Chapter Eighteen
Tim
The light of the single spot that lit the inner courtyard reflected up from the wet flagstones and a cold, demoralised and a still disbelieving Tim Kennedy sensed his tormentor was watching as he lay on his side, the chain she had shortened before re-attaching it to the wall preventing any return to what he could now see was a kennel.
His kennel.
Cocking his head, as if he were for all the world the befuddled canine she seemed intent upon making him, he considered that the greater the duration of time he spent in the situation thrust upon him the greater, it seemed, his disbelief that he could be in such a situation at all. One day he had been an affluent City accountant with a biddable wife whose aunt had provided a trust supplying a home. The next he had found hi
