When she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a big towel, there was a hairdryer on the dressing table and a pair of beige loafers on the floor beside the bed. From the pile of clothing she selected a too-big black bra and some practical unsexy Sloggi underpants, then sorted out a pale blue chambray shirt and a pair of Jack’s mother’s jeans to put on. They didn’t really fit – his mum had been a tall lady, that much was clear – but they were OK around the waist, so it was fine. She turned them up at the ankles by a couple of inches, scuffed on the loafers. They didn’t fit either, they were loose on the length and narrow through the instep. She went back to the bathroom and padded the toes out with toilet paper.

Better.

She picked up the ruins of her dress. It was thoroughly caked in blood, filthy with dirt. She remembered putting the thing on just weeks ago before everything had gone crazy. Remembered turning back and forth in front of her mirror in the gatehouse bedroom, admiring herself. She’d always done that, didn’t every woman?

But now she was afraid. If she saw her reflection and some monster was staring back at her, what the fuck would she do?

Freak out. She knew she would.

She went out into the kitchen. Jack was making tea, slipping bread into the toaster.

‘You want some?’ he said, turning and seeing her there.

Trix, laid out in front of the roaring fire, grinned a greeting at her.

He paused, taking in this new Belle in jeans and shirt. Belle turned her head away, hiding her cheek. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thanks. What should I do with this?’ She held up the ruined dress.

He put two more slices of bread in the toaster. ‘We can wash it.’

Belle shook her head. She’d be reminded of what happened, every time she wore the thing. ‘I don’t want to keep it.’

‘Then put it on the fire.’ He indicated the grate, where the flames were leaping up from the crackling logs.

Belle walked forward, patted Trix and threw the dress into the fire. She watched the expensive fabric curl and burn. It was like destroying her past, watching that. Saying goodbye to the old life and maybe allowing for a new.

Allowing for what though?

For being scarred? For being ugly? She felt a shiver of apprehension, despite the fire’s heat.

‘Tea?’ asked Jack.

Belle nodded and went to the table and sat down. Not too long ago, she’d been laid out on here with her life’s blood streaming out of her. But what now?

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ said Jack. ‘If there’s any danger they’re still after you, it’s probably safest. You’re not really fully recuperated yet, are you. Better to rest up. Get back to full strength.’