House of Angels by Freda Lightfoot

to push them away, but was doing her utmost toremain calm, remembering how Prue had told her that these patients might be simple-minded but were largely harmless. It was hard to believe this as one reached out and squeezed her breast, chuckling with delight when she squealed.
    ‘Stop it,’ she cried, trying to sound like a disapproving schoolmarm. ‘Stop this at once.’ But they weren’t even listening to her. They had her apron entirely off now, followed by her cap. The men were crowding her, pushing and shoving, stroking her breasts and hips, and Mercy found herself helplessly cornered, unable to escape.
    Quite how it came about she could never afterwards explain. Maybe she slipped, or one of the men pushed her, but suddenly she was on the ground and they were all over her like a troop of inquisitive monkeys. She could smell their tainted breath, feel the roughness of their hands as they poked and probed at her.
    She let out a stifled scream, unable to help herself, recognising something like joyous madness in their eyes, and knew they could easily turn into a rabble out of control.
    Fear cascaded through her. What did they intend to do to her? She was quite incapable of fighting them all off. As she pushed one away another quickly took his place. Mercy felt trapped. One lifted her skirts, exposing her legs and she cried out in terror. Where was this nurse Prue had mentioned? Why didn’t the woman come and help her?
    And then she saw her, standing by what must be heroffice door. She seemed perfectly aware of what was going on as she stood watching, arms folded across her flat chest, saying nothing, and making not the slightest effort to step in and help her new assistant.
    ‘Help! Get them off me,’ Mercy cried.
    The man who had pulled up her skirts was now on top of her, grunting like a rutting animal and his mates were cheering and egging him on.
    ‘Go on, go on.’
    ‘She is wearing drawers,’ he cried in delight, hooting with laughter, as if he’d made a great discovery. ‘See, she is, she is.’
    ‘Let me see,’ cried another, pushing the first one away.
    Hands reached for her, and for one terrible moment Mercy was quite certain they meant to strip her entirely, but then a voice rang out. Not that of the nurse but a high-pitched falsetto.
    ‘That’s enough, boys. We’ve had our bit of fun, now no more rough games. Let her go.’ It was the man in the dress, and, by a miracle, the rabble obeyed. One moment they were like rampaging lunatics, the next they melted away, chuckling and giggling together, quite happy with their little joke. Some even redid the buttons of her frock, tied on her apron and tried to put her cap back on.
    ‘I like you,’ said one young man, giving her a kiss.
    Mercy was shaking, quite beside herself with terror, but somehow managed to thank him.
    The man, or woman, whatever he was, helped Mercyto her feet, brushed down her skirts and found her shoe, which seemed to have come off in the scuffle. ‘They can get a bit enthusiastic at times, bless them. Are you all right, love?’ His voice this time was deep and throaty, a man’s voice, and he held out a large calloused hand. ‘The name’s George, by the way, but everyone here calls me Georgina.’
    He shook her hand, grinning all the while. Then, leaning closer, he – or she – whispered softly in her ear. ‘You won’t tell on them, will you? It was only high spirits. They meant no harm, and they don’t get much chance of a laugh in this place. Only, if they get punished, it could all turn very nasty.’
    Mercy thought of the tramp in the cell breaking stones, and again glanced over to the office door. The nurse in charge of the ward was nowhere to be seen. Shocked as Mercy had been by the assault, she realised it would do her no good at all to make a complaint. Perhaps they were simply testing her, and she really didn’t seem to have any choice over which ward she was assigned to.
    She managed a tight little smile.