Then he saw there was a hammer in Aysha’s hand. She swung it up in a desperate move. It clunked against Bill’s head and he swayed to one side. Blood was running down from his forehead, where the hammer had struck him.

Aysha felt the world reeling around her as the force of Bill’s grip on her neck increased. Fighting for air and unable to get it, in panic she swung the hammer back again at the big man. It smacked into Bill Cleaver’s temple this time, but he had a head like granite. He ducked sideways, wincing, but didn’t release his grip.

Consciousness fading fast, Aysha gave it one last desperate shot. This time she aimed for his face. There was a crunch as his nose was broken wide open. Blood gushed down over his mouth. But he still didn’t let go. She could hear choking noises coming from somewhere and realized that it was her making them. She swung again. The hammer hit him right between the eyes with an almighty dull thunk. Blood started pulsing down over his face in a steady stream, blurring his features.

Then in slow motion Bill toppled sideways and lay stretched out on the dirty old carpet. Aysha, free at last, took in a whooping breath and sat up, both hands on her throat.

‘Holy shit! Oh Christ! That bastard,’ she croaked.

Aysha crawled and then staggered to her feet and gave Bill another hard swipe around the head. Then again, and again. Finally, Connor was able to lurch to his feet and grab her arm.

‘He’s done for,’ he gasped out.

Still eyeing Bill with loathing and fear, gasping, shaking, Aysha kept hold of the hammer and leaned hard into Connor, nearly upending the pair of them. They stood there swaying like drunks out on a Friday night.

‘You OK?’ Aysha choked out, coughing, clutching at her throat.

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Connor, trying to raise a smile and failing. ‘Just give me a mo.’

‘D’you think he’s dead?’ asked Aysha, looking at Bill’s blood-soaked form with a shudder. Shock setting in, she let the hammer fall to the floor.

‘I should fucking hope so, after that,’ he said.

163

163

The woman was acting weird.

Shauna could remember them saying that to the police when they arrived. The men, the ones who had been working, joking between themselves, clearing the river of weed, dredging the channel deeper so that boats could pass unimpeded and the river no longer was a flood risk in rainy periods on this stretch – they had told the police that she was behaving oddly.

Weird as nine pence, that one. Screaming and yelling and crawling about on the ground.