"Confounds received notions of good taste - unspeakable acts are reported with an unwavering reasonableness essential to the comic impact and attesting to the deftness of Gibson's control"

- Times Literary Supplement

Tulip stood and stared at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a black satin dress, high-heeled mules and an absurd wig of thick treacle curls that fell, in glittering cascades, to her elbows. Beneath the wig her face seemed very small and flat. She had the eyes of a goldfish and a slightly crooked mouth. Her eyebrows were no more than tiny black brushstrokes and her lips a mere splash from a scarlet pen. She stared at herself and smiled. She was tired and bored. Her ankles ached from the cruel tilt of the mules. She cocked her head until a curtain of heavy curls obscured her view, parted the hair with her fingers, smiled again, thrust out her breasts, cradled her belly in plump white hands, flirted with herself in the glass. When she was satisfied with her reflection she turned her attentions upon the room.

The room was small and hot and filled by a clumsy old-fashioned bed. Beside the bed a red telephone and a large armchair. Behind the armchair a locked door. There was a wash-basin in one corner of the room. On a shelf above the basin a bowl crammed with tablets of scented soap. A glass vase of wilting flowers on a low metal table. Rugs on the floor. A blind of candy-coloured slats against the window. A bookshelf against one wall and a battered wardrobe. A collection of dolls on the bookshelf. Beside the wardrobe a second door that led to the stairs and the street.

Tulip walked to the bed and picked up a twisted pillow.

CHAPTER ONE

1

THE SANDMAN

 You’ll like William Mackerel Burton.  He’s young and good-looking. Funny, warm and generous.  He has just one unfortunate habit – he murders people.  But you find yourself forgiving him. And as you’re gently seduced by him you have to ask yourself one question:  Would you commit murder if you knew you could get away with it?

continued