As Paula nodded, Jem scrambled up and hit a light switch. Nothing happened, and she squinted upward, swearing at the shattered bulbs and ruined shades. Shards of glass and crockery covered the floor, splintering beneath her trainers as she ran to each window in turn and opened the blinds. She locked and bolted the door on the way past, and then knelt by Paula and retrieved the first aid kit. The astringent smell of tea tree oil overwhelmed that of fried breakfasts as she tore open a packet of burns dressings.

“There were two of them, two men,” Paula said. “Waited until the morning rush finished, then came in with metal bars.” She groaned as Jem carefully turned her hands over.

“How much did they take?” Jem asked, aiming to distract her while she wrapped the pads over the burns.

“They didn’t take anything.”

Jem paused in the middle of bandaging the first pad into place. “Then why? What the hell were they doing?”

“Warning me,” Paula said quietly. “They were warning me not to ask questions. They smashed everything and pushed my hands on the grill, and then they just walked out.”

“Oh shit,” Jem whispered. “Is this because of me? Because I told you about Tahlia and the shelter?”

Paula nodded with obvious reluctance. “I can’t think of anything else, love. I’ve been asking my regulars if they’ve heard of a place called Olly’s or seen that missing lass.” She winced and repositioned her unbandaged hand. “Word must have got back.”

Jem resumed dressing the wounds, her actions slow and deliberate. If she stopped to consider, even for a moment, the chain of events she had set in motion here, she wouldn’t be able to help Paula.

“Did you see their faces?” she asked.

Paula shook her head. “They both wore balaclavas. After they—when they left, I couldn’t get to the door. I couldn’t see their car, but I heard them drive away.”

Jem tied off a second bandage and found a box of paracetamol. “Here, take these,” she said, popping out a couple of the pills and fishing a bottle of water from under a chair. The men had wrenched the drinks fridge off the wall and sent its contents flying. “I wish I had something stronger with me, but they’ll do till I get you to the hospital.”

“I need to wait for the police. I need to tell them…” Paula paused to swallow the tablet Jem set against her lips, choking slightly when Jem tilted the water too far.

“Tell them what?” Jem asked, blotting up the spillage with a piece of gauze.

“One of the men, he had a tattoo. It was really distinctive. One of those black, angry-looking things on his throat. They might be able to identify him from it or something. I don’t know how it works, but it could help.”