Saltbridge, a residential district, was much quieter than the town centre, and she navigated through most of its network of narrow streets on two wheels, tyres squealing. At the same time, she scanned left and right for anything even vaguely untoward; any persons ducking out of sight, any vehicles speeding away. When she reached her mother’s address, a space was available directly in front of it. Thanking God, Lucy slid to a halt, jumped out and, with heart hammering on her ribs, strode quickly to the front door.

It was closed and locked, which might be a good sign, but then again …

She peered along the street in both directions, eyes straining hard to ensure that there really was no one loafing around who shouldn’t be, no one keeping watch from a side-alley or sitting in a suspiciously parked car. Everything appeared to be normal and the night remained quiet, but sweat still dabbled her brow as she let herself into the house.

Immediately, she heard the television in the lounge.

And then a voice called out: ‘Hello?’

It was her mother’s.

More relieved than she could say, but still with an overwhelming sense of urgency, Lucy replied that it was only her, closing the front door firmly behind her and, applying the safety chain. She checked in the kitchen first, where the back door was also closed and locked, before going into the lounge.

Cora looked as if she’d just come in from her evening exercise walk, which she usually did with her best friend, Maggie Denton. She was back on her own now, wearing a blue tracksuit and white trainers, and sitting on the sofa with her feet up, a mug of steamy tea on the rectangular coffee table next to her. Her hair was done up in clips, but damp and hanging in strands. Though a news programme was on the TV, Cora’s reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she worked her way through the Manchester Evening News.

‘Thank God you’re in,’ Lucy said.

Cora gave a wry smile. ‘You thought I’d be off gallivanting somewhere?’

‘Well, it is Friday night.’

As Lucy said this, she stepped into the lamplight, and Cora saw the claw marks on her face.

‘Oh, my God!’ The newspaper dropped into her lap. ‘What’s happened this time?’

‘Nothing to worry about.’ Lucy moved to the telephone on the sideboard. ‘Listen, can you pack an overnight bag?’

Cora stood up. ‘What … why?’

‘Mum, don’t argue please …’ She put the receiver to her ear. ‘Just go upstairs, grab yourself some toiletries and a nightie or something, and straight back down here, okay?’