But before I can get there, Vanessa cries out, and I watch helplessly as she falls like a timbered tree. The thud when she hits the ground is sickening, her head taking the full brunt.

She lies there motionless and I look at Michael, open-mouthed, as he stands over her with a knife in his hand.

‘Oh my god,’ I breathe, backing away. ‘Is she . . .?’

‘Naomi!’ says Michael, turning to face me.

‘No!’ I say, shaking. ‘Don’t come any nearer.’

‘But it wasn’t my fault,’ he says. ‘You saw how she was. You saw what she did.’

He looks at me, and I search his eyes for the man I thought he was, and for just a split second he’s there, imploring me to believe him.

‘You’ve . . . you’ve killed her,’ I cry.

He comes towards me and I turn and run, as fast as the pain in my body will allow.

‘Naomi, stop!’ he calls out.

My lungs burn as I fight for every breath I take. My legs turn to jelly, as adrenaline and the desire to survive courses through me.

‘Naomi!’

Brambles hit my face but still my legs work in unison, powering forward over the uneven ground.

I’m almost through the woodland; I can see the perimeter fence of safety, hear the banging drums of The Marriage of Figaro, when my ankle buckles. I cry out as I fall forwards, not least because I was so close to saving myself.

As I hit the ground, my ribs feel as if they’ve left imprints in the soil. I lie there in the dense undergrowth, forcing my panting breaths down into my diaphragm, making my chest feel as if it’s about to explode. I can’t make a sound. I can’t tell him where I am. Because I’ve no doubt that he’ll kill me too.

How have I become embroiled in this nightmare? Been sucked into the vortex of another couple’s toxic marriage?

Because that’s what you do, I hear Leon’s voice saying in my head. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Salty tears make tracks down my cheeks as it occurs to me how close he might be. I let them fall onto the undergrowth for fear that wiping them away will tell Michael where I am.

I freeze as I hear twigs snapping underfoot. It sounds as if he’s right here, so close that I can hear his laboured breaths. Or is it just my own exhalation whistling through the trees?

The stones beneath me are beginning to feel as if I’m lying on a bed of nails. I clench my eyes tightly to shut off the pain.

Too scared to move yet, I strain my ears, listening for any clue as to where Michael might be.