Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him.
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