Once she got to the bedside, it was suddenly as if Sandra didn’t know what to do. She clasped her hands together close to her chest, her body shakin... uncontrollably. She looked up to see me in the doorway. “You bastard!” she cried. “Have you hurt my baby?!” She lay down beside the girl, as if covering her naked body from my view. She reached for the girl’s wrists that lay stretched above her head, but saw that she was powerless to do anything about the handcuffs that held those wrists firmly to. The lilting music would take him down, relax him while he twirled and warmed the brandy glass between his palms. It was his favourite time of the week, and just for a moment Janet dared to look at the now empty chair that stared back at her from across the room. A memory of him, sitting there with his eyes closed, totally absorbed in the music came to her. She took a deep breath, flexed her fingers and began to play a piece by Debussy that she knew by heart. Perhaps that would get her into it. More

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