"When sorrows come, they come not as single spies but in battalions." I am afraid that Ruth's behaviour is becoming compulsive but am reluctant to tackle her about it for fear of what she might do to me. She is not above taking a stick to an old woman who annoys or frustrates her. I see it in her eyes, an awareness that I am more valuable to her dead than alive.

It was truly said: "He that dies pays all debts." If I knew where she was going every day, it would help, but she lies about that as she lies about everything. Could it be schizophrenia? She is certainly the right age for it. I trust the school will do something about it next term. I am not strong enough for any more scenes nor will I be blamed for what was never my fault. God knows, there was only one victim in all this, and that was little Mathilda Cavendish. I wish I could remember her, that loving lovely child, but she is as insubstantial to me now as memories of my mother. Forgotten wraiths, both of them, unloved, abused, neglected.

Thank God for Sarah. She convinces me that like Shakespeare's sad old man "I am more sinned against than sinning..."


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