“I’ve come to ask you some questions,” said Robin quietly. “About a woman called Margot Bamborough.”

He gaped at her, open-mouthed. Could he hear her? Could he understand? There was no hearing aid in either of his overlarge ears. The loudest noise in the room was the thumping of Robin’s heart.

“Do you remember Margot Bamborough?” she asked.

To her surprise, Ricci made his low moan. Did that mean yes or no?

“You do?” said Robin.

He moaned again.

“She disappeared. D’you know—?”

Footsteps were coming along the corridor outside. Robin got up hastily and smoothed away the impression she’d left on the bedspread.

Please God, don’t let them be coming in here.

But God, it seemed, wasn’t listening to Robin Ellacott. The footsteps grew louder, and then the door opened to reveal a very tall man whose face was pitted with acne scars and whose knobbly bald head looked, as Barclay had said, as though something heavy had been dropped on it: Luca Ricci.

“Who’re you?” he said. His voice, which was far softer and higher than she’d imagined, made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. For a second or two, Robin’s terror threatened to derail her carefully worked out contingency plan. The very worst she’d expected to have to deal with was a nurse. None of the Riccis should have been here; it wasn’t Sunday. And of all the Riccis she would have wanted to meet, Luca was the last.

“You his relative?” Robin asked in her North London accent. “Oh, fank Gawd! He was making a weird moaning noise. I’ve just been visiting my gran, I fort he was ill or somefing.”

Still standing in the doorway, Luca looked Robin up and down.

“He doesthn’t mean anything by it,” said Luca, who had a lisp. “He moanth a bit, but it don’t mean nothing, do it, eh, Dad?” he said loudly to the old man, who merely blinked at his eldest son.

Luca laughed.

“What’th your name?” he asked Robin.

“Vanessa,” she said promptly. “Vanessa Jones.”

She took half a step forwards, hoping he’d move aside, but he remained planted exactly where he was, though smiling a little more widely. She knew he’d understood that she wanted to leave, but couldn’t tell whether his evident determination to keep her inside was done for the simple pleasure of keeping her momentarily trapped, or because he hadn’t believed her reason for being in his father’s room. Robin could feel sweat under her armpits and over her scalp, and hoped to God that her hair chalk wouldn’t come off.

“Never theen you around here before,” said Luca.

“No, it’s my first time,” said Robin, forcing herself to smile. “They look after ’em well, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Luca, “not bad. I usually come Thundayth, but we’re off to Florida tomorrow. Gonna mith hith birthday. Not that he knowth it’th hith birthday—do you, eh?” he said, addressing his father, whose mouth continued to hang open, his eyes fixed vacantly on his son.

Luca took a small wrapped package from under his jacket, leaned over to the chest of drawers and laid it on top without moving his large feet so much as an inch.

“Aw, that’s nice,” said Robin.

She could feel the sweat on her breastbone now, where it would be visible to Luca. The room was as warm as a greenhouse. Even had she not known who Luca was, she’d have known what he was. She could feel the potential for violence coming off him like radiation. It was in the greedy smile he was giving her, in the way he was now leaning up against the door jamb, reveling in the silent exercise of power.

“It’th only chocolateth,” said Luca. “Who’th your granny?”

“Great-granny, really, but I call her ‘Gran,’” Robin said, playing for time, trying to remember any of the names she’d passed on the way to Ricci’s room. “Sadie.”

“Where’th she?”

“Couple of rooms that way,” said Robin, pointing left. She hoped he couldn’t hear how dry her mouth was. “Promised my mum I’d pop in and visit her while she’s on holiday.”

“Yeah?” said Luca. “Where’th your Mum gone?”

“Florence,” Robin invented wildly. “Art galleries.”

“Yeah?” said Luca again. “Our family’th from Napleth, originally. Innit, Dad?” he called over Robin’s head at the gaping old man, before looking Robin up and down again. “Know what my old man uthed to be?”

“No,” said Robin, trying to maintain her smile.

“He owned thtrip clubth,” said Luca Ricci. “Back in the old dayth, he’d’ve had your pantieth right off you.”

She tried to laugh, but couldn’t, and saw that Luca was delighted to see her discomfort.

“Oh yeah. Girl like you? He’d’ve offered you a hothtess job. It wath good money, too, even if you did have to blow thome of Dad’th mateth, hahaha.”

His laugh was as high-pitched as a woman’s. Robin couldn’t join in. She was remembering Kara Wolfson.

“Well,” she said, feeling the sweat trickling down her neck, “I really need—”

“Don’t worry,” said Luca, smiling, still standing firmly between her and the door, “I’m not in that game.”

“What do you do?” asked Robin, who’d been on the verge of asking him to move aside, but lost her nerve.

“I’m in inthuranthe,” said Luca, smiling broadly. “What about you?”

“Nursery nurse,” said Robin, taking the idea from the children’s daubs on the wardrobe door.

“Yeah? Like kidth, do you?”

“I love them,” said Robin.

“Yeah,” said Luca. “Me too. I got thix.”

“Wow,” said Robin. “Six!”

“Yeah. And I’m not like him,” said Luca, looking over Robin’s head again, at his gaping father. “He wathn’t interethted in uth until we were grown up. I like the littl’unth.”

“Oh, me too,” said Robin fervently.

“You needed to get knocked down by a car to get hith attention, when we were kidth,” said Luca. “Happened to my brother Marco, when he wath twelve.”

“Oh no,” said Robin politely.

He was playing with her, demanding that she give him appropriate responses, while both of them were equally aware that she was too scared to ask him to move aside, afraid of what he might do. Now he smiled at her feigned concern for his brother Marco’s long-ago car accident.

“Yeah, Dad thtayed at the hothpital with Marco for three weekth tholid, till Marco wath out of danger,” said Luca. “At leatht, I think it wath Marco he wath thtaying for. Might’ve been the nurtheth. In the old dayth,” said Luca, looking Robin up and down again, “they wore black thtockingth.”

Robin could hear footsteps again, and this time she prayed, please be coming in here, and her prayer was answered. The door behind Luca opened, hitting him in the back. The flat-footed blonde nurse was back.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Ricci,” she said, as Luca stepped aside. “Oh,” she repeated, becoming aware of Robin’s presence.