The two of them sighed a little more about the waywardness of men, and then shook hands, with an agreement to meet again and discuss Dog-Boys.

'What a waste,' he confided in me on our walk home. 'I could have used them. I could have bent them to my will. A Black is a Black, after all.'

I tottered beside him, an obedient puppet of a wife with stick-like limbs, listening to the buzz of his conversation as it ebbed and flowed about my ears. I swayed along the pavement, almost wishing I might faint. But my body did not grant me such a peaceful escape. I stumbled into the path of other walkers, and did not care how they gawped at me; each of their faces revealing terrible teeth; their hands sprouting rending claws. The streets I walked down were entirely populated with monsters: a h.e.l.l of ravening fangs, biting, tearing, devouring; scrambling over the backs of the weak, stamping those below into a mash of humanity, with no light in their eyes other than the beastly imperative: Destroy!

We arrived home at last; I barely knew how. Straight away I made an excuse about having to attend to the needs of nature and went to the privy. I bent over the stinking hole and voided my stomach until there was nothing left inside me. Then I washed my hands and dried them with extreme care.

Lizzie was in the kitchen, resting her enormous elbows on the table. I was never more grateful to see her. I sat down, very slowly, as though the chair were matchwood, or I were matchwood; I was not sure. I removed my hat and veil with great care and arranged them neatly upon the scrubbed board. My husband stood in the doorway, but did not enter.

'You will remain here, wife. I am going out,' he declared. 'To make better our investments.'

'Make sure you are not so over-invested you cannot stand,' remarked Lizzie. 'We must have our most excellent Master of Ceremonies for tonight's show.'

He stamped out of the house and slammed the door.

'I'll make tea,' said Lizzie and grunted to her feet, swaying her bulk across the floor. 'Looks like you could do with a cup. There's some in. I'd make the most of it.'

'Yes.'

My voice seemed very small, the room very large.

'You all right, Evie love?'

'I do not know. He took me out with him. He never takes me out with him. I was excited. I chose my favourite hat.' I fumbled with the feathers tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the bonnet lying before me. 'I cannot believe I thought hats were important.'

'Evie?'

'I have been sick. I am never taken ill.'

'Let's get you that tea. What has he done to you?'

I could hear far-off thunder in her voice.

'Nothing. He took me out: to a dog-fight.'

'Christ. If it was the one I think you mean-'

I found that my fingers had worried the c.o.c.kade into shreds. 'He made me watch. I shut my eyes. I could not shut my ears.'

'The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. How could he take you there? There's been talk of it for days.'

She placed a cup of dark liquid before me.

'Lizzie, I am scared.'

'I thought I could wait for our luck to turn around as it has before. Not this time. Lizzie has had enough,' she growled.

'What will you do?'

'I'm making plans. I've got this to live off.' She cupped a hand around one of the rolls of flab around her middle and jiggled it. 'I shan't fade away just yet.' She cupped a huge hand around my cheek. 'Now now, don't you fret for one moment. I'll not move a muscle till I see you fixed.'

'I won't hold you here.' I hoped I sounded braver than I felt.

'You have my promise. No, no tears. If you start now you won't stop. Save them for when you're good and safe. Oh, h.e.l.lo, Abel. The pot's not long brewed.'

She poured a cup for him and stirred in a hill of sugar.

'Come on, man, there's always plenty of room next to Lizzie.'

'I did not hear you come in,' I said, for lack of anything better.

'How he creeps about! Man or mouse?' said Lizzie in a good imitation of my husband's style. 'You don't mind me, do you, Abel?'

'You are a kind woman,' he said. 'You love Eve. That is sufficient reason for me to like you very much.'

I had never seen Lizzie so affected.

'You are a different man these days, aren't you?' She smiled at him. 'Anyhow, I have work to do if we are to eat well tonight. I am not prepared to starve just yet.'

She left, leaving Abel and me at the table. We sat in silence; one which was uncomfortable for me, but in which he seemed content. I could not rid my mind of what I had seen only a short while previously. Whatever I tried to think about in its place was swiftly overtaken by the sound of dogs, the baying of a mob, the excited shouts of my husband when he realised he had placed his money on the winner. I busied myself pouring more tea, adding sugar. It was stewed and bitter through the sweetness. If I could only break this silence then perhaps I could free myself; but the longer it continued, the less likely that seemed possible.

'Abel,' I blurted.

'Yes?'

'Please. Say something.'

He put his cup on the table.

'I would speak freely with you, Eve.'

'Do so, I beg you. I have never needed your words so much.'

'You are troubled,' he said. 'By your husband.'

'Yes. By what he thinks of me. Of us.'

'Ah, yes.' He raised an eyebrow. 'His crew of freaks, to do with as he pleases.'

The air hung between us, weightily.

'Abel, you are troubled also.'

'I am. There are things I would say to you. Ask you, even. But there are people in the house ...'

'George?'

'Indeed. He wishes us ill. You in particular.'

'I know. He has been talking to my husband. Lies.'

'George has said certain things to me.' He shifted uncomfortably on his chair. 'He wants you.'

'Me?'

'To possess you. To remove Mr Arroner and take you for himself.'

It shimmered before me: a tempting vision, free of my husband. But ... George? My fur stood on end.

'Never,' I declared. 'I know where my affections lie.'

'Eve,' he said, and I felt the weight of his hand travel up my arm and rest on my shoulder.

I leaned into the warmth and it flared into a heat that swept down my arm into my fingers. I surrendered to its wonderful comfort.

'Oh,' I said.

'Are you well?'

'Yes, oh yes! When you touch me it is like fire.'

'Am I to apologise?'

'Not at all. I forget how much pleasure I take from it. There is none other makes me so ...'

He removed his hand, slowly, placed it in his lap and stared at it.

'See now. I said I would not speak tonight, with others in the house. But I cannot hide what I feel for you.'

I nodded, breathless and blushing, and was grateful for my fur. Every hair on my body stood on end, p.r.i.c.ked and alert for what might come next. I tugged at my moustache. I took the deepest breath of my life.

'Abel, I have secrets also. I am making plans to leave.'

'You are?'

His eyes were lit with the brightest fire I had ever seen in them.

'After what I have been forced to witness, my mind is made up. There is no longer any safety with Mr Arroner.'

'No, there is not.'

'So, I shall go.' I waved my hand; I tried to make it a courageous gesture, but my arm seemed exceedingly heavy. 'I have money put by. I have my skill of palm-reading. Even my strangeness will keep bread on my plate, and I would rather eat crusts from a plate of my own than roast beef from one of his.'

My breath wheezed, my chest tight with the spilling out of my heart's truth.

'Yes,' he replied simply.

I smiled at him, and he looked at me as though we were seeing each other clearly for the first time. He smiled in return, and I bathed in its simple warmth; I felt myself washed clean. He opened his mouth to say more when the outer door slammed, speaking noisily of my husband's return.

'Where are you?' he roared.

I sprang to my feet, racing upstairs to meet him in the hallway, fired with a conviction that he must not find me alone with Abel.

'Dear husband!' I said, spreading wooden arms.

'Yes, yes, very well,' he muttered, shoving me aside. 'George!' he bawled. 'Where in h.e.l.l are you? Where is Abel? I have plans.'

He tapped his temple with a broad forefinger.

'A new show in town? We'll see about that. It's all up here,' he said, leaning so close the spirits on his breath were unmistakable. 'I'm not finished yet. Not Josiah Arroner, Esquire. Plenty of fight left in me.'

He pushed me aside and yelled down the steps to the cellar.

'I said: Get up here!'

There was the sound of thumping and George appeared, rubbing his face awake, Abel behind him.

'Where's the bleeding fire?' yawned George. 'I was asleep.'

'Sleeping off my food and drink?' he grunted. 'Into the showing-room with the two of you.' He pointed at me. 'You, Mrs Arroner. Downstairs and get a meat-skewer from the kitchen. If you please.'

'Is there such a hurry, dearest?'

'There is, wife, when I say there is.'

It took me long minutes to search through the drawers, now emptied of their valuables. I did not know why I was filled with such a sense of foreboding, but it seemed important for me to hurry. At last I found a skewer fallen down the side of the range, clearly overlooked by the last maid, and dashed back to the displaying-room. Abel was tied to the velvet chair, ankles strapped to the legs, arms twisted back and roped together.

'Ah,' purred my husband, s.n.a.t.c.hing the spike from my hand. 'You are in time.' I wondered if he meant to draw out another chair and fasten me to it. 'We have managed without you, as you may observe.'

'My dear husband, why do you need to restrain him so?'

He rubbed his hands together. 'It is all part of the new act I have devised. I am still the guiding genius of this company. I'll show them. Think they can put me out of business? Me? Josiah Arroner? We shall be rich again. Abel doesn't mind. Do you, Abel?'

'It is an act,' said Abel, looking at me calmly.

I crossed the carpet, moving as swiftly as I dared without it seeming as though I was hastening to Abel's side. He was stripped to his under-britches. I had never seen him so exposed: for his turn in the show he only ever removed his shirt. His legs and toes were seeded with fine black hair; a dark mat covered the palm-span between his navel and the waistband of his under-garment; he sported a bear-lick of fur in the groove between his nipples. My husband shook his head, and drops of sweat spattered Abel's naked chest.

'It's all very well Abel cutting himself. But they think it fakery. Clever, but a trick nonetheless. Now we shall let them satisfy their curiosity.'

He brandished the skewer, placed its point in the inkwell at the joint of Abel's collar-bones and pushed hard. George stepped round to the back of the chair.

'Well, d.a.m.n me.' He smirked. 'It's coming out the other side.'

I went also, but more slowly: indeed I was unsure that I truly wanted to see what I knew I would find. The skin on the nape of his neck was being pushed out into a small tent of flesh, as the metal nib probed for a way out. Then the skin opened. It did not tear: rather, it paused and then opened a polite gap just wide enough for the barb to pa.s.s through. I could not find enough breath; all the air had been stolen from the room.

'Is this how you preserve your investments?' I said lightly, as though I did not care if I had answer or not.

'I'll do what I please,' my husband panted. 'I'll do more. I'll show them what he's capable of. No-one knows but me. We'll have wagers placed upon him. How deep can he be cut? Gentlemen, place your bets! We'll provide knives for hire. The deeper the cut, the higher the price. And the house wins, every time.'