When she was seated, Frank switched the light on and frowned when he saw that the bruise on her cheek was worse than he’d initially thought. Her clothes were filthy, and her torn blouse appeared to be spattered with dried blood. There were more bruises on her arms, some more recent than others judging by their varying shades, and yet more on her legs.

Strongly suspecting that this was the result of an assault and not a fall, he said, ‘Who did this to you, love?’

‘No one,’ she replied quietly, dipping her gaze. ‘Was my fault for be clumsy.’

Frank didn’t believe her, but he couldn’t force her to talk about it if she didn’t want to, so he locked the gun away and then filled the kettle.

‘I think I may be sick,’ the woman mumbled, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘Where is bathroom, please?’

‘Top of the stairs.’ Frank pointed the way. ‘First door on the right.’

She rushed out of the room, and Frank took two cups out of the cupboard. About to put teabags into them, he dropped the canister when he heard a heavy thump on the floor above, and ran up the stairs.

‘Hello . . .?’ He knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Are you OK in there?’

When no answer came, he tried the door. It wasn’t locked, but something was obstructing it, so he had to use his shoulder to force his way in. The woman was sprawled on the floor behind it, her face as white as a sheet, the bruises even more livid under the bright light. Squatting down beside her, Frank gently shook her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she swallowed loudly before asking, ‘What happen?’

‘You blacked out,’ he told her, slipping his arm under her back. ‘Let’s get you sat up, eh?’

‘I do not feel good,’ she croaked, leaning against his shoulder when he eased her into a sitting position.

Concerned that she might have some kind of internal injury, Frank said, ‘OK, stay there while I get my phone. I’m going to call for an ambulance.’

‘No!’ Panic flaring in her eyes, the woman clutched at his hand when he made to stand up. ‘You cannot tell anyone I am here. If he find me, he will kill me.’

‘You’re safe here,’ Frank assured her. ‘And you’ll be safe in the hospital, too. Tell the police who did this to you, and they’ll—’

‘You do not understand,’ she cried. ‘I cannot talk to police because I am not meant to be here. I will rest for minute, and then I will go.’

‘If you try to go back out there in this condition, you won’t last ten minutes,’ Frank warned.

‘I do not care,’ she murmured, tears glittering in her eyes. ‘Death is better than . . .’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but Frank got the gist, and he shook his head sadly.