Frowning, he went to check. I made a lunge for the poker lying discarded against the fireguard and I thought about whacking him then but I chose escape instead. I ran for it like a woman possessed. Down the hall, into the kitchen – the back door was open still – out into the night again. Seb was behind me already; I could sense him closing on me although I pushed myself fast, but he was taller, fitter, stronger, and he brought me down in a rugby tackle that knocked every bit of wind from my lungs. The poker went skidding across the grass.

‘Oh God,’ I moaned in anguish, ‘my ankle.’

And before I could even try to move he was over me now, grinning under the white haze of the moon, and I lashed out at him, catching his lip with my fingernails so that he slapped me across the face so hard I thought he’d broken my nose.

‘You ungrateful bitch. Didn’t you like all the attention? I thought you were enjoying it.’ He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and sat astride me, pinning my arms to the ground. ‘You liked being on that TV programme, didn’t you? I saw your smug little face. That’s why I sent you the flowers; to congratulate you for fucking everything up. You liked telling everyone what to do, didn’t you? Messing with our lives.’

With a massive surge of adrenaline, I realised I had to fight or die here, here on the lawn of my grandmother’s cottage, here where I’d played so happily as a child. I remembered the lilies, the graffiti, the text messages, the sheer petrifying fear, and I summoned every ounce of hatred I’d felt for the mysterious person trying to terrify me so and I propelled it into the knee that I brought up with all my might into Seb’s groin.

‘Oh Christ,’ he bellowed, toppling off me in surprised agony. ‘You fucking whore.’

Up and running now, I didn’t hang around to commiserate – only this time my ankle was throbbing like it had in the hospital after the crash and I knew I didn’t have long before it gave way for good.

I’d head back towards the pub; it was the only place I’d definitely find help. Seb was still grunting in pain somewhere behind me on the lawn and I ran like I used to run when I loved life; when I was twelve and really good; when both my parents were still on the side of the school track. ‘Run, Mag,’ I heard a whispering sigh through the tall dark trees. ‘Run for your life, Maggie. Don’t stop now.’