I was done. The gun was clicking empty. He came for me again, groping across the floor for the machete, and my focus swam so much I couldn’t grab it. It wasn’t in my hand anymore – it had gone. I scrabbled out of the office, into the hall and he slithered after me, spitting venom. I had to get to the broom closet. That’s all I could think. Those kids would not die while I was there, not this time. He would have to cut me into tiny pieces first.

There was a loud crash upstairs and fast footsteps on the landing. I got to the closet when a hand grasped my ankle. I waited for blade and pain.

But there were heavy footsteps on the stairs and down them tore Celestina, a blur of red and white. Eyes wild, her face and hands all covered in red. She kicked Paco hard in the face and he rolled away from me, cursing and yelling. And she kept kicking him, his ribs, his spine, stamping on his wrist until he dropped the machete.

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t give him a second chance to rise. Her scream tore through the room like an electrical fire as she brought the blade down hard on Paco’s neck, twice before it detached, tumbling to the carpet. He had squealed, only briefly. She kicked the head away and it stopped rolling beside me – face tilted up. Eyes flickering. Mouth still gasping. Blood oozing. Clean, efficient, necessary.

Even when she held it up by its hair, there was no extraordinary surge of pleasure from seeing his still-blinking eyes and open neck. It was like something had been lifted away from me, like a heavy stone, and thrown clear. God knows how it felt for her. She dropped both head and machete to the floor. I could have sworn I heard the mouth groan.

‘My babies?’ she cried, wiping her hands on her formerly white broderie anglaise dress and kneeling, her hands on both my cheeks, slapping me awake. ‘Donde estan mis bebés?’

I banged my head against the closet door and crawled out of the way. Black spots had appeared in everything I tried to focus on. The tea towels around my stump were sodden through. I could no longer feel the pain of it, I just wanted to sleep. My eyes rolled – I had to stay awake.

By the time I staggered to my feet, Celestina was consoling Saúl and Mátilda inside the closet. ‘Está bien, está bien. Tu mami esta aqui.’

‘How did you get in?’ I said, forcing myself to my feet using the doorframe and swallowing down another urge to puke as I caught sight of my blood-soaked dressing. My left arm was completely numb.

‘Climbed up the drainpipe, smashed a window upstairs.’ Her face shone with sweat. She looked down at herself. ‘I don’t know which blood is mine.’