‘There are certain rules that everyone must follow if they wish to attend. First, you must kiss the hand of the person who arrived before you, and then you must wait for the next person to arrive to kiss your hand. It creates a chain, and the aim is to arrive as early as possible so you’re not the last one in. That person is usually left standing outside in the cold for the entire evening. Once guests are inside, they must then offer a sacrifice. Don’t worry, it’s not anything morbid or bloody, it’s an offering to me, as their host. They have to give me something of theirs: an item of clothing, food, drink, any possession they might have that they’re willing to sacrifice. Then, after that, they must kiss Paddy the Pig. Again, don’t worry, it’s nothing sordid. It’s not like you have to kiss a real one. Paddy’s a taxidermy of a pig we once had in the family many generations ago. He was said to have brought our family good fortune in the past, and so I hope he gives all my guests good fortune, too. It doesn’t matter where you kiss him, or for how long, so long as your lips touch a part of his body, I don’t mind.’

This was getting weirder by the second. Normally, Tomek would have called bullshit on everything the man was saying, but for some reason he unequivocally believed every word that came out of Micky Tatton’s mouth. He was stunned at the sort of bizarre rituals Micky had his guests follow, and wondered what type of person would be willing to agree to them. It was the sort of thing you’d see in films and TV dramas – the high-society secret parties, the political and social elite committing nefarious acts on animals in a bid to win a higher social standing – but he never thought he’d come across it in real life.

‘Inside The Nights of Eden,’ Micky continued, ‘we have different rooms for different things. There’s music provided by a DJ playing in one of them, bars where you can buy drinks. People go in there just for a dance, a little bump and grind. Then we have other rooms where people enjoy themselves a little more freely, and with fewer clothes on, if you know what I mean.’

Tomek knew exactly what he meant, but he couldn’t forgive the man for saying “bump and grind”. Nobody of his age should be saying that type of thing. It made him cringe.

‘What happens in these rooms?’ Rachel asked, more to point up Micky’s awkwardness rather than her own naïvety.

‘You want me to spell it out?’

She prodded her pen on her notebook. ‘If you could. I’ve got to write it down, and I could use a hand with the spelling as well.’

A long, heavy sigh left Micky’s nose. ‘In a couple of the rooms there’s… there’s… it’s an orgy, okay? Beds, sofas, cushions, apparatus – all over the place. Music in the background. A lot of fragrance in the air. And people just… doing what they want to do to one another.’

‘Got that, Rach?’ Tomek asked.

‘Doing what they want to do to one another,’ she repeated, then looked up from her notebook. ‘Have you ever had an instance where someone did something the other person didn’t want them to do?’

‘You mean rape?’

‘Or sexual assault. It comes in many forms.’

Micky shook his head so hard that his cheeks caught up with the rest of his face a fraction of a second later. ‘Never. No. Absolutely not. I have never had any such instance. Like I said, everything is consensual.’

‘But if something did, would you tell us?’

‘Yes.’

‘That wouldn’t interfere with your NDAs at all?’

‘I… I don’t sign one, so I’m not bound by anything.’

‘Just your own moral compass,’ Tomek retorted.

If Micky Tatton took offence at the comment, he didn’t show it.

‘What else goes on?’ Rachel asked.

‘More sex,’ Micky replied bluntly. ‘Couples, trios, as many people as they like, can go into some of the private rooms and sleep together. There are toys, straps, whips, anything they want. It’s all supplied to them.’

‘Protection?’

‘We have condoms, yes…’ Micky hesitated, his mouth open.

‘Why do I sense a “but”?’

‘But half of them have been pierced. It’s one of the rules we have. There’s a pot of them in the corridor, you reach your hand in, take one, and…’

‘And hope for the best?’ Tomek finished.

Now he was beginning to wonder about who the father of Angelica’s unborn baby might be.

‘Anything else?’ Rachel asked.

Micky shook his head.

‘Did Angelica ever use any of these rooms?’ Tomek asked.

The man picked at his fingernail. ‘Yes. She explored all of them. More so the private rooms than the public one.’

‘Do you know who with?’

Micky thought on that for a beat. ‘No. No, I don’t know who he is.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he wears a donkey mask.’

Tomek sniggered. ‘A donkey mask?’

‘Yes, a donkey mask.’

‘And you can’t see his face?’

‘No. That’s part of the point. At The Nights of Eden you can be whoever you want. You have no limits, only the ones you place upon yourself. You have complete and utter freedom and control to do what you want and be who you want. You can really let yourself go. The masks hide the individual, so there’s no chance of being caught or noticed out in the real world. Her particular lover chose to wear a donkey mask, just the same as she chose to wear an angel mask.’

So she’d been sleeping with an ass.

‘We need to speak with him,’ Tomek told Micky. ‘You need to contact him and put him in touch with us.’

Micky Tatton didn’t like the sound of that.

‘I don’t have his number. The only way you could find out who he is would be if you came to one of The Nights of Eden yourselves.’

Now it was Tomek’s turn to dislike something. But as he turned to face Rachel, he realised she didn’t share the same sentiment. Her eyes beamed at the prospect of attending one of these events, of seeing the decadence and debauchery in the flesh. She looked as though it was something that bizarrely excited her, that it may have been on her bucket list.

‘There’s one this weekend,’ Micky added, as if to sweeten the deal.

‘Great,’ Rachel replied. ‘Give us a time and we’ll see you there.’

‘Just remember to make sure you’re on time, if not a little early. We wouldn’t want you hanging around outside, missing out on all the fun.’

‘No, we definitely wouldn’t,’ Tomek retorted.

‘Oh,’ Micky added, ‘and don’t forget your costumes.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE