanging.Johnson Nottidge stood next to the Governor of St. Alban’s Gaol as the man took out his fob watch and looked at it for the third time in as many minutes. Frederick Butt held it out for him to see and tutted. The man’s nerves were obviously getting the better of him. 7:45 a.m. Still, a quarter hour to go. Nottidge’s excitement rose. The thrill of watching Mary Grady die would be an experience hard to equal.The gibbet dominated the small prison yard. They stared at it, Nottidge with fascination while Butt wrinkled his nose with distaste. There being another hanging at Maidstone that day, William Calcraft, the General Executioner of Great Britain, was unavailable, but one of his assistants had stepped in. By all accounts, Ernest Ruggles was efficient at his job. So far, Nottidge had to agree, the man, in addition to his fee, had negotiated with Butt to keep the clothes an
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty-One
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONESaturday, 2 May The morning after his celebration with Marianne, Alex left her sleeping as he crept out of the apartment. Before they’d finally dozed off, Marianne had mentioned meeting him in the Union bar at about one. Nothing had been confirmed. He needed to take a pile of books back to the library first, then he’d contact her and decide how to play the ‘take a breather’ conversation.Jeff Reichenberg was in the hall. To judge from the dampness of his hair and sports gear, he’d just finished a strenuous workout. After a few words of greeting, Alex made his way down the stairs to the main foyer. The man had given him a strange look. It made him feel awkward as though he was somehow letting Claire down by being seen leaving Marianne’s. Last night had been as wild as ever. After that first shock and her reaction, it could have all gone horribly wrong, but she’d taken the champagne from him and clad in that outfit, led him willingly to the bedroom. She then did th
Belle Vue Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTYTuesday, 19 October, 1869“Madhouse Murder trial starts today!”“Read All About It.”“Murderess Faces Judge and Jury.”The whey-faced paper sellers ran to and fro doing a brisk trade.Johnson Nottidge stepped down from his carriage into the bustling Hertford Street as the downpour started. The coachman hurried forward and held an umbrella over him. Using the end of his walking stick, Nottidge prodded a ragamuffin out of his path and made his way into the courthouse. Behind him others followed suit, seeking shelter and, even better, a few hours’ entertainment in the warm. He removed his doeskin gloves and looked around the main courtroom. The public gallery and reporters’ box were already fit to burst—standing room only—and now the jumble of rainproof trappings, discarded willy-nilly, added to the chaotic atmosphere. In the enclosed surroundings, the air was pungent with the mix of sodden clothes and unwashed bodies.He breathed in deeply and relished his anticipat
