‘Stop,’ Martin called, jamming his foot in the door just before Anouk could slam it in his face. ‘Don’t be scared; I’m not going to hurt you.’

He yanked the door open again. Anouk ducked, wrapped both arms around her head and stepped backwards until she knocked against the toilet. She sat on it.

‘You do remember who I am, don’t you?’

He put the key card into the breast pocket of his polo shirt and waited until Anouk’s breathing started to calm down. It took her a while to understand that he wasn’t going to touch her. When she felt brave enough to lower her elbows and look him straight in the eye he gave her a smile. Or at least he tried to pull the corners of his mouth into the appropriate position. Since he’d entered Hell’s Kitchen, his headaches had returned. A dull pressure behind the eyes that would soon turn into a tugging.

‘Watch me, I’m just going to stand here,’ he said, raising both hands. ‘May I ask a favour if I promise not to move and not come too close?’

No nod. No twitch of the eyebrows. No reaction. Anouk remained silent. And yet, in spite of the sick pallor in her face and terrified body language, Martin thought he could see signs of mental recovery in the girl.

Her gaze was no longer lifeless, but expectant, furtive. She didn’t let him out of her sight for a second, unlike yesterday when she’d spent most of the time looking straight through him. And there was further evidence that she’d managed to climb a few rungs of the ladder out of her emotional cellar: she was neither scratching nor sucking her thumb, even though she was in a high state of agitation.

Seeing the plasters with animal figures that held the white gauze bandages in position, Martin guessed that Elena’s assistant had changed the girl’s dressings.

‘Don’t worry, we don’t have to talk,’ he said in a reassuring tone.

If he was right he’d soon find out everything he wanted to know from her, without the traumatised girl having to open her mouth even once.

‘I only came to give you something I bet you’ve been missing for quite a while.’

He showed her the torch.

The effect was striking. Anouk reacted in a split second. She leaped up from the loo seat and grabbed Martin’s hand. She was about to snatch the torch from him, but he was too quick and pulled it away just in time.

‘You have to tell me the truth first,’ he demanded. He felt a lump in his throat, for his words stirred a memory of Timmy and how he used to blackmail him.

‘Can I go to tennis, Papa?’

‘You have to tidy your room first.’