And then she fell silent, as though her explanation was sufficient in itself.

Fairfax smiled. ‘I’ve never – I’ve never heard of anything like that.’

‘No, it’s rare. The Delirium of Negation—’

‘And you expect me to believe—’

‘Yes, I do!’

She turned back to look at Fairfax. Her voice took on a brittle, angry tone. ‘I am saying that it’s true. And therefore—’

‘It is true?’

‘I am the only competent witness of these events. No one else. No one!’

Her raised voice echoed slightly in the room.

Fairfax nodded. He shuffled through some papers on the desk, without aim.

Hobbes watched carefully. Maybe it was time to go in.

But Camilla took charge of the story again. ‘There was a hidden room in that house, in Bridlemere. I didn’t know it at the time, but now I do. The inside of Adeline’s head was off limits, sealed up, locked from the inside. No doors. No windows.’

Fairfax said the strangest thing: ‘Was there a light? Was there a light in the hidden room?’

Camilla looked at him curiously. ‘Yes. Yes, a tiny one, a candle. A lick of flame but enough to see by … not, sadly, enough to live by.’

And her face changed then: it softened slightly.

The most important line of the drama had been spoken.

Fairfax had turned the key in the lock.

And Camilla sat upright in her chair. She spoke clearly. ‘Rosamund came to visit. She was alone. I don’t know what brought it on, this desire, but she wanted to see Adeline. I was surprised. Adeline opened the door for her. Of course, Rosamund was shocked by what she saw. Very much so. She demanded that Adeline be brought back to life.’

‘Brought back to life?’

‘Rosamund likened Adeline to a corpse, someone wasting away. Closer to death, than life. Oh, she called her many things. And she blamed me entirely for this.’

Fairfax nodded, giving nothing away. ‘Carry on. How did you respond?’

‘I told her to leave, of course.’

‘Did she obey you?’

Camilla nodded. ‘She left. And that night I saw blood on Adeline’s dress again, at the stomach. Another cut. I couldn’t stop her doing it. Deeper this time.’

‘What was she trying to do?’

‘She told me once that – that this one spot …’ – again, Camilla touched the area on her midriff – ‘… this was the only part of her body where she could feel anything, any kind of pain or pleasure. That everywhere else was dead, or dying or – or rotting away … Oh, God, I don’t know how to say it …’

‘You’re doing well.’

‘But that tiny part of her stomach, it had to be torn at, probed, sliced open to make her believe that she still had blood within her, or warmth, the force of life.’

Camilla stopped. She gulped for air. Her face looked ghastly, stark white and drawn at the eyes. She was taking on Adeline’s symptoms as she spoke of them.