At the end of September, Laurie learned what is was to hold a tiger by the tail.

The day started well. The weather was changing as September merged into October; the leaves on the oaks, chestnuts and ash trees in the gardens turning russet, gold and cinnamon. Laurie spent the morning with Brahms, walking, emptying the traps, cleaning, cooking and listening to music. It was all routine and satisfying enough for both of them. They talked, mostly about her and Amanda and sisterly rivalry. She tried to make him laugh with some of the high jinks they'd gotten up to as kids but the most he did was smile politely. Then one moment he was sitting there listening to her, the next he'd disappeared.

Laurie knew he'd gone behind the walls and she felt mildly irritated. It was like he just took off at inopportune moments when she was least expecting it, and the regularity and impulsiveness of it was starting to piss her off. She knew she should go read, or phone Amanda or paint her bloody toenails but today she was determined to find his lair.

Half an hour searching just about every nook and cranny downstairs found nothing. In frustration she stamped into the music room and hammered on the panelling.

"Brahms! I know you're in there."

She waited, her head cocked for any sound.

"At least have the courtesy to say 'I'll see you later'," she yelled. Then under her breath, "Goddamn you, Brahms."

It wasn't like her to feel so peeved. But she nursed the notion that he was using her; perhaps not consciously, but definitely taking her for granted. She knew he'd turn up in his own good time, and more often than not he'd approach her in that magnetic sexual way he had that drove her nuts with a desire that couldn't refuse him, and this made her feel ever increasingly like his plaything.

Laurie's temper had always been a slow burner. But it was nearing the time of her month and she felt on edge and grumpy. Calm down, she told herself. So, with that in mind, she sat and tried to read. It's always his way or the highway, she silently ranted. It's my own stupid fault. I'm too easy going. What the fuck am I doing here, really? Two demons pecked away in her head.

You're here because this is your life now.

I'm here because he wants me here.

You want him too.

He's a good fuck is all!

You care about him.

He doesn't care about me.

Do you want him to care?

Yes!

No!

"Fuck!" she grated throwing down the Kindle.

A drink might chill her out. She glanced outside. The sun was going down. Laurie pulled a bottle of claret from the wine rack and wound the corkscrew into the cork stopper. Halfway out the cork snapped below the glass rim of the bottle neck. "You piece of shit," she mouthed, chucking the corkscrew into the sink with a loud clatter. She sat down at the kitchen table and drummed her fingers on the wood. She thought of Brahms, a thing he'd done that morning. She'd been walking a little ahead of him in the grounds, kicking up fallen leaves and horse chestnuts when he'd come up behind her with a small posy of wild Maiden Pink tied with grass stems. The gravity with which he'd presented the flowers made her want to chuckle but she'd kept her face straight and accepted them with a kiss to his cheek, touched by his gesture.

Laurie glanced at the posy sitting on the kitchen windowsill in its little vase of water. She wondered how he'd known that the giving of flowers was something men had done for women since time immemorial. But then, Brahms must have seen his father do the same for his mom. The sadness she always felt for him welled up. She had no right to be such a nark. He didn't deserve it.

I'm gonna take a shower, she decided. Wash away my bad energy.

The light bulb moment came as Laurie was searching in her closet for something to wear. She pulled out her coral dress, and as she pulled it off the hanger the metal knocked against the back of the closet. It sounded hollow. She pushed the clothes aside and knocked gently on the wood. Running her fingers around the edges of the closet back panel, she found two small brass hinges. Oh, my God...this is how he moves around. She pushed at the thin panel and it gave slightly. Did he come into my room while... She remembered her missing dress and gold chain. Everything fell into place with a sick sinking in her guts. Quickly, she pulled on some jeans and a sweat shirt, then with only a moment's hesitation...she pushed her way through the back of the closet.

Dark and Dust. That's what she found. Slats of lath and plaster, wooden splintery floor boards, and a winding passageway that twisted and turned the length of the house. She saw gutted chimney breasts, the bricks half knocked down, and finally understood why the Heelshire's had closed up the fireplaces. Every so often a cleverly concealed crack would reveal a spy hole where he could see into the rooms. There was a system of pipes snaking up and around, and Laurie knew they were designed to carry the smallest sound for him to hear. This was how the Heelshires had allowed their son to spend most of his life, all his formative years, moving around behind the walls of the house, in and out of gullies and staircases formed from bricks and slats, creeping about like a ghoul!

Laurie stopped for a moment, overwhelmed. Tears pricked her eyes and common sense warred with the bonding she now had with this strange man. She knew she should turn tail and run. Run and never stop running. But something drove her on. She was a moth to his flame.

She could taste the dirt and dust in her mouth, and already her feet and hands were filthy. Old soot clung to the brick chimney breasts and cobwebs wafted overhead. She found a narrow corridor that led upwards via a series of stone steps. At the top there was a door. Slowly and silently, she pushed it open.