It was a small room, unbearably hot compared to the chill of the cellar, and sourly lit by another bare bulb. A solid oak table filled most of the space, a chair on either side of it, and along the walls were stacked cardboard boxes filled with bits of metal, jagged panels of glass and plastic, rusted tools and broken appliances. A cabinet full of chipped brown crockery leaned against one wall. The ancient lino was tacky against the soles of her shoes, and in the places where it was torn, she saw worn flagstones beneath. Flies buzzed around the stained porcelain sink, which was full of plates and pans, and the net curtains at the window were so dark with grime that it was impossible to see into the night. On the wall, an old boiler ticked and puffed, roaring intermittently into life, the blue eye of its pilot light a single spot of vibrant colour in the drab room.

Karin didn’t notice all these things that first time, or even the second, but she would spend many hours sitting with Jerry in that kitchen and would come to know every dismal inch of it.

‘Sit.’ He pushed her down into one of the chairs. Years later, she would still be able to close her eyes and recall in her mind’s eye the surface of that wooden table. Her fingers would know the location of every scratch, groove, nick and gouge, every imperfection, as if it were a map of the inside of Jerry Swann’s skull.

A broken cardboard box sat on the chair opposite and Jerry picked it up and threw it into a corner. Something inside smashed when it hit the floor, but Jerry didn’t care. He fell into the chair and placed the knife in front of him, making a lot of tiny adjustments to the angle until he was satisfied it was just how he wanted it. When he took off his glasses, his eyes were tired pinpricks set deep in dark sockets.

‘First things first.’ He cleaned the orange lenses on the flap of his sweat-stained shirt. ‘All the windows are locked, and the doors, so there’s no point in trying to escape. You’re going nowhere. It’s just us here. I can do anything to you, or to those others, and there’s nothing you can do about it, do you understand me?’

Karin wished Becky was beside her, she’d know the right thing to say. ‘Please… let us go.’

‘I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. I may just keep you all here, or do away with you.’

‘Why… would you do that?’

‘Because I can, because no one can stop me.’

His head twitched, some kind of a nervous tic. Karin clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to scream, or do anything to make him angry.

‘Why… why am I here?’ she asked faintly.