Page 33 of The Elements

“Excellent. Then shall we get started?” He rubbed his hands together. “Chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

We engaged in no further conversation. Instead, he led me to a bedroom, where he degraded me in ways that I never knew a human being could be degraded.

Behaving worse than any client ever had before, he humiliated me, physically and mentally, treating me worse than you would treat a rabid dog, while speaking to me as if I had ascended from the depths of hell to service him.

I am not here , I told myself over and over.

I am a dead person, observing this scene from a different plane.

When it was over, he reached for a dressing gown and left the bedroom without a word.

I curled up on the floor, not wanting to move but uncertain what I was supposed to do next.

There was blood. There was worse. In that, the first of our many encounters, he took something from me that would never return.

Finally, my original guide returned and seemed disgusted to find me still lying naked on a priceless rug. Instructing me to get dressed, he told me that the car was waiting outside, and within five minutes I was being driven back to the Tube station from which I had been collected.

This went on for six months, and I dreaded the encounters, barely sleeping the night before, but Rafe reiterated that I could not step away.

I had made a commitment, he repeated, and there would be consequences—severe consequences—if I did anything to upset the client.

Sir would let him know when he was finished with me and, until then, I had no choice but to allow him to do whatever he wanted without protest.

“You said you wouldn’t put me in any danger,” I whispered to Rafe on the phone after a particularly brutal session which had led me to making an appointment with a GP, who seemed appalled by the extent of my injuries and urged me to make a complaint to the police.

There was a lengthy silence before the click made me realize that he was no longer there.

The sole advantage of this arrangement was that I was able to move into a small one-bedroom flat of my own. Being demeaned and physically abused every Thursday night was the price I had to pay for independence.

This might have continued for years had I not received a phone call one morning from a man who claimed to work for a tabloid newspa per and who said that he had heard certain rumors about me and Sir.

He wondered whether I would be willing to meet to discuss them.

He would make it worth my while, he told me.

I was accustomed to being paid for my services, but this time I panicked and hung up.

By chance, I was due to meet Sir that same evening.

As we walked toward his bedroom, I asked whether I might speak to him for a moment. He seemed surprised, even annoyed.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, checking his watch. I explained what had taken place, and he listened carefully, a shadow crossing his face.

“And what did you tell him?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” I said. “I hung up.”

He took a seat in what I was fairly sure was a George Hepplewhite chair and thought about this for a long time.

When he looked up again, he nodded and told me that I had done the right thing, but it was best that I should leave now, that he wouldn’t require my services that night after all.

The following evening, however, I returned to my flat after a gym session to discover Rafe sitting in my living room, along with the enormous driver who always brought me to and from Sir’s residence. How he got in, I did not know.

“We had an agreement, Evan, did we not?” asked Rafe, without any preamble.

“I swear I told no one,” I said. And this was the truth. I had never opened my mouth about what I did or who I did it with. Should I even have wanted to confide in someone, who would I have chosen? I was alone in the world.

“I believe you,” said Rafe, his tone mixing disappointment with resignation.

“The truth is, in a place like that, gossip is currency. It could have been any one of his flunkies. But the fact is, he won’t be requiring your services anymore and I would advise you to change your phone number tomorrow in case any other reporters try to get in touch. ”

“Fine,” I said.

“I believe you know Dennis,” he continued, nodding toward the driver.

“Yes,” I said. “Although I didn’t know his name was Dennis. He’s never spoken to me.”

Dennis allowed himself a half smile.

“You’re not the only one with rules to obey,” he said, and I was surprised to hear a strong Welsh accent. I don’t know why, but I had always taken him for a Londoner.

“Dennis here,” continued Rafe calmly, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation, “is going to break your arm. You can choose which one, the left or the right. This is not done to punish you—you’ve done nothing wrong—but simply to impress upon you how serious we are that you never speak about my client in the future.

You will also be required to find a new source of income.

I’m afraid your days of selling yourself have come to an end.

If you disobey me on this, I will find out, and will assume that you are gossiping, which will be unacceptable. Do you understand?”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said, shaking my head as panic settled in. “I promise. Please don’t hurt me.”

“As it happens, I do trust you, Evan,” said Rafe. “So believe me when I tell you that I am truly sorry about what has to happen. But it’s what Sir wants. Call it a shot across the bow.”

For a few moments, I couldn’t find any words.

“But you told me I was your favorite boy,” I said at last.

“I say that to everyone,” he replied, looking embarrassed for me. “Didn’t you know that? You can’t imagine you’re anything special? I employed you to do a job, that’s all. Outside of that, you mean nothing to me, Evan. Nothing at all. I say this to be kind. So you won’t deceive yourself.”

Somehow, in that moment, I made peace with what was to happen. There was no possibility of escape. There was no chance that I could convince him to leave me unharmed. Sir was too powerful. His secrets too important. His place in national life too significant.

Dennis walked toward me. Unlike Rafe, he seemed rather sympathetic to my situation.

“This will only take a moment,” he said, “and the adrenalin rush will kick in quickly, so you won’t feel much pain. Just a sort of general numbness, although you might get dizzy or nauseous. But by then, we’ll be halfway to A&E, where I’ll leave you.”

“All right,” I said, nodding. I couldn’t think what else to say. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So which one?” he asked, looking at me, and I raised an eyebrow, uncertain what he meant.

“Which one what?” I asked.

“Which arm?”

The thought ran through my mind that my future was now decided.

There would be no further work for me in London.

I couldn’t sell my body anymore, and I would never be able to sell my art.

But I had to live, to eat, and to clothe myself.

I no longer had a choice. I would finally have to rely on the only skill I’d ever had.

My beauty. I felt some relief, as if this moment had been a long time coming but had always been inevitable.

I looked at Dennis. I was right-handed, after all, so there was only one logical answer.

“Left,” I said.