‘But I have to get out,’ I said. ‘There’s somewhere important I need to be.’

‘Oh?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘So this isn’t important?’

‘No, I didn’t mean…’ I tailed off. ‘Look, it’s urgent that I get somewhere, and it has to be before five.’

‘And where’s that, then?’ Her amber eyes narrowed. ‘Is it connected to the assault?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Look, there was no assault. She did it herself.’

Her reaction was hardly unexpected. She gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Of course she did.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Look, is there no way…?’

I left the question hanging, hoping she might see fit to work some kind of deal. I had to get the money for Rick…had to. It was of paramount importance. Far more important than the trumped-up charge they were holding me under.

‘Well, suppose you tell me where you need to be, and why?’

I was about to explain that I needed to get to the bank. I even opened my mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut again. I could explain where, but I couldn’t explain why. At least, I could…I could make something up but, if they checked and caught me out, I’d be in even worse trouble.

I scowled and said nothing.

‘I see,’ she said, knowingly. The triumph in her voice irritated me beyond belief. I was trying to save a girl’s reputation. She had no idea what she was doing, keeping me there.

She looked at her watch. ‘Look, I can’t question you without your lawyer present,’ she said, sounding irritated herself. ‘And you won’t stoop to using one of ours, so…’

She stared at me, meaningfully. I slumped in my chair. There was no way I was trusting anyone with this except Lionel. If there was anyone who could turn this whole thing inside-out and effect me a swift release, it was him.

‘When’s he likely to arrive?’ I’d lost all track of time, by then. The interview room had no windows, so I couldn’t even use the quality of daylight for an approximate estimation. There was no quality of light in this room. It was fluorescent – as harsh and unforgiving as the sour-mouthed woman sitting in front of me.

She was still leaning back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and regarding me thoughtfully. She shrugged. ‘He’s in court, apparently.’ She stood up. ‘So it could be anytime.’

‘What time is it now?’

She looked at her watch. ‘A quarter to four.’

She must have noticed me shift in agitation at this, because she seemed to relent, and her face softened slightly. ‘Look, the courts shut at four thirty. He’ll be out of there soon, if he’s not already.’

‘You think?’ I could feel my heart racing. It was cutting it so fine.

‘He’s probably on his way already.’ The officer standing at the door opened it, stepping back slightly so that she could leave. ‘I’m confident enough that I’m leaving you here. It’s not worth taking you back to the cells.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Someone will be with you shortly.’

With that, she turned and left the room, the other officer following her and locking the door behind him. The screech of the lock hitting home set off an immediate fluttering behind my breastbone. I’d already had palpitations earlier, when I’d been slammed into a cell. I’d been okay since I’d been in the interview room because I hadn’t been alone, but now I could feel the panic rising up inside me again.

Fucking Max. He’d locked me in a cupboard at school, once, and got caught out of bed. He’d ended up in isolation, locked in a tiny bedroom on his own, and I’d been left there all night, cramped and cold. When I’d finally been let out, hunched over and hyperventilating, I’d ended up in isolation, too. I’d had a fear of confined spaces ever since. Glass lifts, I could cope with, but the steel ones…well, it was the first thing I’d changed in all our hotels and clubs.

Any time I was shut in anywhere, I was the same. There was nothing I could do about it, though. I just had to sit there, coughing occasionally to relieve the palpitations, and hoping that Lionel wasn’t going to take much longer.

    Nine

Her

The counsellor’s office was on the second floor of a bland apartment building in Chelsea. When the receptionist had asked me, on the phone, who had referred me, I’d nearly rung off. I could hardly tell her I had no name to give her. I’d stammered something about a friend of my boss, expecting her to probe me for further details, but she hadn’t.

‘I see,’ she’d said. ‘I understand. Can you make this afternoon at four?’

And that’d been that.

I’d sat for five minutes or so in Reception, wondering what the hell I was going to say, and how I was going to be able to explain myself honestly, until the same receptionist had called me, and shown me through to a cool, quiet room, overlooking Beaufort Street.

A small, neat woman with dark hair and glasses sat at a desk in the corner but stood up as I entered and came over to me.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling warmly and shaking my hand. ‘I’m Valentina.’

‘Grace,’ I said. ‘I’m…that is…’

‘Please.’ She cut through my stumblings and gestured to a couple of chairs by the window. ‘Sit down. Let’s talk about what you are doing here.’

I sat down on the edge of one of the seats. There was a small coffee table between us, on which sat a box of tissues. Valentina sat in the other seat.

‘So why are you here, Grace?’ she said, putting her hands on her knee and leaning forward. She looked earnest, and sincerely interested and, all of a sudden, I felt a complete imposter. What was I even doing here? I didn’t have issues. I was just a slut.

‘I…a friend sent me here. I…’ I paused again. I didn’t know where to begin.

‘I know who sent you,’ she said. ‘He said you might call.’

‘He did?’

‘Yes, but please don’t worry. Everything said here is in the strictest confidence.’

‘I don’t know where to start,’ I said. ‘I…’

Valentina didn’t speak for a moment, just sat looking at me. When I said nothing more, she smiled again. ‘Why don’t we start at the beginning?’ she said.

By the end of the session, I had a lot to think about.

It’d taken over an hour before the subject of my fantasies had even come up. When I finally mentioned them, I’d looked at her, waiting for a reaction.

She hadn’t reacted at all at first, then she’d given a brief laugh and said, ‘But, of course. Why else would you be here?’

‘You mean, you knew?’

‘But yes,’ she’d said. ‘The women he sends always have these problems. That’s what he pays me for. To try to help them.’

I sat quietly for a few moments, digesting this new information. I didn’t know if that made him better or worse. Any thoughts I’d dared entertain about me being special in any way were way off the mark, anyhow. I was just another sex-crazed nut job to him, clearly.

I said as much to Valentina, who laughed again. ‘My dear, nobody’s saying any such thing. If you walked down the street outside, you’d pass at least a hundred women who have just the same fantasies. I guarantee it.’

I nodded, relieved she thought I was normal.

But then, she continued. ‘Of course, most women wouldn’t dream of acting on them. They use them to explore the darker side of their sexuality safely, and in a controlled way.’

I nodded, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks. She did think I was a sex-crazed nut job, then.

‘That’s why our friend has sent you to me,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘He’s worried you’re going to end up doing something you’ll regret.’

‘I know I might regret it,’ I said. ‘I just can’t seem to help myself.’

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Now let’s talk a little about why that might be.’

I had a lot to think about by the time I finally left.

As I hurried down the steps and out into the bustle of Beaufort Street, I looked at my watch. I’d been in there a good two hours. The secretary was long gone, and the rest of the office shut up. I couldn’t help thinking that he must’ve paid her well.