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down the steps towards the street, her heels noisy on the concrete, her sobbing uncontrol able.
    In the car on the way back, the crying had gradual y given way to a seething fury which exploded in fitful bursts of abuse. He kept his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel as she rained blows down on his shoulder and arm. His eyes never left the road as she screamed words at him that he'd never heard her utter before. He drove careful y, with the same u tion he always showed, and as he manoeuvred the car through the lunchti.me traffic on the icy streets, he absorbed as much of her pain and rage as he could take.
    They sat in the car, both too shattered to open a door. Staring straight ahead, afraid to so much as look towards the house. The house, which was now simply the place where, the night before, she had told him what had happened. The col ection of rooms through which they'd staggered and
    shouted and wept. The place where everything had changed.
    The home they'd never feel comfortable in again.
    Without turning her head, she spat words at him. 'Why didn't you make me go to the police station last night? Why did you let me wait?'
    The engine was turned off the car was stil , but his hands would not leave the steering wheel. His leather driving gloves creaked as he grasped it even tighter. "You wouldn't listen, you wouldn't listen to senJe:
    "What do you expect? Christ, I didn't even know my own name. I had no idea what I was fucking doing. I would never have had the shower...'
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    She'd been too upset to think clearly, of course. He'd tried to explain al this to the WPC that morning, but she'd just shrugged and looked at her col eague and carried on taking the clothes and putting them into a plastic bag 'as they were taken off and handed over.
    'You shouldn't have had a shower, love,' the WPC said. 'That was a bit sil y. You should have come straight in, last night, as soon as it had happened...'
    The engine had been off for no more than a minute, but already it was freezing inside the car. The tears felt warm as they inched slowly down his face, running into his moustache. 'You said you'd wanted to wash ... to wash him off you. I said I understood but I told you you shouldn't have. That it wasn't a good idea. You weren't listening to me...'
    Standing there in the lounge after she'd told him. The horrible minutes and hours after she'd described what had been done to her. She wouldn't let him do a lot of things. She wouldn't let him hold her. She wouldn't let him ring anybody. She wouldn't let him go round to the bastard's house to kick what little he had between his legs into a bloody mush and punch him into the middle of next week. '
    He looked at his watch. He wondered if the police would pick Franklin up at work or later on at his house...
    He needed to cal the office and tel them he wouldn't be in. He needed to cal the school to check that everything was OK, that the previous night's explanations for why Mummy was so upset had been believed...
    'What did that woman mean?' she said, suddenly. 'That WPC? When she asked if I always wore a dress that nice to go to work?' She slid her hands beneath her legs and began to rock gently in her seat.
    Snow was starting to fal quite heavily, building up quickly on the bonnet and windscreen. He didn't bother to turn on the wipers.
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    THREE
    Later, when they talked about it, both Thorne and Hol and admitted to fancying the Deputy Governor of Derby Prison. What neithe of them quite got round to admitting was that, attractive as she undoub,t edly was, they actual y fancied her more because she was a prison governor.
    They didn't real y go into it al that much...
    'He's certainly made a very good job of it.' Tracy Lenahan put down the letter, actual y a photocopy of one of twenty-odd letters written to Douglas Remfry during his last three months inside, plus a couple to his home address after he'd been released. The letters that Hol and had found under Remfry's