Instead, she paced up and down the narrow passage between the twin beds in her designated room, trying to come to terms with her situation. It wasn’t easy. She was in some sort of protective custody, in the depths of the Welsh countryside. The building they were in was an old manor house, done out like some sort of hotel. Not what she was expecting, but then she wasn’t sure what to expect. Being thrust into witness protection was way beyond her personal experience. The room reminded her of an old youth hostel she’d stayed at years ago, except that place was sparsely furnished with bunk beds and this was comfortably furnished and kind of plush, if a bit tweedy and old-fashioned. It made her think of Fawlty Towers, and she had a slightly crazed laugh at the idea of it, flopping on to the nearest bed. There was a portable TV on a bedside cabinet and she turned it on, watching the news and yet feeling as if it were about a different planet to the one she currently inhabited. After a while she got up again, too restless to concentrate, and stepped into the en suite bathroom.
