Chapter 33

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When Katharine left Harry’s office, it was only three-forty-five. Her appointment with Tony McKeown was at four-thirty. She had half an hour to fill.

From the bright sunlight, she entered the cool, dim arcade. Squinting, she slowed her pace, until her eyes adjusted to the softly filtered light from the vaulted ceilings of glass. Then, driven by the specter of her sister, she marched blindly down narrow corridors, surrounded by marble and brass. Soon she was lost in a maze of tiny shops.

She stopped for coffee on the mews. From her purse, she took a pen and notebook and laid them on the table set with white linen and silver. She had to organize her thoughts before meeting Tony.

Her sister’s face floated into her mind again. The stitching and the bruised, puffed disfigurement enraged her. Suzannah was no different from the women at Emma’s shelter. That female, self-effacing deference nearly drove her mad. When she told them to be strong and stand up for themselves, they just looked blankly at her. How could you build confidence and strength when there was nothing to work with? They were only little children. Looking up, she stared at pigeons strutting and puffing along the intricately scrolled ledge.

The white-coated waiter’s face was bland and smiling as she ordered coffee. She gazed down the mews at the rows of stone columns in shadows, and shivered. Women were traditionally subservient. Caught in dependency, they made easy and convenient targets. But why had violence increased as women gained their independence? Her coffee arrived, and she sipped it. Women still flocked to the shelter in droves. Her thoughts returned to Suzannah.

Through tears, Suzannah had said only several weeks ago, “Frank will never leave. He needs someone to hurt.”

“For God’s sake! Why do you let him?” Katharine demanded.

Suzannah shook her head slowly and said, “You can’t get rid of men like Frank. He enjoys hurting people too much. It’s that simple.”

Katharine never understood women’s weakness, but she could grasp glimmers of the pleasure of domination and submission. Few men frightened her. None had been physically brutal. With her own strange sense of power, she had frightened a few herself.

Years back, she had been with a senior cabinet minister in the government. Although soft and more than middle-aged, he had radiated power and charm. He had commanded her to undress and lie on the bed. As he watched her satisfy herself, she had thought he would ignite. Katharine reveled in a strange, shifting mixture of domination and submission.  After all, it was only a game, which ought not be taken too seriously.

She turned to thoughts of Tony. He had intentionally put himself in a position of conflict by acting for St. Timothy’s, submitting an offer for a client on Marjorie’s house, and advising her and Gerry. She would find out why.

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