Instead, she unwinds her scarf and discards it on the ground. No one trained at Hoxton would ever enter an arena of possible physical combat wearing a noose. Stepping on to the outside front of each shoe and curling the foot down on to the carpet, she moves in almost perfect silence across the corridor to the kitchen, then stops. Another puff of air. She can feel floorboards giving under the green carpet, knows that sooner or later she must come to one that creaks.