She turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the flat, putting her bag and camera down at her feet, flipping the light on in the small lobby area and slipping out of her coat. It might be late but she felt chilly and she fancied a hot drink before bed. Besides, her thoughts were swirling around like a whirlwind and she wasn’t sure she would be able to contemplate sleep for a while. Simon! The kiss. Their hands locked together all the way home. The desperate urge to pull him through the door and up the stairs with her. Where had those feelings come from? She hardly knew him and it would be wrong to rush into anything so soon after Joe, but that was her sensible head talking. Somewhere deep inside her there was something else, something instinctive, telling her to go for it, to grab a bit of lustful fun. She took a big breath and smiled to herself. Really, how on earth had she managed to resist them?

She padded her way through the semi-darkness to the kitchen, dropped Madi’s post on the table and leant back against the wall tiles as she waited for the kettle to boil. Its blue light mesmerised her as she watched the water start to bubble through the glass. She closed her eyes. She could still run after him. Or call him. She had his number in her phone. No, Prue. Take it slow. He’ll wait. You know he will. She felt another of those unexpected shivers ripple through her. A shiver of anticipation, a promise of what was to come. And then …

She heard it before she saw anything. A faint noise, like a drawer closing. Her eyes flew open and she turned towards the open kitchen doorway and the darkened room beyond. A rustle of clothing, slow footsteps, a floorboard creaking, someone breathing. Who? Where? In the bedroom? No, the living room. Coming closer. Someone she couldn’t yet see, but she knew they were there.

She felt her pulse quicken, her heart banging in her chest. There wasn’t time to look for a rolling pin or take a knife from the drawer, so she grabbed the first thing to hand. The kettle. Hot. Steaming. Heavy. She lifted it from its base, clutched at the handle, held it in front of her, ready to throw it, hit out with it, protect herself.

Creak.

Now! It had to be now. She let out a loud scream, part cry for help, part battle cry, as she lunged through the doorway and into the space between them. But she was too late. The blow came quickly, from the side, sending her reeling backwards into instant blackness. Her head thumped hard into the kitchen cabinet on her way down as the kettle flew from her hands, a cascade of boiling water tumbling out of the top and down her arm, and spreading out around her on the kitchen floor.