Portia raised a hand to her hair, a surprised look flashing across her face as she smoothed a hand over her short bob. ‘I keep forgetting,’ she said, almost to herself. She met Allison’s gaze then with a faint smile. ‘As far away as I can get. I need my passport to do that.’

Allison frowned. This wasn’t in the script. It was too fast. If she handed over the passports, maybe the money would vanish as quickly as it had appeared. She didn’t seem to have been left with an option. Opening the door wider, she stood back. ‘You’d better come in.’

Jo was in the hallway behind. ‘I heard voices.’ She looked on in horror as Portia, a heavy suitcase dragging her down on one side, stepped into the hallway. ‘What the fuck is she doing here?’

‘She’s come for her passport. Seems they’re going away.’

Portia put the case down. ‘Not they… just me.’

When all three women started to speak together, Jo’s voice raucous, Portia’s a sad mewl, Allison’s demanding, she held a hand up to silence them all. ‘Let’s sit, then we can talk calmly.’ She led the way back to the dining room. ‘Sit,’ she said, waving Portia to a chair. Jo sat in the seat she’d been in earlier and folded her arms across her chest, Allison mirroring her stance on the other side of the table.

She held up a hand to stop anyone speaking. ‘Before we begin, I want to check that the money is still there.’ It was. She nodded in satisfaction and put the mobile down. ‘Looks like you have some explaining to do.’

‘Are you complaining?’

It was Jo who jumped in to reply. ‘Stop fucking with us, you nasty piece of work.’

‘Ah,’ Portia said, a smile curling her clownish lips. ‘Am I to understand you’re the friend who helped to rescue Allison?’

‘That’s it. I got her safely from your perverted clutches.’

‘You did well. I hope she knows how much she owes you. Once she was in that room, her fate was pretty much set in stone.’

The memory of waking in that bed, naked and helpless, sent a shiver through Allison. ‘Like all the women before me? How many were there?’

Portia shrugged. ‘A few.’

‘A few!’ Jo slammed both hands on the table and glared. ‘You don’t remember, do you? What a disgusting piece of work you are. Seriously, you’re depraved.’

Allison was trying to take it in. The money. Portia being there alone. ‘You’re leaving Stuart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ Portia laughed, a harsh, unmusical sound. ‘I wouldn’t mind a drop of that whisky.’

Jo raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Throw her out, Allison. We have the money; we don’t need this crap.’