“Yes, the Mother Superior said.”

  “Would you have a cup of tea?”

  Dolly was worried about leaving the rucksacks in the car. “No, really . . . I ought be going as soon as I’ve put these bits and pieces in the drill hall. But thank you so much for your help.”

  A look of real sadness spread over Mrs. Gregory’s face. Dolly realized how desperate for company she must be. The woman was probably her own age, and yet she seemed so old, so tired and worn.

  After a moment, she said, “Actually, a cup of tea would be very nice.”

  José entered the bedroom and shut the door quietly. The bathroom door was open and he could see Bella’s outline in the shower. She continued soaping herself, unaware of his presence. He turned away. Seeing the light on the side of the telephone was blinking, he picked it up as Bella stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round herself.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry.” He gestured that he was on the phone, then spoke rapidly in Spanish, or was it Portuguese? Bella could never understand.

  “Sim, sim, não obrigado, sim.”

  Replacing the phone, he looked at Bella. She gave him a half smile and walked back to the bathroom. Following her, José leaned against the bathroom door. The en suite bathroom was enormous, with a huge sunken bath, sauna, Jacuzzi, shower, and thick-piled carpet. Bella could feel his eyes on her as she studied her face in the mirror.

  “Everything all right?”

  He walked away from her into the bedroom. Bella knew something was wrong. She wrapped the towel tighter round her and followed him into the bedroom. He was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He nodded toward the phone.

  “That was my friend, from this morning, you remember? The police?”

  Bella bit her lip.

  “They found the taxi.”

  She swallowed, trying to keep her voice normal. “I’ll tell Linda when she wakes up.”

  José didn’t take his eyes off her, and Bella knew he was watching her every move. She sat on the stool in front of the dressing table, picked up a brush and looked at him in the mirror.

  Slowly, José continued to unbutton his shirt. “Leenda is sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “They have the taxi, but not the driver. He appears to be missing.” He stared hard at Bella and she met his eyes in the mirror. “But then, I don’t think you wanted him found, am I right?”

  Bella put down the hairbrush and turned to face him. “It’s not that. It’s just that I think Linda’s been through enough.” She stood up and moved sexily toward him, deciding to turn on the charm. “I’d like her to stay, but she won’t be persuaded. She wants to go back home, to see her mother.”

  José knew she was lying. He sat down on the bed and kicked off one of his shoes. She touched his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

  “Are you all right?”

  He kicked off the other shoe. “I’m fine.” He stood up and pulled down the zip of his trousers.

  Bella reached out a hand to touch him. He stepped back. Then he suddenly reached forward and pulled the towel away from her. She stood, naked, in front of him. He looked her up and down, examining every inch of her body with a cold expression. She put her hands over her breasts.

  “Don’t . . . don’t do that . . .”

  He flung the towel to the floor. “I wasn’t aware I was doing anything.” He stepped out of his trousers and folded them neatly, all the time watching her with that icy look in his eyes.

  She bent to pick up the towel and wrapped it round herself again.

  “Don’t you like me looking at you?” he sneered.

  Bella was starting to feel scared. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She moved closer to him. “You know I do. I love you, you know that.”

  Still he stared at her; his face was hard, not the gentle, loving José she knew.

  “Oh, you love me, do you? Because I’m rich?”

  Bella gave a short laugh. “No!”

  He reached for her left hand, the one with the diamond ring. “When are you coming back?”

  Bella took that as a cue. She wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled him toward the bed. “I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to leave you.”

  He allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed, and she lay on top of him, kissed his chest, his neck. “Mmm, I love you, I love every inch of you. I could eat you alive . . .”

  He lay unmoving, not responding to her.

  She leaned on an elbow and stared into his face. “I’m gonna make love to you, gonna give you something to remember me by while I’m gone.”

  Then she kissed him again, licking round his ear, nibbling the lobe. Slowly she moved her hand down his body. Suddenly he pushed her, hard, and she fell to the floor. He stood up and walked into the bathroom. Bella remained in a heap on the floor, a trembling hand held to her mouth. He came back, wrapping a dressing gown round him, looking at her as if she was filth.

  “Take your friend, your cases and get out tonight.”

  She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Has . . . Has Linda been talking about me?”

  “Please, just leave, both of you—and for God’s sake put something on.”

  Bella slowly picked herself up and wrapped the towel round her.

  “Is that all you’re going to say? Just like that?” She went to take his arm, but he jerked it away, still looking at her as if she was a piece of dirt.

  His voice was very quiet, and full of pain. “I wanted you for my wife.” For a moment his expression softened, and he looked almost bewildered. Then as quickly as it had gone, the hardness returned. “You . . . you don’t belong here anymore. I want you to go.”

  “What did she tell you?” Bella almost screamed, her pain making her voice sound angry and spiteful. “What did she tell you?”

  He said nothing, just looked at her with that stony gaze.

  She spat out, “I don’t belong to anyone!”

  He shrugged and walked into the bathroom. “Then you won’t mind leaving, will you?” he said over his shoulder, and closed the door in her face.

  Bella banged on the door. “Is that it? Is that all you’ve got to say?”

  His answer was the loud click of the key turning in the lock.

  Jimmy Glazier’s bathroom was very different from José Camarana’s—peeling paint, broken tiles, cracked loo seat, and a rusty shower with pink curtains half hanging off. Harry stood under the cold spray, having given up trying to get the water even a little warm. He swished the curtain back and it almost fell off its rail, as Jimmy banged on the door and pushed it open.

  “Right, my old son, one-a passaporta, an-a one-a ticket. Get a move on if you wanna make that plane!”

  Harry waved for him to pass a towel. Jimmy glanced admiringly at Harry’s physique. He was still fit and muscular—very different from the flabby, paunchy Jimmy. He handed Harry the towel, then looked away, a bit embarrassed.

  Harry wrapped the towel round his hips, picked up a razor and jerked his head toward the tub. “Ever taken a shower, Jimmy? Maybe ’bout time you tried one.”

  Jimmy laughed. “Eh, do me a favor, they got nasty little thingies in the water here.”

  Harry smiled and began to shave.

  Jimmy walked into the scruffy kitchen. Maria was ironing Harry’s suit with a sullen expression on her face. The magazine was gone. He went into Harry’s bedroom and started poking round. He was just about to have a look in the holdall when Harry came in behind him.

  “Where’s that magazine?” Jimmy asked.

  Harry smiled again. “I’m gonna need something to read on the plane, aren’t I?”

  Jimmy beamed. “So that means you’re interested, then?”

  Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Tell you what, get hold of Tesco and tell him to pick me up at the airport. See if he can find me a place to stay an’ all.”

  Jimmy couldn’t contain his excitement.

  “Right away, Harry. Anything you say, Harry.”

  “Good lad,” Harry said. “And tell that wife of yours to get a move on with the suit.”

  Jimmy scuttled off, almost bowing as he went. Maria was just putting the finishing touches to the suit when he went up behind her, put his arms round her and gave her a hug, singing, “We’re in the money, we’re in the money . . .”

  She turned round with a smile—the first Jimmy had seen in weeks—to put her arms around him and he squeezed her harder. This is more like it, he thought. Then he caught sight of the iron over her shoulder and smelt burning.

  “Christ almighty, you stupid bitch! Now look what you’ve done!”

  Dolly had to bend almost double to drag the rucksacks beneath the drill hall stage. The place was filthy with dust and grime, there were heaps of music stands, old curtains, bits of scenery, musical instruments, clowns’ costumes—anything and everything had been stashed beneath the stage for what looked like the last two hundred years. Dolly was covered in dust, two nails broken. She had just managed to push the third rucksack to the very back, and was heaping boxes and old curtains round it, when she heard the sound of clumping feet—not just one set of feet, but a whole horde of them—thudding across the stage above her head.

  She heard a voice say, “Right, everybody, come along now, line up. Quietly, please!”

  Oh, God, she thought. Now what?

  The scoutmaster bellowed and screamed orders as more feet thudded across the stage, and as every little foot banged down, showers of dust fell on Dolly’s head and all over her clothes, and she thought, Christ, how long am I going to have to stay here?

  Then a whistle blew, followed by a strange bellowing and screeching, as if a load of farm animals had just been let out onto the stage, and she realized what she was in for—a band rehearsal. Dolly remained crouched uncomfortably in the darkness as the boys struck up a discordant rendering of “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

  Bella marched into Linda’s room and banged the cases down. She ripped the bedclothes off and Linda shot up, a frightened look on her face.

  “Well, you won, Linda. Don’t know what you told him about me, but he’s kicking us out. So get up—now!” She picked something up from the table. “This your passport?”

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Linda was still dopey from sleep.

  Bella started searching through the drawers. “We’re leaving now, so get moving!” Bella put Linda’s passport in her own bag, along with the tickets, then flung open the fitted wardrobes, took out Linda’s case and began throwing clothes into it.

  Linda scrambled out of bed. “What’s happened, Bella?”

  “The police think they’ve found him.”

  Linda grabbed her arm. “Rawlins? They’ve got Rawlins?”

  Bella shrugged her off. “No, you idiot, the taxi driver. Now get dressed! The plane leaves in three-quarters of an hour; we’ll just make it if you bloody move yourself.”

  Linda stumbled round the room, not sure where to start, what to do next.

  Bella turned on her and grabbed her wrist viciously. “I tell you, Linda, if Harry Rawlins has laid so much as a finger on my money, I’ll kill ’im, so help me God I’ll kill ’im!”

  Linda whimpered. She’d never seen Bella so angry, her face contorted with rage. Bella let go of Linda’s wrist, picked up her two suitcases and kicked her way out of the door. As she bumped her way awkwardly down the stairs, José emerged from his room, dressed formally in an elegant suit.

  He leaned over the banister. “I’ve arranged for the car.”

  Bella didn’t even turn. “That won’t be necessary, I’ll call a taxi.”

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, José’s chauffeur opened the front door, and at a nod from José, picked up Bella’s cases. She turned and began to walk back up the stairs. Midway she stopped, twisting the diamond ring off her finger.

  Without looking at José, she said, “I almost forgot, you’ll want this back.”

  He walked down to meet her. “Keep it,” he said quietly.

  “Fair enough. I’m usually paid cash, but this will do nicely.” She brushed past him without meeting his eyes.

  Linda stood on the landing, clutching a beach bag bulging with clothes, along with a suitcase. Bella grabbed the case from her and started back down the stairs. Shaking, Linda held on to the banister. Linda gave José a weak smile, and he gave her his arm to help her down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Bella yanked Linda roughly out of his grasp.

  “We can manage, thank you!”

  Bella marched to the front door, with Linda in tow. Linda tried to speak to José over her shoulder.

  “Thank you for everything, you’ve been—”

  Bella turned and gave her an almighty shove from behind. “Just get out, Linda.”

  She pushed Linda on to the porch, then paused. She could feel José behind her, the force of his gaze. All of a sudden the anger seemed to drain out of her. She turned, tears in her eyes, wanting more than anything for him just to hold her one more time. For a moment she thought he would. He took a step forward. Bella moved toward him. And then he closed the door in her face.

  Dolly Rawlins glanced at her watch as she paced up and down the pavement. She had left several messages on Vic Morgan’s answering machine, asking him to be at the office by nine o’clock. It was now nine twenty. She could feel her blood pressure rising.

  A car pulled up outside his office building and Morgan got out.

  “You’re late, Mr. Morgan.”

  Morgan knew better than to reply, just walked ahead of her into the building and up the stairs. He could feel her fuming behind him as he fiddled with the lock on the door. Finally he opened it, and she marched past him into his office. Determined not to be intimidated, he paused to fiddle with the handle and push in the loose screw, before following her.

  Dolly placed a briefcase on his desk. “I want you to go to Australia House and get a visa for Trudie Nunn, and a baby. Make it out to be a big emergency. I’ve got two first class plane tickets, so she can have her kid next to her, and I want her on the first plane out of here. There’s ten thousand in cash and she is to go to the Hilton Hotel in Sydney. Are you listening, Mr. Morgan, I want that woman in Australia.”

  Morgan hung his coat on a peg. It promptly fell to the floor. He picked it up and replaced it carefully. “I’m listening, Mrs. Marsh, go to Australia House and take that case to Mrs. Nunn . . .”

  He looked her up and down. “You know you’ve got dust all down your back?”

  Dolly brushed at her coat and realized that her hands were still grimy from the drill hall.

  “I need you to do it straight away. I don’t have much time.” She watched Morgan walk round his desk, pick up his unopened mail and sit down. He seemed in no hurry whatsoever. “Mr. Morgan, I want that woman on that plane.”

  He looked at her. “Why don’t you just slow down a minute, Mrs. Marsh?”

  “I don’t have the time, Mr. Morgan,” Dolly snapped. “And I’m paying you by the hour, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Morgan began to rip open his letters. “I haven’t forgotten, Mrs. Marsh.” He eased his chair over to the computer, turned it on and began to type out a set of figures. “May I inquire what’s in the case?” he asked, without looking up from his typing.

  Dolly didn’t answer.

  He looked up at her. “You have a smudge here.” He pointed to his cheek.

  Dolly took out a handkerchief, spat on it and rubbed her cheek.

  Morgan continued to type for a moment. “Are you paying Mrs. Nunn off? Is that it?”

  Again Dolly ignored his question. She opened her handbag. “You’ll want another advance, I suppose?”

  Morgan pressed a key and waited. As the paper chugged out of the printer, he tore off a sheet and handed it to her. “If you could just pay me what I’m due?”

  Dolly glanced at the figures. “Fine. Now look, I want you to check her passport’s in order and take her to the airport. Just make sure that she gets on that plane. I’ll settle this when I—”

  “Now, if you don’t mind,” he said with a firmness she hadn’t heard in his voice before. “And that’s the last work I’ll be doing for you, Mrs. Marsh.”

  Dolly looked at him in surprise. He seemed deadly serious. Then slowly she started to smile. “Oh, I see. That’s how it is. How much do you want?”

  “It’s nothing to do with the money, Mrs. Marsh. I just don’t like being ordered about.”

  He looked serious, but Dolly was sure he was just using the fact that the clock was ticking to get a bigger fee.

  “All right, I’ll pay you fifteen pounds an hour.”

  He said nothing.

  Dolly tapped her fingers on the desk. “Twenty. Twenty pounds per hour, but that’s my final offer.”

  Morgan stood up, walked round the desk and picked up the briefcase.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Marsh. And if you haven’t got the cash to pay me now, you can send it on. And don’t forget these.” He handed her the plane tickets. “Good morning, Mrs. Marsh.” He gestured toward the door.

  Dolly remained seated. She really didn’t know what to do now.

  “Is that your final word?”

  “Like I say, Mrs. Marsh, I don’t mind doing the work, but I object to being treated like your skivvy.”

  Dolly picked up the case, walked to the door, and then turned back to him. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

  He shook his head. “That is immaterial, Mrs. Marsh. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  Dolly realized she’d misjudged him. Trying to bully him or offering more money wasn’t going to work. She need to change tack—and quickly.

  She dropped the case with a sob. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’m . . .” Another sob, louder this time. “. . . desperate.”

  He sighed. “You really want this Trudie girl out of your way, don’t you?”

  Quietly, almost in a whisper, Dolly said, “Yes, I do.”