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"My God!" he repeated. "You've turned yourself into a whore."

"Monsieur!" Dominique was indignant. "Please be careful 'ow you address me. I am an escort."

Mark buried his face in his hands. "I knew this was a big mistake."

"I will go if you wish it, but you still 'ave to pay." She held out her hand. "You take my time and my trouble."

"This is idiotic! Absolutely insane! I refuse to play your game."

Dominique arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Game, monsieur? Of what game do you speak?"

"Dammit, Julia, enough's enough. I'm an MP and you're a perfectly respectable career woman. I don't get any kind of kick out of this sort of behaviour and I want you to drop it. Now!"

Dominique looked at him for a few moments, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. It was Julia who slowly sank down onto a chair.

"You're not even going to try."

"Try what?"

"Behaving as if I was a French prostitute."

"Is that why you had the ridiculous accent?"

Julia sniffed. "I thought it sounded rather good."

"Why would a French prostitute be plying her trade in London?"

"I thought it made her sound more interesting. This has been a total failure, hasn't it?"

"Total. A waste of money."

"You haven't paid me." It was a small voice.

"There's the hotel bill. And what about those clothes? They don't look anything like your usual wardrobe."

"Bought them today. I thought I looked good. And a lot of men thought so, too. I was aware of eyes on me all the time as I walked through the lobby."

"Yes." Mark sounded grim. "I can imagine what they were thinking. I don't need all this. I love you the way you are."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Love me?"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you."

"But you don't show me." Julia stood up. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For a while, anyway."

Mark reached out to take her in his arms. "Julia. Darling."

She shook her head and evaded him. "I hoped we could work it out, but there's something missing and you don't even want to try and find it."

"God, you talk in riddles sometimes."

"I'm sorry, Mark." Julia put her hand on the doorknob and turned. "I hope you manage to climb a few more rungs of the parliamentary ladder."

Mark stepped towards her. "Julia...." But she was gone.

Julia closed the door and walked along the corridor towards the lift. In front of the doors was a fairly extensive area with seats, large windows and a view across the city. A man in a dark suit was sitting on a small padded seat.

"Good evening."

"Hello." Julia reached out for the button.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

The man looked at his watch. "Your stay hasn't been very long, has it?"

"I....er...I'm coming back. I....need some air. The room's a bit stuffy."

"I wouldn't advise it. Never know who you might meet on the streets at this time of night."

"It's not very late."

"All the same...."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'll be all right."

The man gave a leering smile. "I wouldn't like anything to happen to one of our guests. Bad publicity."

"Are you the manager?"

He shook his head. "Hotel detective. Ted Baxter. I'm here to make sure all our guests sleep easily in their beds. And here you are, Miss.....?"

"Mrs." Julia quickly corrected him. "Mrs Fulton." She could have said Hancock and Mark would have corroborated her story, but had no intention of involving him.

Baxter moved towards her. "Here you are venturing out onto the streets all by yourself leaving Mr. Fulton in your room. He is in your room, isn't he?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"And he's not worried about you? I would be. An attractive young woman like you. Fair game for anybody, I'd say." He eyed her up and down.

"We....we had a bit of a quarrel." Julia's nervousness was growing. "I'm going to cool off."

"Did you now? I wonder, Miss - Mrs Fulton, whether you'd mind accompanying me back to your room. I'd like to make sure your husband doesn't mind you wandering about. What number?"

"Well....I'd rather he wasn't bothered."

"Number?" She was silent.

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