But they were already running by then. Around corners, into shops, out again, through a whole maze of narrow streets. When they finally stopped, Mina could scarcely breathe, and Star was white to the lips.

“You saw him?” He caught hold of her arm. “Christ, they’re everywhere. Police, plainclothes police. In cars. On the street. He saw your hair—I saw him look at your hair. We have to get back. We have to change the way you look.”

He put his arms around her and hugged her tight. “Mina. If they catch us here, you know what they’ll do to me? They’ll put me in prison. They’ll lock me up.”

Mina tried to tell him that she wouldn’t let them do that; she’d explain that she’d chosen to come with him. But Star wasn’t listening. He raced her back to their attic room and then he made her dye her hair. He sat there in the corner of the room while she did it, he wouldn’t even let her use the bathroom, in case the dye left traces, and one of the other lodgers saw it and suspected. So she had to apply the dye with a basin while Star sat surrounded by all the red curls and tresses he’d cut off. They were on the table, on the floor, but he didn’t seem to see them. He was reading the tarot, slapping down the cards: the tower, the lovers, the hanged man, the queen of diamonds, the king of cups. His beautiful face darkened. Mina could tell he didn’t like what the cards told him, and the next thing she knew, he’d swept them all on the floor, then picked up the chair and thrown it across the room. It hit the wall, and smashed.

“Hurry up.” He threw himself down on the bed and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. His fists clenched and unclenched. “Dry your hair, Mina. Come here. Talk to me. Stroke my forehead.”

Mina did as she was bid. She crept up close to him and stroked his hair, then his face.

“Can’t you tell me what’s wrong, Star?” she said timidly.

“The cards were bad.” He reached up and grasped her hand. “I didn’t like the cards. Go on, Mina. You make me feel better. You’re the only one who can. You have the soothing gift. Stroke me very gently. Like that.”

Mina continued to do so. She felt proud, but also a little afraid of what Star might do next. She felt cold, with her still-damp hair, and she could see little rivulets of black dye dripping down onto her arms and her shirt.

After a while, a long while, she felt him tense, and she knew what was coming next. He gripped her wrist and opened his eyes, and stared at her, one long, unblinking stare. He looked into her and through her, his beautiful face set like a mask, not one muscle moving. Then he pulled her hand down, away from his forehead. He rested it on his chest, then moved it lower and pressed it against his crotch.