’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. She was nude and horribly maimed. Where else could she go?’ ‘And there aren’t too many of them around,’ agreed Hilary on a gloomy note. “Go it, miss!” cried one. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate.
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