I did not sleep well. Something about a hard prison bench and three other people all shouting loudly interfered with my best efforts.

I came up before the judge at two in the afternoon and I was exhausted by then.

The inside of a courtroom was something I’d only seen on TV before. Actually standing inside one was surreal, like I was on the set of some new TV show. I felt a hysterical giggle rising up inside me as the judge gave me my options. I was so nervous I almost fainted.

“There is far too much drunken brawling taking place in this city,” he said, looking at me over the top of his glasses. “And a young woman too.” He shook his head. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He managed a smile but his eyes stayed cold. “Unfortunately all the evidence points in a different direction. I will grant bail conditional upon a bond payment of one thousand pounds.”

“But I haven’t got a thousand pounds.”

“Then you will be remanded in custody until a trial date is set. You could afford to go drinking, I note for the record. You should be able to afford your bail.”

“Your Honor,” a voice said behind me. “Could I have a moment with the defendant.”

“Who are you?” the judge asked as I turned to see the who’d offered to pay my rent arrears for me last night.

“A lawyer?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Very well. One minute only. I do not have all day while you converse with your client.”

The man squeezed through the seats from the back of the courtroom and leaned over the wooden bar that separated me from freedom. “Can't believe that worked. Listen, I’ll pay your bail if you agree to meet my employer.”

“I told you, I don’t want your help.”

He shrugged. “What's the alternative, lady? You want to go to prison?”

“No but-”

“Then take the money and come and see him. All he’s asking for is five minutes of your time. That’s not too much, is it?”

I looked from him to the judge and did a quick mental calculation of my options before whispering back, “All right, fine.”

The judge coughed loudly. “May we continue?”

The man turned to the judge. “Of course, your Majesty. I am authorised to pay any costs or fines to be levied by the court today, your Worship.”

“It’s a bail hearing, counsellor.”

“Then bail it is. And perhaps I could give you something for your trouble?”

“Are you attempting to bribe a magistrate of the bench in open session?”

“Would you prefer I did it over the phone? I’m just kidding, your Parsnip.”

Despite the man’s best efforts, I was set free, the bail paid. I walked out  of the building and found him running after me. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.”

He shook his head. Five minutes of your time. You agreed. Taxi!” He waved a hand and a passing black cab swerved and pulled up next to us.

“I’m not sure about this, ” I said as he climbed in.

“Look, you’re going to go in his office. Listen to what he has to say. Five minutes. That’s all. What harm can it do?”

The taxi driver shouted. “Are you getting in or what?”

The man beckoned me. “I’m so going to regret this,” I said as I climbed in next to him.

A quarter of an hour later we stopped in front of one of the anonymous office blocks that riddled the middle of the city. I followed the man inside and into the elevator. He hit the button for the fifteenth floor and we stepped out a short time later into a plain corridor that led to a number of closed doors, none of them labelled. “Here we are,” he said, stopping at the second one from the end, rapping on the dark wood.

“Come in,” a voice called out.

The man pushed open the door and stepped aside to let me enter. I walked in to find myself facing another elderly figure with thinning white hair. Maybe they were brothers. This one was sitting behind a huge desk, papers fanned out in front of him.

“Ah, you must be Miss Harris,” he said. “Won’t you take a seat.”

“Who are you? What is this?”

“This is an office and I’m Richard Senior.”

“And why am I here?”

“Because I’m a lawyer.”

“I can’t afford a lawyer.”

“Oh, it’s not about what you’ve done. This is about the wishes of my client.”

“And who is your client?”

“For the moment he prefers to remain anonymous.”

“Of course he does.”

“Miss Harris. I will make this short. My client wishes for you to spend seven days living in his home to assist him in a task he needs performed. In return you will be paid one million pounds.”

I looked at him, waiting to see the laughter start. He just looked at me, fingertips pressed together under his chin.

“This is a joke, right?”

He shook his head. “No joke. One week for one million pounds.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Excuse me?”

“The catch. People don’t just hand out that kind of money to house guests. Am I babysitting Satan? Clearing up a crime scene? Cannibal dinner party, is that it?”

“I see. There is a catch, of sorts. Once you are in, there is no leaving. You are to obey my client’s every instruction. At the end of the week, you leave with the money. You are never to contact my client or myself again. You will be subject to a nondisclosure contract. If you mention to anyone where you’re going or what happens there, the money will be forfeit.”

“What if I’ve already spent it?”

“So you agree to do it?”

“I didn’t say that. How do you get the money back if I blab after I spend it?”

“We sue you into financial oblivion.”

“You wouldn’t have to work too hard. Who is your client anyway? Why do they want me?”

“You will find that out when you arrive at his address.”

“So it’s a he. I don't talk to strangers, it's a rule I have.”

“I sense some reluctance on your part. There is an alternative option if you prefer.”

“Which is?”

“I am authorised to pay you ten thousand pounds today. In return you walk away from this office and forget this meeting evey took place.” He lifted a briefcase onto the desk and turned it to face me, pulling it open at the same time. Neat rows of notes were lined up inside. He took out five bundles, placing them in front of me. “Ten thousand in cash if you choose to walk away now.”

I ran my hand over the top of the money. It felt real. “You’re a lawyer,” I said. “What would you choose?”

“That’s not for me to say. It’s entirely your decision.”

“You must have an opinion.”

“I do know that ten thousand pounds is an awful lot of money for someone in your situation. This is my personal opinion, not my professional one you understand? I would take the money and walk away, clear the arrears, pay the court fine that will be levied for the unfortunate incident last night, move on with your life.”

I looked at him, weighing one of the bundles of notes in my hand. “Two thousand pounds feels surprisingly light,” I said out loud.

I was holding enough to get Ryan off my back. Another of the bundles would clear all my debts and I’d have enough left over to set up my own educational trust, work for myself, run all the guided tours I want, maybe even get some of the inner city schools involved, subsidize the trips for them. But for how long? It would soon run out.

The million though. Think what I could do with that. I could do so much good with it. “Will I have to do anything illegal if I say yes?”

“No. Everything will be above board. But what does it matter. Just take the ten grand.”

I put the bundle on the table, sliding it back across towards the briefcase. “I’ll go for the week.”

There was a flicker of something in the lawyer’s face but I couldn’t work out what it was. “Sign here,” he said, passing me a thick wad of paper. “And here. And here.”

I did as he asked.

"And here. And here. And here. Initial here. Sign here." At last he turned the final page.

“Now what?”

“Now you have tonight to prepare yourself. Promptly at nine tomorrow morning be at this address with nothing in your pockets.” He passed me a business card. “As per the contract, do not tell anyone where you are going or why. You may tell them you will be away for a week but no more detail than that. Now, good day Miss Harris.” He held a hand out towards me. We shook and then it was over.

It felt like a dream as I walked back out along the corridor. The only proof that the meeting had really happened was the business card in my hand. It wasn’t an address I recognised. Had I just turned down ten thousand pounds? It had been right in front of me and I’d walked away from it. Was I making a huge mistake?

I got home to find my key no longer worked. I was able to get into the building but not through my door.

“He changed the lock,” Annie said behind me, leaning out from her place. “Did it while you were jailbound. Tried to do it to my door but I just shook my fist again and he backed down. How come you’re out so soon?”

I told her briefly about the man paying my bail.

“Why did he agree to do that?” she asked when I was done.

“I can’t say. Listen, Annie, I’ve got to go away for a while.”

“Aren’t you at work this evening?”

“Got fired while I was in jail.”

“What?”

I nodded. “I might be gone for a week or so. Can you try and make sure he doesn’t throw any of my stuff out.”

“He’ll have to step over my dead body to do it. But what about the rent? How are you going to catch up if you’re out of a job?”

“I should have something soon but I need to chase it up.”

“Are you all right, Jodie? You’re acting kind of funny.”

“I’m fine. Any chance I can spend tonight at yours? I’ll be gone first thing tomorrow.”

“Of course. Stay as long as you need.”

“One night is good.”

“So where are you going tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a plan to get some money.”

“If it’s a bank robbery, I got to tell you, I’m in. We’ll be like Thelma and Louise.”

“Didn’t they die at the end?”

“Okay, we won’t do that bit but the rest, outlaws on the lam. I’m well up for that.”

“It’s not a bank robbery.”

“Come on, tell me, I’m your best friend.”

“My only friend.”

“That too. What’s going on?”

“I can’t say. Just wait to hear from me and when I’m back I might have some good news about our little educational tour company.”

“Getting poor kids into history.” She smiled. “The dream.”

“I think the slogan needs work. It sounds like we’re going to kill them.”

“No it doesn’t. That would be make kids history. Now shall we go inside or talk in the corridor for the rest of the day?”

She tried her best to get more information out of me but I stonewalled her so long she gave up in the end. We spent the rest of the day finding out which of her clothes best fit me so I had something clean to wear in the morning.

That turned into a fashion show that morphed into a contest to see which of us could wear the most outfits at once. She won with eleven dresses over the top of each other, looking like a sumo wrestler as she shook her fists in the sky in victory.

I looked up the address on Annie’s cellphone, mine was still locked in my apartment. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Ryan’s face when I handed over the arrears and demanded he unlock the place. Maybe I’d even buy the building out from under him.

I shook my head. I wasn’t rich yet. I had to go to Millstone Manor on the outskirts of the city first. Google Street View only took me up to a wrought iron set of gates, a driveway heading up a hill on the other side. I’d have to wait and see what it looked like when I got there.

The next morning a cab beeped outside. I woke up to the noise and looked out of the kitchen window to see the cabbie pressing all the buttons at once, hoping someone would let him in. I hit the intercom before remembering Annie’s was as out of order as mine. Bare wires and no sound.

I ran downstairs in Annie’s spare dressing gown, opening the door to blindingly bright morning light. “Jodie Harris?” the cabbie asked.

“Yes, why?”

“I was booked to take you to Millstone Manor. You ready?”

“Not quite. Who booked you?”

“Umm.” He looked down at his phone. “Richard Senior.”

“Give me two minutes.”

I ran back upstairs and got dressed, yelling a goodbye to Annie through her bedroom door as I headed out again.

It took forty minutes to reach Millstone Manor. The gates slid open as we pulled up, allowing the cab to drive straight through and start a slow procession along an avenue of cherry trees. Beyond them a long lawn stretched away into the distance on either side. To the far left I could see a lake, a group of deer drinking at the edge. “Nice place,” the cabbie said. “Yours?”

“Just visiting,” I replied as the house came into view.

It wasn't just a nice place. It was a huge place. Four tall columns holding up the roof along the front edge, white stone, enormous windows, countless chimneys. How many windows? I could count ten just on the ground floor, five either side of the double doors. The doors themselves were at the top of a set of broad white steps. In front of that was a swoop of gravel where the cab came to a halt. “What do I owe you?” I asked, feeling my empty pockets and remembering I’d been told to leave everything behind. All I had was the key to the apartment block.

“All paid for,” he said, watching as I climbed out.

As he drove away the front door of the mansion opened and a procession of people appeared. At the front of them was a woman who looked like she was in charge. She was tall and imposing, reminding me a little of my gym teacher from my first school.

“Good morning, Jodie,” she said. “Welcome to Millstone Manor.”

“Thank you,” I replied, letting her guide me up the steps to the line of people waiting for me.

“This is Terrance. He’s Mr Stempel’s bodyguard. This is Michael, his driver. Jacqueline will be your personal maid while you’re here and Carl will cook your meals for you. I’m Gwyneth Bonner, Mr Stempel’s secretary.”

I shook one hand after another, trying desperately to remember the names she’d just thrown at me. “And who is Mr Stempel?” I asked.

“You’ll be meeting him very shortly. If you’d like to wait in his office. This way.”

She led me inside. The entrance hall was so big, my footsteps echoed back to me. I was surrounded by statues on plinths, huge paintings on the walls adding to the atmosphere of wealth. Down a corridor on the left, Gwyneth led me towards an open door, motioning for me to enter.

“Take a seat, he’ll be here soon. When he arrives, address him as Sir. Only speak when spoken to and whatever you do, don’t turn your back on him.”

She shut the door, leaving me inside. I thought I was alone but then I noticed a man in overalls cleaning a stain off the wall by the desk. “Hi,” I said, nodding to him.

“Morning,” he replied.

He was scraping delicately at the wallpaper with what looked like a scalpel.

“What happened?”

“A Scotch on the rocks by the smell of it.” He glanced up at me. “Mr Stempel throws things when he’s angry.”

I went to say something else but as I did so, the door burst open and an enormous man leapt into the room. “You haven’t got that sorted yet!” he yelled at the workman. “What the hell am I paying you for?” His eyes had already moved past. Without even looking at me he pointed in my direction whilst marching over to his chair. “Who the hell are you?”