Much later, I wondered if the waving around of the knife was some kind of prevarication. He didn’t seem to hate me, particularly; at least not until he dragged me out of the corner of the van by my wrists as far as the chain would reach, and repeatedly kicked me in the kidneys and spine until I felt like my body was a sack filled with shards of vertebrae and feared I’d never walk again. I couldn’t believe my back wasn’t broken.

‘You had it coming, you bitch,’ he said almost casually, his voice mean, although not angry. Then he stopped, took one step towards me, raised the knife up high, and held it with both hands, like a sacrificial sword. I put my own bound hands in front of my face to protect me, looking desperately from side to side to see where I could escape to – somewhere to roll out of his reach – but there was nowhere to go, and my back was too sore to move anyway. For a moment I thought this was it, it was all over. I closed my eyes, not even realising that it was me making the high-pitched squealing sound that was all I could manage inside the gag.

Then, out of nowhere, a banging, and a quavery but firm voice from outside of the van: ‘Everything all right in there? What’s going on? I’m going to go and telephone the police!’

My attacker brought the knife down towards me, full force. The voice must have thrown him, though, because the knife missed whatever target he’d been aiming at – eye, throat, heart? Instead he caught my hand, the knife striking and breaking the bone leading to my middle finger, then slipping between that bone and the next, my ring fingerbone.

I rolled back, the knife still stuck in me, blood spurting everywhere and splashing my face as I kicked out at him with my free leg now that he was disarmed, determined that he wasn’t going to get another go. The knife was mine now – in me, through me, of me – and the shock was so great that it kept the pain at bay, just for a few seconds.

I’m sure he’d have had another go, had there not been someone outside. It would have been easy for him to overpower me and pull out the knife, but he must have panicked, or decided to cut his losses and make a run for it, shoving up the shutter just far enough to throw himself out and vanish into the dark stillness of the night.

I’d never believed in God, but the appearance of that Good Samaritan, right at that moment, made me change my mind.

40

Present Day
Gemma