The tips of my ears burned with embarrassment. He was closing in on me as I pushed open the powder room door and tried to close it behind me. But he wedged his foot in it to keep it open. He put his hands on my shoulders and forced me backward into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. He began pulling at my dress, forcing the bodice down off my shoulders. He grabbed at my breasts and forced his mouth down on mine. He was pawing at me the way young lads had done back home in Kilcross. I tried to knee him in the groin as I had learned to do with them, but it only made him angrier. He let go of my breasts and reached his hand up my dress, his rough fingers poking at me, trying to drill inside me. I tried to push him off, but my strength was no match for his. I raised my hand to his cheek and dug in my nails, drawing blood from his temple to his jaw. He pulled back from me, his hand on his face, a wild look in his eyes.

“You little bitch!” he cried. “You’ll pay for that!”

I began to scream, and he lunged at me again. There was a sudden pounding on the door, and I screamed louder.

“Help me! Dear God, somebody help me!”

Sinclair growled like a rabid animal and started toward me again. “I know you want it. You’ve been making sheep’s eyes at me ever since we met. Come on, Selkie, let me give you what you’ve been asking for, I—”

I don’t know where I found the strength, but something in me snapped and I pushed him, hard, sending him reeling to the floor.

The door swung open and there stood Ben, a horrified look on his face. In one glance he took in my torn dress and Sinclair’s bleeding face.

“Get away from her now, Sinclair!” he shouted.

I stepped over Sinclair and made for the door, but before leaving, I turned back.

“My name is not fecking Selkie!” I shouted. “My name is Nora Sweeney!”

I pushed Ben aside and ran out of the powder room, down the marble hallway and outside into the freezing night air. I bent over to catch my breath, which was coming in spasms. My head spun and I thought I might collapse. And when I looked down at my tattered dress—my lovely dress—I began to sob.

Panic set in. How was I going to get back to Mrs. Shaw’s? I had no money, no transport. All I knew was that I had to get away from this place. In my dazed state, I kicked off my silver shoes with the shiny buckles and began to walk.