A Christmas Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

be a lie, just an accurate description of his drunken state, hovering between physical reality and the intoxicated worlds of theimagination, or the darkness where nightmares and vision collide.
    Claudine reported to the nurse in charge, who viewed her coldly until she mentioned the clinic and Hester Monk’s name. Then the response was quite different: a sudden flash of warmth. She was taken by a more junior nurse, who was hurried and overbusy, to where Winnie Briggs lay motionless on a narrow cot, one in a row of many others just like it. The ward was horribly impersonal, but it was both clean and reasonably airy, a legacy of Florence Nightingale’s unceasing battle for improved hospital conditions.
    Even so, Claudine was horrified when she saw the young woman lying under the stiff sheets. She was still unconscious, breathing shallowly. Her face was even more swollen now, and the bruises were black-and-blue. The blood had been washed away, but that made the extent of her injuries more obvious. One eye was closed, and—until the flesh resumed its normal proportions—it would be impossible to see out of it. There were also bruises on her slender neck and across her shoulders. One could not judge her age, except that it must be between fifteen and thirty.
    Claudine had seen many beaten women before. Inthe clinic it was a common occurrence: prostitutes punished by their pimps for laziness, theft, or simply lack of earnings; or beaten by dissatisfied customers who hated them, hated the world, or despised themselves for what they had become.
    “Has she stirred at all?” she asked the nurse.
    The nurse shook her head fractionally. “Not so far as I know, ma’am.”
    “Has anyone been to see her?” she pressed.
    “Doctor’s been to see her, but there in’t nothing much he can do.”
    “I meant visitors. Police, friends, anyone at all?”
    “I don’t know. People come and go. I don’t know as she’s done anything wrong. Why would the police want to see her?”
    Claudine knew the woman was tired, overworked, and probably underappreciated, but the question seemed stupid. She controlled her anger with an effort.
    “Because someone beat her senseless,” she replied. “That’s a crime, no matter who she is.”
    The nurse shook her head. “That happens all the time,” she said quietly, as if it were Claudine, not she, who was the ignorant one.
    “I’m sorry,” Claudine responded. “I know that. Iwork in a clinic myself. This was different. It happened at a party given by wealthy people, and a man is being hunted by the police for having done this. It’s important that they get the right man.”
    The nurse looked surprised then sad. “Poor thing. Well, she hasn’t said a word. Never opened her eyes, so far. I’m … not sure as she’s going to.”
    Claudine looked back at the figure on the bed, and a coldness grew inside her.
    “I brought a few things for her: soap and a small bottle of lavender water and a clean comb for her hair. If there is anything else she needs, or that would ease her pain, perhaps you would purchase it for her if I give you the money?” She pulled out the bag she had brought and passed it over.
    “ ’Course I will,” the nurse said with surprise. “Who shall I say left it for her?”
    “She doesn’t know me. I was there last night and tried to help her a bit, that’s all. I’ll wait a little while, just in case she stirs. Can you bring me a chair to sit on?”
    “Yeah … if you want.” The nurse still seemed somewhat doubtful of her.
    “I do. Thank you,” Claudine said firmly.
    Less than an hour later, while Claudine was still there sitting, half in a dream, Winnie suddenly began to breathe in a more labored way. She was almost gasping, as if she struggled to fill her lungs.
    Claudine sat forward and touched the girl’s white hand on the sheets. It was listless.
    Within seconds the struggle became more desperate. Claudine got to her feet and ran to the main door of