The impact knocked the breath out of her. Pain shot through her right ankle as she tried to stand, but she was in one piece and inhaled a huge breath of relief. ‘I’m OK,’ she shouted up.

Devan waved. ‘Hurry,’ he yelled back, and his head disappeared.

In their haste, they hadn’t discussed the next step. She tried to think. She didn’t have her keys, but maybe she could break a pane in the kitchen door? But it was bolted top and bottom. Oblivious to the pain shooting up her leg, she hobbled as quickly as she could along the wet pavement to the pub. Even if Stacy and Nicole were asleep, their two Alsatians would bark for Britain – that was their job.

Connie shouted the publican’s name over and over, pounding on the heavy, varnished oak. Almost immediately she heard the dogs barking, scrabbling frantically on the other side. She held her breath. ‘Please,’ she begged out loud, ‘please, Stacy, wake up.’

After what seemed like an eternity, she detected the sound of someone thumping down the stairs. Then Stacy’s voice bellowed from the other side of the door, ‘Who is it? What do you want?’

‘It’s me, Connie!’ she shouted back, her voice sounding feeble, blown away on the wind. But Stacy heard. Her body shook with relief at the sound of the bolts being drawn back. Then her friend, in what must have been Nicole’s pink towelling dressing gown, was speaking her name, dragging her inside.

‘Fucking hell, Connie,’ he said, as she gave him a brief, garbled account of what had happened. He ran behind the bar and she watched, shivering and almost unable to stand, as he lifted the receiver and dialled 999.

34

The police arrived first, assuring her the ambulance was right behind. Connie quickly led them round to the kitchen door, where PC Ben Thurlow, swinging a heavy red-metal cylinder, forced the frame, the glass in some of the panes shattering as the wood buckled and gave way. Stamping heedlessly over the shards in their boots, they ran ahead. Stacy, without a word, swiftly picked up Connie – still barefoot: in her haste to rescue Jared she’d forgotten her shoes – and carried her over the broken glass, setting her down safely in the hall.

They found the bedroom key, her phone and what must have been Jared’s on the landing carpet. They were only inches from the door, but out of reach to anyone inside. Connie noticed the metal steps leading from the loft were hanging down. It wasn’t mice. She shivered at the thought he’d been up there all the time they’d been arriving home, having supper, unpacking, getting ready for bed.