Dark Room

very fond of her.'

He raised an amused eyebrow. 'What did you read at Oxford? The classics?'

She nodded. 'And a complete waste of time they were, too, for someone who was only ever interested in photography. I can do crosswords and decipher the roots of words, but apart from that my education was wasted.'

'What is that?' He gave his beard a thoughtful scratch. 'A defense mechanism against anyone who thinks you're over-privileged?'

'Just habit,' she said dismissively. 'My father finds my qualifications rather more impressive than anyone else does.'

'I see.'

She doubted that very much. Adam's pride in his only daughter bordered on the obsessional, which was why there was so little love lost between any of the inhabitants of Hellingdon Hall. How much did this doctor know? she wondered. Had he met Adam? Did he understand the tyranny under which they lived?

'Look,' she said abruptly, 'why don't I make this easy for you. I mean, I know this routine by heart. How old were you when your mother died? Two. How old were you when Adam remarried? Seven. Did your stepmother resent you? I've no idea, I was too young to notice. Did you resent her? I've no idea, I was too young to know what resentment was. Have you any brothers or sisters? Two half brothers, Miles and Fergus. Do you resent them? No. Do they resent you? No. How old are they? Twenty-six and twenty-four. Are they married? No, they still live at home. Do you love your father? Yes. Does he love you? Yes.'

Protheroe's laugh, a great booming sound that would bring reluctant smiles whenever she heard it, bounced around the room. 'My God,' he said, 'what do you do for an encore? Bite psychiatrists' heads off? I came to find out if you were comfortable, Jinx. As far as possible, I would like your stay here to be a happy one.'

She lit another cigarette. He knew nothing. 'I'm sure it will be. Adam wouldn't pay four hundred pounds a day unless he'd checked you out very thoroughly.'

'You're the one who'll be calling the shots, not your father.'

She flicked him a sideways glance. 'I wouldn't count on that if I were you,' she said quietly. 'Adam hasn't made his millions by sitting idly by while other people express themselves. He's a very manipulative man.'

Protheroe shrugged. 'He certainly seems to have your best interests at heart.'

She blew a smoke ring into the air. 'Show me his heart, Dr. Protheroe, and I might believe you.'

*4*

WEDNESDAY, 22ND JUNE, 53 LANSING ROAD, SALISBURY-8:05 p.m.

The young man was in no hurry to get up. He lay on the bed, his limbs sprawled in satiated contentment upon the rumpled bedclothes, watching the woman button her blouse in front of the mirror. Her reflected eyes stared warily back at him. Despite his airs and graces, and his liberal use of 'please' and 'thank you,' she knew exactly what she was dealing with here, and it terrified her. She'd seen every type there was to see-or thought she had-but this one was in a class of his own. This one was mad.

'You'll have to go now,' she said, trying to hide her nervousness. 'I've another customer due in a minute.'

'So? Tell him to go away. I'll pay you double.'

'I can't do that, love. He's a regular.'

'You're lying,' he said lazily.

'No, love, honestly.' She forced a smile to her sore lips. 'Look, I've really enjoyed this. It's years since I've come with a client. You wouldn't believe that, would you? A pro like me and it takes a man like you to give her something to remember.' She offered her raddled face to the mirror and applied eyeliner to her lids, watching him carefully while she did it. 'But it's a tough old world and I need my income just like any other girl. If I tell him to bugger off, he won't come again'-she gave a wretched giggle-'in every sense of the word. Know what I mean? So do us a favor, love, and leave me to my regular. He's not a patch on you, and that's God's honest truth, but he pays me weekly and he pays me handsome. Okay?'

'Did I really make you come?'

'Sure you did, love.'

'You fat slag,' he said, surging off the bed with terrifying speed and hooking his arm about her neck. 'It'd take a bloody bulldozer to make an impression on you.' He levered his arm closed. 'I hate slags who lie to me. Tell me you're a lying whore.'

But she'd been on the game long enough to learn that you never told psychopaths the truth. She reached for his penis instead and set about rearousing him, knowing that if she came out of this alive, she'd be lucky. So far, his only real pleasure had been to beat her about the face while he reached his climax, and she knew he was going to do it again.

As he twisted his hand in her hair and yanked her backwards onto the bed, she had time to reflect on the awful irony of it all. She was so used to servicing old and inadequate men that when the voice on the phone had translated itself into an Adonis at her door, she couldn't believe her luck. God, but she was a stupid bitch!

THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-8:20 P.M.

The phone rang beside Jinx's bed, setting her nerves jangling with its insistent summons to a world outside that she wasn't sure she was ready to face. She was tempted to leave it, until it occurred to her that it might be an internal call. If you don't answer it, said the voice of paranoia inside her head, then a little black mark will go down in a book somewhere and your mental equilibrium will be called into question. She lifted the receiver and held it against her ear on the pillow. 'Jinx Kingsley,' she said guardedly.

'Thank God,' said a man's voice. 'I've had the devil's own job trying to find you. It's Josh Hennessey. I finally