A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two

Chapter Nineteen

The first night with Ada and Freddie she'd woken with a jolt, shouting "No!" into the darkness that engulfed Karl's bedroom. Twice.

Ada had kicked her into the drawing-room after that. Karl was a fussy enough baby, he didn't need his aunt waking him up throughout the night simply because her mind was running wild with her.

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The second night she'd done the same, this time startling herself as she fell from the sofa smack onto the hard floor.

The smell of wet hay filled her nostrils.

She was light-headed and achy, drenched in her own sweat and wildly nauseous.

Fresh air was sorely needed.

Moving from her spot on the floor, Charlotte shuffled her way across the room to fling open the window.

Trying to push past her nausea, she breathed in deep through her nose as she rested her head on the windowsill. Exhaling slowly, she felt the beads of sweat on her brow cool and dissipate as the late winter breeze picked up and chilled her damp skin.

Relaxing into the gentle touch of London's cold air, Charlotte opened her eyes and was surprised to see a pack of cigarettes wedged between the window and the cabinet.

Reaching out, she snatched one up and moved to light it in the dying fire opposite the sofa.

Taking a long drag, she let the chemicals relax her body — even as she felt her chest tighten against the invading foreign substance.

She coughed. Heavily. Hacking, really.

She'd never been able to indulge in the "filthy habit" — Polly's phrase whenever she'd caught Charlotte in the act — long enough or often enough to get used to the feeling of smoke in her lungs. But, the calming effect of the tar was a feeling she'd not soon forget.

A bit of ash fell onto the floor and Charlotte cursed, "Shit." Ada had strict rules for smoking in the house — it was strictly forbidden. Brushing away the remnants from the carpet, she sighed hoping Ada wouldn't notice. Must be why the sticks were hidden next to the window.

Making a snap decision, Charlotte stamped the cigarette out, fetched a match from the fire, and began her careful sneak into the hallway. Aiming to be as quiet as possible Charlotte made her way towards the back door — farthest away from Tommy's henchmen guarding out front. If she wanted to cool off undisturbed in the fresh air, the back garden was the best — and only — way to achieve her goal.

Just as she reached the door, however, her bare foot kicked an unexpected coal pail and she hissed in pain. Sushing the inanimate object, Charlotte reached down to stop the damned thing from making so much racket. Didn't the stupid bucket know she was meant to be sneaking? Fucking inconsiderate. Frozen in her spot, hovering over the pail, she waited, straining to hear any movement from the rest of the flat.

When all was silent she continued on.

Sidestepping the pail that had likely been placed in the middle of the walkway as a reminder to her brother-in-law that the small family was low on the heat source, Charlotte finally opened the door, gaining access to the somewhat 'fresh' London air.

Leaving the door open, Charlotte sat with her butt on the inside, and toes cooling on the stone steps that lead to a nice small patch of green grass.

Closing her eyes, Charlotte sighed as her skin quickly cooled. This was nice.

Her back and neck still ached, her hands smarting from the fall. But the nausea was fading — as were the memories of the dream that had sent her sprawling onto the drawing-room floor.