he said. “Perhaps you might like some breakfast? We grow quite a few of our own vegetables, the chickens give us eggs, and Mrs. Biggs is a fine cook.”
“I don’t think you heard me,” she insisted through clenched teeth. She didn’t give a damn about chickens or vegetables. “My husband would never—”
“I’m afraid he did,” Dr. Creswell interrupted. “But we’re here to help you, Mrs. Durrant.”
Esther’s shoulders slumped, not wanting to believe it but hearing the ring of truth in the doctor’s words.
“As I was saying, a boat comes once a week with other essentials. So you’ll see we manage rather well.”
Once a week. Esther began to calculate rapidly. At worst, she’d be here for no more than seven days; if she managed to escape the confines of the house, that was. But if she did escape and make her way home, would John not simply send her back, believing it was the best place for her? Where would she go instead? Her parents? Or would they defer to her husband’s authority and insist that she be returned, like an unwanted package, to this windblown, pitiless place? And what about Teddy? Nanny couldn’t look after him all by herself—what about on her day off? Even as she thought this, she acknowledged that Nanny had been looking after Teddy for months, forfeiting any leave owing to her, working around the clock to see to his needs because Esther had been unable to. Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of her situation, to find a way out.
“Now, some breakfast, Mrs. Durrant?” the doctor asked again as if she were a welcome guest. “We will, of course, unbind you.” He said this as if it were nothing out of the ordinary to wrap a person up in thick calico so tightly they could barely move.
Esther threw him a withering look.
Chapter Eight
St. Mary’s, Spring 2018
Rachel had passed a couple of pubs on her way to the cottage earlier that day. The Mermaid, with its brightly painted sign of a round-bosomed maiden combing her hair, was next to the wharf, its footings in the sand, practically in the water. The other, the Bishop and Wolf, was on the main street and she found it easily.
It was warm and cozy inside and a fire crackled in the grate. There was a low hum of people chatting, and an occasional metallic clatter and shout from the back of the pub, where she assumed a kitchen must be. She walked up to the bar, ordered half a pint of the local ale, and then asked the girl serving if she knew anyone called Janice.
She smiled at her. “You must be the new research scientist.”
Rachel was a little taken aback that even the barmaid knew who she was. It was a small island, but not that small surely?
“Janice is my mum,” the girl explained.
“Oh, right.” Rachel smiled back at her. “She left me a note. I’m supposed to meet her here.”
The girl placed her drink on the bar in front of her and nodded in the direction of a doorway. “In the back bar. You won’t miss her. I’m Lucy, by the way.”
“Rachel. And thanks.”
Lucy had been right. Janice was the only woman in the small timber-lined room but Rachel wouldn’t have missed her had there been a sea of other females. She was a symphony in teal, purple, and copper. She would have out-peacocked a peacock had there been any in the vicinity.
“Hello, love. You must be Rachel.” Her loud voice boomed in the small space. She stood up and shook Rachel’s hand enthusiastically, her beaded earrings jangling, and then waved her toward a seat opposite.
“So where were you before here?” she asked as Rachel sat down. Rachel explained her last assignment and Janice’s eyes rounded. “Ooh, that sounds very exotic. Heck of a sight warmer than here, that’s for sure.”
“It’ll get better in summer though, won’t it?” Rachel asked hopefully.
“Eventually,” Janice laughed, jangling again with a musical tone. “For at least a couple of weeks. But the islands will grow on you, mark my words. You’ll find it hard to leave. Almost everyone does.”
Rachel decided that now was not the time to disagree and she took a sip of her beer.
“I hope the cottage is suitable,” said Janice. “We had to scrounge around for some new furniture. The last resident did something dreadful to the sofa—best not to ask,” she said, as she caught the look of alarm on Rachel’s face. “But it was