Another day to get through, another day of hell on this godforsaken fell. What was the point? She may as well be dead. ‘Where’s my medicine? You’re supposed to give me my medicine.’ ‘Not until you get yourself off your back, otherwise I’d get no work from you ever.’ Beth couldn’t get through her day without the medicine. ‘Witch,’ she seethed. ‘Whore.’ ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she snapped. No one visited except the quarterly supply cart that brought their flour, oil, candles and other essentials including her medicine. ‘If you don’t curb that temper of yours you’ll get none of your poppy juice until tonight.’ Mrs Roberts rattled the keys in her hand. She must keep them under her pillow at night, Beth thought. She had searched everywhere else for them. Beth was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Roberts.’ ‘That’s better.’ ‘When can I have it?’ ‘I’ll think about it when you’ve milked the nanny.’ ‘Evil witch,’ Beth said under her breath as the older woman left her chamber.
