Suddenly he knew he couldn’t stay in that room. He might do something dreadful, beat her up perhaps or even kill her. And much as he wanted to be rid of her, spend no more time with her, no more money on her, the notion of killing her was as absurd as it was grotesque. It was unthinkable. But he couldn’t stay here.

He got up and put on his dressing gown. He’d go to that lounge where she’d watched television, take a blanket and spend the rest of the night there. She wouldn’t wake till nine and by then he’d be back, ready to dress for that wedding. Funny, really, their going to a wedding, to watch someone else getting into the same boat. But it wouldn’t be the same boat, for if office gossip was to be relied on, Sir William’s daughter had already opened her warm arms to many men . . .

The cathedral clock struck one. By nine the room would be icy and they’d need that gas fire. Why not put a five pence piece in the meter now, so that the fire would work when he wanted it?

The fire itself lay in shadow, but the meter was clearly illuminated by the street lamp. James knelt down, recalling the instructions of the manageress. Better try it out first before he put his coin in, his only five pence coin. Strange, that. He could have sworn he’d had two when he first went to bed. What had she said? Turn the lever to the left, insert the coin, turn it to the right until you hear the coin fall. Keeping hold of his coin – he didn’t want to waste it if what Nina said was true and nothing worked in this place – he turned the lever to the left, then to the right as far as it would go.

A coin fell with a small dull clang and the red marker moved along the gauge to register payment. Good. He was glad he hadn’t wasted his money. The previous guest must have put one in and failed to turn the lever far enough.

James checked that the window was shut to keep out the cold, gave a last look at the sleeping woman and went out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Almost Human

THE CHIEF WAS stretched out on the settee, half-asleep. Monty sat opposite him, bolt upright in his chair. Neither of them moved as Dick helped himself to gin and water. They didn’t care for strong drink, the Chief not even for the smell of it, though it wasn’t his way to show his feelings. Monty would sometimes drink beer in the George Tavern with Dick. It was cigarette smoke that upset him, and now as he caught a whiff from Dick’s Capstan, he sneezed.

‘Bless you,’ said Dick.

Better smoke the rest of it in the kitchen while he was getting their supper. It wasn’t fair on Monty to start him coughing at his age, bring on his bronchitis maybe. There was nothing Dick wouldn’t have done for Monty’s comfort, but when he had taken the steak out of the fridge and gone once more into the sitting room for his drink, it was the Chief he addressed. Monty was his friend and the best company in the world. You couldn’t look on the Chief in that light, but more as a boss to be respected and deferred to.