She blinked, the man on top of her becoming less hazy. For a moment she didn’t recognise him. All she saw was the snarling mouth with the cut lip and the spittle that flew as he spoke. She saw the eyes, wide and bruised and burning with anger. A name drifted to her. Moore.

“You thought I wouldn’t come back at you?” he sneered. “You thought you could do that and get away with it?”

His hand at her throat was cutting off her air. She realised she already had her hands up, trying to release the pressure. She brought her knees in so they were pressed against him from behind, and then she hooked her left foot to the outside of his right. He didn’t notice.

“They had to let me go,” he said. “Cops can’t have someone beaten up in their own cells, not without a lawsuit.”

He pulled his right hand back, cracked it against her cheek. Her head swam but she fought through it.

“I saw your mother’s address on one of their files. I thought to myself, the moment I get out of here, I’m paying that girl a visit. I’m going to give her some of what she gave me.” He leaned down, his face mere inches from hers. “I don’t know how you did all that crazy stuff, but I can do some crazy stuff of my own. I can beat that pretty face of yours right off you.”

She waited until he started to lean away, then she trapped his right hand at her throat and smacked her own right hand up into his chin. She didn’t even give him time to feel it. Her hand went to his shoulder, fingers closing around his jacket, and she snapped her body off the ground, bridging him up and over and now she was on top, smashing her elbow down into his face, again and again while he attempted to cover up.

He tried to push her off but she kept bringing the elbow down. He started shouting, cursing at her. Somewhere in the distance she heard a baby crying. Alice had woken up.