Thorn by Sarah Rayne Page A

mill-owner she had married and how they had eventually been forced to shut her away in one wing of the place with a keeper and bars on the doors. Thornacre had long since passed into the hands of the Northumbrian authorities, but the name still brought a shiver of horror to most of the family. It was like having a bruise that never quite healed so that it hurt if someone pressed it. It had hurt last month when Thornacre had been on the national news, one of the mental homes investigated by the Rackham Commission.
    Rosa was the first to speak. She said, very briskly, ‘Look here, wherever we put her, whatever Royston wanted or didn’t want, there’s still the matter of the death certificates.’ She looked challengingly around the room. ‘Has anyone thought about that?’
    Every eye turned to John Shilling, and as if the words were being scraped out of him, he said, ‘Royston had been suffering from angina pectoris. An infarct – that’s a coronary thrombosis –wouldn’t be unexpected. It might even have been the actual cause. And his medical records would be consistent with that verdict. Yes, I could sign a certificate to that effect, and with reasonable honesty.’
    â€˜And Eloise?’
    Eloise . . . For the first time, John realised that he was something of a linchpin in this bizarre situation, and the knowledge steadied him slightly. ‘That’s a bit different,’ he said. ‘Unless a doctor’s been in attendance for the fourteen days immediately prior to death, a certificate can’t be given and the coroner has to be informed.’ He paused. ‘I was treating Eloise for several minor illnesses but none of them were consistent with – with sudden death.’
    â€˜Ah. A pity.’
    â€˜It would mean tampering with existing medical records, making out a false death certificate. If I was caught, I would unquestionably be struck off. I would probably be imprisoned for several years.’ The enormity of it showed briefly in his eyes. ‘I oughtn’t to be even having this conversation . . .’
    â€˜But the very fact that you are . . .’ Thalia let the sentence remain unfinished.
    â€˜If ever there was talk, if ever an exhumation was called for—’
    â€˜Can’t that be got around by having them cremated?’ asked George.
    â€˜Oh no, that’s out of the question. For cremation, two signatures are needed on the death certificate.’
    â€˜We can’t risk that,’ said Rosa at once.
    â€˜We’re asking too much of you,’ put in Aunt Dilys. ‘Yes, of course we are.’
    Asking too much of him . . . John Shilling stared round the room.
    After a moment, Thalia said gently, ‘It would save Imogen, John. It would save Eloise’s daughter from an almost certain life sentence as well, if not in gaol, then in Broadmoor.’
    â€˜Or Thornacre,’ said Dilys.
    â€˜Oh, I don’t think we should even consider that as a possibility,’ said Rosa. ‘And anyway—’
    â€˜Lucienne was put in Thornacre, wasn’t she?’ asked Cousin Elspeth.
    â€˜Yes, she was actually,’ said Thalia. ‘I think it was privately funded in those days. Pre-NHS and welfare state, of course.’
    Juliette asked if Thornacre was going to be allowed to continue as an asylum after the findings of the Rackham Commission, and was rather glad that she had thought of a word other than madhouse.
    â€˜Yes, I think so,’ said Thalia.
    â€˜Well, I’m very surprised to hear that,’ put in Aunt Dilys, ‘after all the scandal. A nightmare place, they called it. The attendants used to lock the troublesome patients into the old outbuildings so that they couldn’t hear them screaming. Wash houses and sheds. And there was a really bleak part which was once the workhouse in eighteen fifty-something – they put the really difficult ones in there and left them for