The first third was a reception area separated from the rest of the hall by a frosted glass screen about ten feet high. In front of the screen facing the main entrance was a high desk about half the width of the hall, equipped with computer terminals like a hotel and with two smartly dressed female receptionists on duty. The only access to the rest of the house that Rachel could make out was by double doors in the screen on either side of the reception desk, but behind the screen she could see the upper flights of two broad staircases, each with a stairlift, leading to a glassed-in landing running round three sides of the hall.Angela started to explain the geography of the house to Rachel, “My Victorian ancestor who built this house was a cotton magnate who intended it to be a demonstration of his wealth and importance. He was also very pragmatic and constructed it on a north-south axis to make the most of the hours of daylight. There was a long gallery with large picture windows. I’m a pretty, sexy, sixteen-year-old. I’m even a virgin. I’m worth quite a bit. To you, in particular.”John smiled, not unpleasantly. He made a point of slowly raking his eyes up and down my body. “Being a virgin in this business is a liability. You’ll flake out.”“I won’t,” I said.“Prove it,” he said, with a smile and a glint in his eyes.We both knew what he meant. I’d like to say I felt fear or hesitation. I felt horny, instead. The fight for my house, bargaining, claiming my worth, even in material terms, made me strong. Being strong got me worked up.I reached back to unzip my mother’s dress. What I was about to do hit me like an electric shock. My mother did exactly this. She did it for nothing. I wanted revenge. I wanted Harold on his knees, wailing. Anger drove me as much as desire. I would do it, but for a damn site more than my mother ever did. I would enjoy it.My dress slipped off my shoulders and I pulled it down over my breasts. I had a moment of vertigo standing there in.
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