‘It’s for your own good. The way you’ve been acting, running all over the country in the snow, looking for some twat who didn’t give a damn about you – Suzi, it’s madness. When you have time to think, you’ll see how good you have it here. I love you. I’ll take care of you – you never need to work again.’

The next time, I just cried. Big snotty sobs. ‘Please let me out. Please, I won’t tell anyone. I admit what I did was bad. I’ll even go to therapy if you want.’

He looked sad too. ‘We’re past that now. This is the only way.’ He was solicitous. He would ask which meals I preferred, if I liked white bread or brown, consult me on how to make certain dishes.

‘Just let me out,’ was all I said at first, but gradually I gave in. If I was going to be stuck down here, I might as well eat things I liked. This was how you got used to any horror. The terrible adaptability of human minds. If it weren’t for the lack of windows and a shower, I could have been resting in a nice hotel, with books and soft furnishings. Just nothing I could use to get a message out. ‘It’ll be good for you, less phone time,’ he said, as if I was a child.

I protested about the shower. ‘You have to let me wash. I could get sick.’

I could see him pursing his lips. My plan was, if he let me upstairs to the bathroom, I would grab something – one of my kitchen knives, or maybe a heavy ornament – and I would hit or stab him, and I would run out of this house and on to the desolate road, and I’d keep running until I found someone who would help me. It might not have been a good plan, but it was the only one I had.

Eleanor

Eleanor