go upstairs and change.” Nicola turned, and keeping her gaze lowered, moved past Frances.
“Have Nat and I been so blind?” Her anguished cry halted Nicola as nothing else would.
“You’ve wanted the mother you’ve always dreamed of. There is nothing wrong in that.”
Tears gathered in Fran’s eyes and slipped over her lashes as if they were in a race. “What has she done?”
“Fran, I’m rather tired...”
“Mother is the reason why you aren’t eating or sleeping and why you spend all your time at the Home. I want the truth now. What has she been saying?”
“Hardly anything at all.” How could she shatter Fran’s happiness? She tried to think of an excuse to leave, but gazing into her dear friend’s face she realised that excuses wouldn’t work.
“You’re lying.”
“She…she mentioned that she wants you and Nathaniel to return to England with her.” Nicola shrugged as though they were discussing social gossip.
“And?”
“And that…that she would prefer it if I stayed here.” The hurt of those words clawed at her chest.
Fran blinked. The shock clear on her face. “How have we been so stupid…so gullible?” She went to embrace Nicola, but habit made Nicola jump out of the way.
“What is it?” Anger now replaced Fran’s astonishment. “You recoiled from Mother too. In fact you jumped as though you’d been scalded.” She jerked forward and grabbed Nicola’s arms. “I demand the truth.”
Nicola opened her mouth to speak but her voice dried up.
Frances glanced down and frowning, pulled up Nicola’s sleeves that displayed old and new bruises received from Silvana’s pinches. A punishment Silvana had delivered at every opportunity.
“Mother did this to you?” Fran gasped, disbelievingly.
She could only nod.
“Why?”
“She…she hates me. I’m not good enough for her family and so she punishes me with vile insults and pinching when no one is here.”
“I cannot believe it.” Fran stared at the bruises, stroking them gently. “I should have known her concern wasn’t genuine, but it was so nice to be loved by her at long last…”
“I know.”
“She used to pinch me, too...” Fran looked up, her face the colour of putty. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t want to make you and Nathaniel unhappy.”
“I knew something wasn’t right.” Fran’s chin wobbled, anger blazed in her eyes for a second before desolation replaced it. “I-I said to Nat only today, in the carriage, that there was something troubling you.”
“I wanted to speak up, truly I did.”
“Oh, Nicola.” Bent like an old woman, Fran stumbled over to the sofa. “What have we done? What have we done!” Her heartbreaking sobs filled the room and Nicola rushed to offer what comfort she could.
“This will crush Nat.” Fran choked on a sob.
Nicola stiffened. “No, it won’t. I will make sure it doesn’t.”
* * *
On the hotel landing, Nat opened the first door on the left, an empty bedroom. The next door revealed the same, as did the third. The last door was locked. He knocked.
“Who is it?”
Nat grimaced, recognising Lombard’s voice inside. “Barman,” Nat said gruffly behind his hand.
“I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Got a note for you.” Nat waited, heard a thump and a several swear words and then the pleasing sound of the lock being drawn back. When the handle turned and the door opened a crack, Nat put his shoulder to it and shoved.
“What the hell?” Lombard fell backwards onto the floor.
Nat got his balance quickly and hauled him up by his shirt. “Did you miss me, Tristan?” he asked, just before he smashed his fist into Lombard’s face. The pain of bone on bone ricocheted up his wrist and he bit back a groan.
Lombard hung off Nat like a limp doll. “West, look, you don’t need to do this.”
“Don’t I?” Nat brought his fist down again, smashing the man’s nose. The renewed pain in his hand made him drop his hold of Lombard.
Howling, Lombard writhed on the floor, blood spewing from his nose. “You bastard! Ah God, Christ almighty,” he gasped, swearing, crying.
Nat stood over him. “How pathetic you are. Get up.” He dragged Lombard to his knees and brought back his fist again.
“No, for the love of Christ, no. I can’t take anymore.”
“Don’t be a girl, I’ve only hit you twice.” Nat spat, leering close. “My wife was stabbed.”
“I’m sorry, so sorry. I never meant for that to happen.”
“You coward, you can’t even own up to it. You did want it to happen. Own up to it. Say it, for God’s sake before I kill you!” Rage brought Nat’s fist down on Lombard’s cheek. This time the