FORBIDDEN PLACE 5

TONY LED KAREN up the meandering, holly-hock-bordered path to a house not far from his own. The whitewashed walls were dappled with ochre lichen and cushiony green moss. He produced a key and opened the oak front door, standing back with a flourish so she might enter.

‘Voila, madame! Your very own country retreat.’

‘The marquis has given this to me?’ It was more than she had expected.

‘Not exactly, dear. It’s a tied cottage. Part of your wages. If you stop working for him you're out, lock, stock and barrel. Nothing is for nothing. These were designed especially to quarter the lord of the manor’s peons — field hands, groundsmen and foresters. Slavery wasn’t invented by the Americans.’

It was a carbon copy of Tony’s cottage. A basic one up, one down, with the later addition of a kitchen and bathroom built on at the back.

‘There’s not much room.’ Karen humped her holdall up the stairs and set it down on the patchwork quilt spread over the double bed.

Tony followed her, a suitcase i