It’s dark, it’s damp and my feet are freezing. I’m sure that before long my toes will fall off. I’m sat on a concrete floor in a room that measures about twelve feet by ten. The walls are brick and the only door is a thick metal panel without any handle. There is a bucket by the door that I assume I am meant to use as a toilet. My arse is proving troublesome; it seems to absorb the cold from the concrete floor like a sponge. The chill revolves around my buttocks and then intermittently shoots up either side of my spine. I wish I wasn’t wearing the green cotton trouser suit that Grace gave me. The only warmth it gives is on the shoulders, where it is heavily padded. There is a tap mounted on one wall and in one corner is a plastic crate filled with sweet and savoury snack bars. A draught occasionally wafts into the room through an airbrick high up on the wall opposite me. A few shards of light shine through the brick but not enough to dissolve the darkness. If I had to guess, I would say I am in the basement of an empty detached Victorian house. I never sense any movement above, below or to either side of me. During the day I hear the constant rumble of traffic and the occasional police siren. Every now and then I shout at the top of my voice for someone to help me. They never come. This is no way to treat a lady.

Tommy brought me here about four hours ago. He grabbed me at Gary’s flat. I thought it was Grace knocking on the door or Gary returning early from the police station, but no, it was Tommy, and he was quietly furious. He instructed me to collect up my stuff and leave the flat with him. At first I refused but there was that familiar dead look to his eyes that meant there would be dire consequences if I failed to comply.

‘This is the second time you have done this to me. I made the mistake of forgiving you the first time,’ he said in a calm and measured tone. ‘But I guarantee it won’t ever happen again.’

‘What are you going to do? Kidnap me and lock me away until I beg for you to take me back?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, something like that, but I won’t ever be taking you back. Just get your stuff together and let’s go.’

Tommy leered over me from the bedroom entrance as I packed up my rucksack.

‘Where did you get that awful suit?’ he asked.

‘The nice lady next door gave it to me,’ I replied.

‘What, so you’re a beggar now, are you? It makes you look fake and unremarkable. You are unremarkable. I fucking hate you.’