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then stood, taking a moment to steady herself. She walked slowly over to his chair. He sat very still, his hands resting on his knees. She knelt in front of him and laid her head down. He let his hand lie still and warm under her cheek and she felt happy.
    After a while, he lifted his other hand and placed it gently on her head. She kept very still. She’d washed her hair that morning, putting on loads of conditioner so that it was soft, like silk. He stroked it, from the top of her head into the base of her neck, and then right the way down to the ends. His hand stayed on the small of her back.
    She had to breathe, she took a deep lungful of air. She waited to see what would happen next. He didn’t push her away. Again, he stroked her hair from the top of her head to the base of her neck, down to the place between her shoulder blades. She felt his fingers exploring her spine, moving downand then back up again, tickling her neck, pushing up into her hair; pulling slightly.
    ‘You need someone to love you,’ he said. ‘You want to be close to me, but the only way you know how is like this. It’s not right. In the end you’ll be hurt.’
    ‘I don’t care. I want to.’
    ‘You’re too young.’
    ‘I know you want to touch me. I know you do. It’s not even my first time.’
    ‘Don’t talk like that.’
    But his hand pulled harder at her hair.
    She liked kneeling on the floor and resting her head against his knee. She didn’t try anything else, she knew she had better not push her luck. He let her stay there for a long time. She was tempted to reach up along his inner thigh, to trail her fingers along – just to see what would happen. But she didn’t. She waited. He might change his mind, he might make her leave. She knew he could get into bad trouble and she didn’t want that. He was the best doctor she’d ever had. She would never tell. But she wanted him to want her so badly that he would risk everything to touch her. And she could wait a little while longer.
    She felt his fingertips on her forehead. A slow, gentle touch. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, and down, to her lips. She wanted to open her mouth and lick him, taste him, bite him. She waited, patient. Her whole body tingled. She had to be very strict with herself, she made herself stay very still, she wouldn’t frighten him away. She wanted to open the buttons of his shirt and unzip his trousers. She was pleased about her self-control. She might be a lot younger, but she was the one in charge. His fingers lifted away from her face for a moment and her heart sank. But then hetouched her again. His hands were back in her hair now, his fingers a pressure on her scalp. He pushed them all the way along, twisting his fingers into her hair until he reached the nape of her neck. He stopped and held her there.
    She shivered.
    She wanted to reach for him so badly, to know if he was hard. But she didn’t. ‘Time’s up for today,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you same time next week.’
    She stood slowly. At the door, she turned back. ‘Thank you, doctor,’ she said, grinning.

Bayswater, April 2009
    Stella was lying in bed, half awake, when the mail thudded on to the coir mat at the front door. Her vision was still blurred as she peered at the small clock beside her bed: it was ten o’clock. She remembered she had a weekend of report writing ahead of her. The Smith report was due on Tuesday: three children, all under five, all in foster care, cocaine-addicted mother pregnant with the fourth. The local authority was paying extra to have the report done in half the time and of course she had said yes when Max asked her to take it on, even though she was already overloaded. She knew he was keen to have the double fee. And she liked to please him. She always said yes when he asked.
    She huddled under the duvet and pulled it up higher around her face. Her cotton pyjamas were crisp against her skin. A man would be nice, she thought. Any man would do. If she