There had been a time, early on, when he had tried to kiss her before he raped her. He’d had a strange look on his face, a kind of nervous yearning, which had hardened into his usual scowl when she turned her head away.

He had not tried again.

It had confused her, at first, but afterwards she had understood what had happened. He wanted a relationship. He wanted her to enjoy it, as though they were girlfriend and boyfriend. Wife and husband.

The idea sickened her. The idea terrified her. It showed her just how delusional he was.

When it was over, he stood up. She turned to look at him. He gestured to the plates, and she scrambled to pick them up. She walked to him and put them in his outstretched hands. Up close his skin was sallow, his face badly shaved. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed and he looked tired.

He looked ill.

Maggie had a sudden sense that things had changed, that she – and Max – were becoming a burden to him. Maybe he no longer wanted her there. Maybe he would welcome the chance to be rid of them. After all, he was getting older, and he must be wondering what to do with them.

Hope surged in her. There was – perhaps – a crack in the wall. She could offer him a way out. Make it easy for him.

This was it. This was her chance.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she said.

The man looked at her. After a few moments he nodded.

‘Why don’t—’ now she was saying it, it seemed absurd, the right words hard to find – ‘would you consider – is there any chance – would you – would you let us go?’

There was a long silence. The man blinked, almost as if he had not understood the question. Maggie carried on.

‘I wouldn’t say anything,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t tell a soul, I promise. You could drop us off hundreds of miles from here and I’d tell people I didn’t know where we’d been. I’d say I had no memory, and Max is too young to say anything. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I don’t hate you. I just want us to be free. It would work, it really would.’

He stared at her, motionless.

‘And then you’d be rid of us,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have to be back and forth all the time, bringing food, worrying how we were. You could get on with your life, and we would never mention you. I mean, I don’t even know your name!’

He tilted his head, and for a moment she thought she saw a softening in his expression, and she was sure he was going to say yes, he was actually going to say yes.

And then he spoke.

‘No,’ he said, his voice low and toneless. ‘That’s impossible.’