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ring!”
    “‘It’s for your own good. You’ll see. Now, remember where everything is. Here’s the bedpan and toilet roll on your right. Water and paper napkins behind your head. I’m taking the padlock off your hand now so you’ll manage better. Your coat’s here on your left. Get in your sleeping bag and lie still on your back until you calm down. Here, I’ve pulled the loose chain in for you. We’ll only chain your wrist to it at night and free it in the morning.”
    ‘Why? There was no night now except that it was always night. And what morning could there be—I remembered that morning, the bread crumbs, the bits of chicken.
    “‘Listen! Are you still there?” My voice roared in my head. I was a sea monster. “Please listen to rhe …” I told him. I knew I was like a child telling tales but I had to do it. He had to get rid of the chicken for me because I wouldn’t be able to find it now.
    “‘I’ve got to go. There’s a lot to do. The others’ll be back any minute—”
    “‘You’ve got to listen!” The others weren’t there! I had to make him help me. “In a bit of toilet paper somewhere on the right.”
    ‘He found it. I got in my sleeping bag and he put his face close to mine to tell me, “The tent has to be kept clean. It’s for your own good.” Everything here was for my own good. “Do you want rats coming in? Do you know what rats can do to you while you’re asleep? They pee on you because their pee is an anaesthetic. Then they can gnaw away at you without waking you up. I’ve seen them do it to horses, gnaw great lumps out of their legs. The tent has to be clean. And don’t worry about those two dickheads. They’re pissed off as hell because they should have brought us your daughter and there’s a row going on with the boss. They’ll calm down. Lie down until it’s time to eat.”
    ‘A rest before lunch. Rules of hygiene. For my own good.
    ‘I lay still but my burning face and the roaring pressure in my ears gave me no rest. The only distraction from the pain was the thought of Woodcutter’s admitting there had been a mistake, the thought of my Caterina’s being here in my place. It wasn’t a mistake in the way I had thought, a mistake about my financial condition. They had simply mistaken me for Caterina because she usually takes Tess round the block at night and we have the same long hair. And to think that for years Caterina had been trying to talk me into having mine cut. She was convinced it would suit me better and look more chic for someone my age. But I never could decide to do it. My hair’s been long since I was about fifteen. Now I was thankful I hadn’t done it. A twenty-year-old beautiful girl would hardly have been safe from their lust, which I could trust I was. Caterina had never formed a lasting relationship and, though she never talked about it, was probably still a virgin. An experience like this would destroy her future. She was so fragile. Any mother would rather suffer herself than have her child suffer. And I’ve always been strong. If it was possible to survive this experience I would survive it. Already I had discovered that keeping my head still, though it didn’t stop the roaring, reduced the pain. That was thanks to Woodcutter. I had also discovered that sometimes he was alone. I must try and work out their timetable. When he was alone I could try and talk to him. I would have to be careful not to ask questions. I must try and make him understand that I was not as rich as they must have thought but that whatever I had would be paid. I had fought all my adult life to make myself and my children safe from poverty and there was no safety. Now all I wanted was to live. I had to try and eat and I had to appear perfectly docile so as to convince them—or at least Woodcutter—to let me out of the tent for a short time each day to move my legs. I could try, if it was possible to keep my head still, to exercise my muscles while lying in the