were angry marks on her throat.
'He hit you?'
'He slapped me. Then he grabbed my throat and pushed me against the wall.' She smiled.
'I kneed him in the nuts and managed to lock myself in the bathroom with my mobile. Told him I was calling the cops.'
'You didn't, did you?' asked Donovan.
Louise shook her head.
'Fat lot of use they'd be,' she said. She patted Kris's leg.
'I called Kris.' Louise smiled at Kris.
'Thanks for coming.'
'Don't be stupid.'
Louise wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, then held out her hand to Donovan.
'Nice to meet you, anyway.'
'Pleasure,' said Donovan, shaking her hand.
'Who is he, this guy who hit you?'
'A punter. Seemed okay when I first met him. Good tipper. Fun to talk to.'
'How did he find out where you lived?' asked Donovan.
'I didn't give him my address, if that's what you mean,' she said defensively.
'No, I didn't mean that,' said Donovan quickly.
'How did he find you?'
'He must have followed me back from the club. He used to send me flowers here. Letters. Teddy bears. Tonight was the first time he turned up on my doorstep.'
'Do you know where he lives?'
Louise nodded.
'He wrote his address on the letters.' She sniffed.
'Kept saying he wanted me to live with him.'
Kris sighed and shook her head.
'What is it with twats like that? They think they can walk into a lap-dancing club and meet the woman of their dreams. What do they think we're doing there? Biding time until we meet our prince? Fuck that. Frogs is all we get.' The two girls laughed and hugged each other. Louise pointed at Donovan, still laughing. Kris realised what she meant.
'Present company excepted, of course,' she added. That set them off again, giggling and hugging each other.
Donovan sat with an amused smile on his face until the girls stopped laughing. They were both pretty and he could imagine them making a good living from the clubs. Louise was wearing a Gap sweatshirt and baggy jeans but her figure was clearly as impressive as Kris's full breasts, long legs and a trim waist. Both girls had bright red nail varnish on their fingernails, but whereas Kris had full make-up, Louise had no lipstick or mascara. She looked as if she'd just got out of bed; totally natural, and even with the tearful eyes, thought Donovan, drop-dead gorgeous.
'Can I see the letters?' Donovan asked Louise.
She frowned at him, lowering her chin so that she was looking at him through her dark fringe, like a shy schoolgirl.
'Why?'
'Just want to see what sort of nutter you're dealing with,' said Donovan.
'Thing is, if he's not told the error of his ways, he might come back. And next time you might not get the chance to lock yourself in the bathroom.'
'I don't know .. .' said Louise hesitantly.
'Let him help,' said Kris.
Louise stood up and went over to a sideboard. She took out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Donovan. He flicked through them as Louise sat down next to Kris and sipped her tea. The letters were handwritten, a neat copperplate on good quality paper. A fountain pen rather than a ballpoint.
'How old is he, this guy?'
'Mid-forties, I guess.'
Donovan nodded. The content of the letters was at odds with the presentation. They sounded like the adolescent ramblings of a lovesick teenager rather than the thoughts of a middle-aged man: he wanted to take care of her, he hated the job she did, the life she had. He wanted to take care of her. Protect her. And he wanted her love and devotion. At the top of each letter was the man's address. A house in Netting Hill.
He'd signed the letters 'Nick'. With three kisses after it, the way a schoolgirl might sign a letter to a boy she had a crush on.
'What's his name?' asked Donovan.
'Nick Parker,' she replied.
'What does he do?' he asked.
'Stockbroker or something. A banker, maybe. To be honest, Den, I hardly listened to him. He was a punter. I danced for him, he tipped me and bought me drinks. I didn't lead him on.' She nodded at the letters.
'Not that way, anyway. I never led him to believe it was anything other than dancing. You know?'
Donovan handed the letters back to her.
'Yeah, I know.' Donovan gestured at some pieces of broken pottery under a bookcase by the window.
'Did he do that?'
Louise nodded.
'Broke a few things. I cleared up some.'
Donovan looked across at Kris.
'You've met this freak, yeah?'
'Yeah. Like Louise says, he seemed okay at first. Then he got a bit clingy. Glaring at anyone she talked to, bitching if she so much as looked at another punter while he was in the club.'
'Okay.' He finished his tea, then stood up.
'Do you want to give me a lift?' he asked Kris.
'Where to?'
Donovan gave her a tight smile. She knew where he wanted to go.
'Okay,' she said.
Nick Parker's house was a two-storey cottage in one of the prettier roads in Netting Hill. Expensive, thought Donovan, as he climbed out of Kris's MGB. Not as expensive as Donovan's own home in Kensington, but easily worth a million pounds.
Kris got out of the car and stood next to Donovan as he looked up at bedroom windows.
'What are you going to do, Den?' she asked.
'I'm going to teach him a lesson,' he said.
'And I'm here because .. . ?'
'Because I wouldn't want to teach the wrong guy a lesson,' said Donovan.
'I'm not sure about this,' she said hesitantly.
Donovan turned to look at her.
'Take it from me, if you let him get away with slapping a girl once, he'll keep on doing it.'
Kris frowned.
'That sounds like the voice of experience,' she said.
'My stepdad used to hit my mum. Way back when. I was too young to do anything at the time. I was only ten. By the time I was old enough to punch his lights out she was dead and I was in care.'
'God, he killed her?'
Donovan shook his head.
'Nah. Cancer. But even when she was sick, it didn't stop him pushing her around.' He looked back at the house.
'You've got to stand up to bullies, Kris.' He walked towards the front door. It was painted a rich dark green
