He helps her slide across to the sink. She lowers her head onto the cold steel sink as he runs the water. She wonders if she can swing round and slam his ribs, but her feet are bound and she won’t get anywhere by hopping. He keeps filling a glass beaker with warm water and pouring it over her head, washing away the blood. He uses an odourless hand soap to shampoo and massage her head. She winces at the sting from her cut.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Grace. I’ll patch that up for you in a moment.’

Archer’s skin crawls at his touch.

‘I remember that day I saw you at the Lumberyard Café on Seven Dials. Some of the others were there too. Elaine, Chau, Megan, but then you walked in. I couldn’t take my eyes—’

‘Where’s Jordan? What have you done to him?’

‘I shouldn’t worry about Jordan. Just relax, Grace.’

He eases her up and begins to gently towel dry her hair. Archer realises the tapping noise has stopped.

‘Serendipity. You were all there at the same time. Very clever of you to work it out. I sat at a discreet table and waited. I found some of you online and on social media and tracked you down through Jake and Mike Hamilton. Of course, stealing your phone was very helpful too. It was easy. So easy.’

‘Why me?’

‘It was meant to be, Grace. I’d bought the house in Roupell Street and met Jake a couple times during my visits. And then one day, through the veil of the previous occupant’s grubby net curtains, I saw you and Jake walk down the street. I was intrigued, but you were gone as fast as you appeared. The next time I saw you was that morning in the Lumberyard Café, but I hadn’t realised you were Jake’s granddaughter until Victoria and I saw you that night in Roupell Street. Funny how fate has a way of throwing people together. Wouldn’t you agree?’

He runs the top of his hand across her cheek.

‘You are the prize of my collection. Grace Archer. The girl who survived. Everything about you is perfect. Your sublime racial mix. Your history. Abandoned by your mother. Left by your dead father.’

Jamie’s words chill Archer. ‘Then let me go. Why kill me?’

‘Don’t think of it as death. Think of it as preservation. You will be forever here with me in my home.’

Archer’s stomach turns over. She needs to try something to buy some more time.

‘Why did you do it? Why kill those innocent people and exhibit their bodies in that way?’

‘Artists must always push boundaries, Grace. One should strive for greatness by inventing new ideas and expressing one’s art in a way that is representative of one’s character.’