‘Have you heard of an opera singer called Joan Sutherland?’

Jane shook her head.

‘I was just listening to an interview with Pavarotti. You must have heard of him. When he was a young opera singer, he worked with Joan Sutherland and was amazed by the control she had with her diaphragm, which gave her the ability to hold notes perfectly.’

Jane was startled when Elliott placed his hand on her diaphragm.

‘Now, take a deep breath.’ He pressed firmly against her stomach. ‘OK, hold it tight. Then slowly release it. Let me feel my hand move. It’s the muscles in your lower stomach that should be controlling your breath.’

Far from feeling calmer, she almost felt like fainting.

‘I can’t do this,’ she said.

He spoke very softly. ‘Yes, you can. Now breathe in again.’

After a few moments, Jane began to relax. By the time he allowed her to shoot at the target, she had to admit she felt much steadier.

After she’d finished shooting, Elliott walked her back to her car and leaned on the door as she got in.

‘I can do these early morning sessions two mornings a week. Call me if you want to do it.’

He slammed her door shut and walked over to the garage entry gate so she could drive out. He didn’t look at her as she drove past.

Jane just had time to go to her health club in Fulham, have a shower and change into her work clothes. She’d begun to feel less angry about her interaction with Elliott, but she was still angry with Dabs for telling him about what had happened with the Sweeney. She used the health club’s payphone and called Dabs at his home, preferring not to make the call from the station in case anyone overheard. Her privacy had already been compromised enough.

‘Everything all right, Jane?’ Dabs asked.

‘Not really. I’ve just finished a session with Elliott, and I have to say that I find him quite difficult to deal with—’

Before she could continue, Dabs laughed.

‘Well, he is a bit of an oddball, but you couldn’t have a more professional instructor.’

‘I’m sure he is very professional, but my beef is that he knows about my situation at the Sweeney, and I just wish you hadn’t gossiped. I’m obviously very sensitive about what happened. If I thought that you were going to discuss my problems with a stranger . . . ’

‘Hey, hang on a second, Jane. All I said is what you told me – that you had a situation when you were with the Sweeney and you wanted to have some gun-handling experience. I’ve never discussed your personal life with him, and I’m just sorry if it’s not working out.’

‘OK, Dabs. Sorry if I jumped to conclusions,’ Jane said. ‘Look, I’m late. I’d better go.’

She put the phone down, feeling more confused than ever.

*