‘You have to help me.’ Renata ducks down and pulls at Tom’s hand. ‘She’s bleeding. I can’t get it to stop. Please, be quick. I’m scared she’s going to die.’

‘Who?’ He gets slowly to his feet. ‘Who? Who are you talking about?’

Renata bursts in tears. ‘I didn’t mean to stab her. I didn’t … I didn’t know who it was … I couldn’t see … the light was … it was so bright.’

Tom’s expression switches from confusion to urgency. ‘Who?’ He shakes Renata’s shoulder. ‘Who? Who did you stab?’

‘K … K …’ Renata struggles to get the name out. ‘Kate. I stabbed Kate.’

Fran jumps to her feet and follows Tom and Renata as they speed up the basement steps, through the hallway, up the stairs to the first floor and across the landing to the bedroom at the far end. Tom enters the room first then stops abruptly. The sound he makes – a gasp that shudders in his throat then turns into a whimper – is like nothing Fran’s ever heard. It’s so chilling, so unnatural, that all the hairs on her arms go up.

She tries to look round him but Renata’s in the way. They’re all bunched up in the doorway and she can’t see into the room.

‘Help her.’ Renata shoves at Tom. ‘Please, please help her. I don’t want her to die.’

Her words break the spell that’s frozen Tom to the spot and he staggers into the room. As he moves, a space between him and Renata opens up and Fran sees her – Kate – stretched over the bed, her dark hair covering her face, one hand outstretched. She’s covered in blood.

As Tom screams her name Fran darts back down the landing and flies down the stairs, her heels catching and slipping as she runs.

‘Phone … phone … phone …’ She stares around the living room, searching for a landline. Nothing. She can’t see anything, just the gas lamp and the baskets and the TV. She hurries back into the hallway and opens another door. Kitchen. Her eyes flit from the work surfaces, to the cupboards, to the table to French doors that lead to a beautifully manicured garden, and back to the walls. Where the hell is the phone? Back to the living room she runs. She can hear noises from above: Renata screaming and crying and Tom saying his wife’s name over and over again. Where is the phone?

Focus, she tells herself. Focus, calm down. She moves around the room, forcing herself to look properly, and then she sees it, sitting in a cradle to the side of the TV, a black cordless landline phone. She snatches it up and dials 999.

‘Police,’ she barks before the operator can finish her sentence. ‘Ambulance too.’