So engrossed was I in the consideration of objects that I don’t normally get a chance to see up close, that I didn’t hear the sick rattle of the doorbell, or Nick going down to answer it, until it was too late. Voices sounded in the hallway, speaking in a foreign language: one was Nick’s, but the other I was certain belonged to Vlad. There was also a new voice, much deeper. I reckoned Nick wouldn’t want Vlad to know I was there, and I wasn’t keen on encountering him again myself, so I kept very still whilst I heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. I listened until they reached Nick’s living room, their footsteps directly over my head.

Then I sneaked quietly down the ladder. I could slip out of the front door without being noticed but I’d left my bag in Nick’s kitchen. My keys were inside so I couldn’t get into the van, and if I walked home, I couldn’t get into the house. I slid my hand into my jacket pocket. My fingers found my mobile phone, but nothing else.

I stayed put for a minute, listening to the voices upstairs. A lively discussion was rapidly escalating into a heated argument. I crept to the door and peered out into the corridor. A voice suddenly raised in anger – Vlad’s voice, aggressively loud, bullying, accompanied by a series of thumps: his gloved fist pounding on a table, or something worse? Then came a tremendous crash, like a piece of furniture being thrown over, and the unmistakeable sound of a slap. I heard Nick cry out.

I raced up the stairs, slipping my phone from my pocket, and held it against my ear. ‘Police!’ I yelled, rushing into the room. I held the phone out at arm’s length. ‘I’ve called the police!’ I hadn’t of course. No signal. I just hoped Vlad and his companion didn’t realise that.

I had the advantage of surprise. They had no idea I was in the building and for a moment they stared, speechless with shock. Then Vlad let out an oath. His companion, solid as a church door, black hair crinkling over a low brow – let’s call him Igor – stood still and gaped at me. He was gripping a bunch of Nick’s shirt front in one massive fist, the other raised in preparation for a blow.

‘Get out!’ I screamed at him, pointing the way down the stairs. I tried to control my voice but it was shaking and way off the scale. ‘Go!’ I waved the phone at them, screeching like a harpy. ‘Police! I’ve called the police!’

They might not know much English, but they understood ‘police’ all right. Igor slowly released his hold on Nick.