But before she could ruminate more, she heard a muffled clatter of metal from somewhere beyond the confines of her cell. Silence followed, but it wasn’t the silence of nothing. Lorna could easily imagine, in fact she could virtually sense, the approach of stealthy footfalls. But even then, she almost jumped out of her skin when, with a hefty clunk, a key turned in the lock. She slumped lifelessly down, as the door, which was clearly well oiled, opened silently and someone came in. With another clunk, it closed behind them.

Thanks to the angle of her head and her half-closed eyes, all Lorna could initially see was a pair of legs wearing some kind of heavy-duty, black canvas trousers, with what looked like combat boots on the feet. The legs came and stood directly in front of her.

The intense horror of that moment was almost overwhelming, the seconds seeming to telescope out, so pregnant were they with tension, so thoroughly did Lorna feel that she was being scrutinised. She was attempting to feign unconsciousness, but how would they fall for that? Surely, she was visibly trembling? Surely, she was breathing with frantic, desperate speed?

A boot prodded her left foot.

Lorna didn’t respond.

The boot prodded her again, harder, less patiently.

Still, she didn’t move. The blurriness and dizziness had left her, but simply by playing dead she’d managed to learn a little about the opposition. Perhaps there’d be more.

Suddenly, the boot kicked her. Sharply, and not on the foot this time, but on the ankle, causing her to flinch with shock and pain, to yank her leg back. But still Lorna resisted a strong response. Instead, she murmured slightly, burbling a bit of nonsense – who knew, it might convince her captors that the movement they had witnessed through the camera was nothing, and that their prisoner was still out for the count.

The legs remained in front of her, the booted feet now spread apart. There was a dull, muffled breathing. Which suddenly sounded angry.

Lorna felt a pang of fear. Had she miscalculated? Through half-closed eyes, she was shaken to see one of the boots slowly draw back. Clearly, it was about to land a kick on her unprotected face.

When it swung forward, she had no option but to throw herself aside, rolling across the cell until she reached its corner, her shoulder jarring on the wall. She slid up it, trying to assume a standing position. Her legs were still rubbery, her vision tilted, but gradually everything stabilised again, and she was able to turn around. Only to find that it was impossible to identify the person she now faced.