The woman tries to wriggle free. They’re face to face now, arms flailing like fighting crabs, and she shifts round into profile. For a split second I think it’s Tanya – her hair the same shade of red, held up in a ponytail with the exact same bounce – and a deep sadness washes over me as I relive in a single moment all that went wrong between us.

Another cry snaps me out of it. The man grabs the woman’s hair, jerks her head back and starts whispering in her ear. They’re by a cluster of shiny metal tables. Steps behind them lead down into a bar, the glass doors of which are crammed with Halloweened faces peering out. I note that none of them are rushing to get involved.

‘Hey! Let her go!’ I call out when I’m close enough.

‘Fuck off,’ he says without even turning round to see who it is. He’s wearing a grey suit, his tie loosened, the top buttons on his shirt undone, tails hanging loose. He sticks his pale tongue in her ear where it darts and writhes like a hungry, slippery eel. The woman’s trying her best to fight him off, but he’s bigger and stronger than her and she just can’t break free.

I reach them and swing my arm out round his throat, hauling him back hard. He tries to fight but I just tighten even further, closing off his airway. A few more seconds of that and he can see he’s not going to win. He stops struggling and releases her, though I can feel he’s still tense, still amped up. The woman stumbles away, hands at her throat, each gasp for air a saw through wood. A couple of spectators, finally deciding it’s safe enough, stream out of the bar towards her. He’s dressed in a skeleton suit. She’s got yellow skin with a cobweb creeping across her face. They flank her and all three move down the steps.

‘I’ll release you,’ I tell him once they’re safely inside. ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

‘All right,’ he says, voice tight and breathy. ‘All right.’