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brooding. Ronnie was a wreck, taking all sorts of pills; some to help him sleep, others to keep him awake. Anti-depressants seemed to depress him more. Back on the road, he looked all over, but London seemed the obvious place; after all, it is the kingdom of the lost, isn’t it? A magnet to runaways.’ The question was rhetorical. ‘He booked into a cheap hotel around King’s Cross and just padded the streets for a full two months, looking hopefully into every female face he came across.’
    A wonder he didn’t get arrested
, I thought, facetiously.
    ‘He was in and out of pubs and clubs. He was becoming increasingly desperate and despairing; I could hear it in his voice. I begged him to come home.’
    ‘But he didn’t?’ I said, smoothing along the story.
    She lowered her head, took a handkerchief from her dress-pocket and dabbed her eyes. ‘He started touring escort agencies. I’m sure you know how it works with them. They had photo albums of girls on their books. He was hoping to God to see her face in one of the albums; praying to God he wouldn’t. His ambivalence must have stretched him as if fastened to a torture rack.’
    I really did feel for her having to relay all this to me, a total stranger. But she was strong. Her fragility was only physical.
    ‘He rang me one afternoon. “I’ve seen her!” he said. But there was no real excitement in his voice. What he meant was that he’d seen her photo in an escort agency.’
    ‘Which one?’ I said, now poised to make notes, notepad and pen at the ready.
    ‘Something with “Venus” in the title,’ she said, vaguely. ‘That’s all I can remember. It’s such a long time ago.’
    ‘That’ll do,’ I said. ‘I can work from that easily enough.’
    ‘I was bursting at the seams with questions: “Where is she? Where’ve you seen her? What’s she doing? Is she all right? How have you managed it?” That’s when he told me the circumstances .’
    ‘So they hadn’t actually met?’
    ‘No. She was on the agency’s books as “Lolita”,’ she recalled, grimacing. ‘The rest of the story is very awkward for me, but you’re a man of the world….’
    ‘I’ve been around several blocks a few times,’ I said, smiling, trying to make it easier for her.
    ‘Then you’ll know all about those agencies?’
    ‘Only too well.’
    ‘The office of the agency was run by a woman. She asked Ronnie if “Lolita” was the girl he “wanted”. Obviously, as I wasn’t there, I can’t recount exactly what was said, but apparently Ronnie indicated that “Lolita”, our Tina, was his selection. He was then asked where he wanted to meet her.’
    ‘What did he say to that?’
    ‘Well, he hadn’t given this sort of situation much thought. This was about the fifth escort agency he’d tried, I believe. He was just going through the motions. I don’t think he ever really imagined he’d find her along this route. So when he was asked where he hoped to meet her, he was rather stumped. Seeing that he was in a quandary, the woman asked him if he was staying in a hotel. When he said that he was …’ Now her voice fragmented and she angled her head away from me, averting her eyes. ‘I’m not sure that I can go on with this,’ she said, faltering. ‘I’m not even sure that I
want
to.’
    ‘Let me help you out,’ I said, anxious to prevent her drying up. ‘This woman said something to the effect that “Lolita” would be prepared to go to his hotel room.’
    Mrs Marlowe was sobbing quietly now, but she managed to reply with a nod, before saying, haltingly, ‘You can visualizehow shocked he was. Apparently he managed to hold himself together and probe a little.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Was she experienced; that sort of thing.’ Still she couldn’t look at me.
    ‘And what was the woman’s answer?’
    ‘That “Lolita” was one of the agency’s most booked girls; that meeting men in their hotel rooms was something she did most days of the week. The full