They proceeded at a slow, bumpy pace for what seemed like miles, up and down inclines, mostly over grass but once or twice across what must have been gravel paths. There was a level of unreality that Pete was vaguely aware of – he was in a wheelbarrow, for fuck’s sake. His legs were hanging over the handles and his neck bent uncomfortably backwards, perilously close to the wheel when the barrow was tipped up and pushed.

What a way to die.

He thought of all the things he’d never done: been a husband, a dad. Never even owned a dog. If he got out of this, he’d bite the bullet and do online dating. He would enter his furniture into design competitions like Meredith was always telling him to. Maybe he could persuade her to go travelling with him. Backpacking around South-East Asia. Was that weird, to want to go travelling with your sister?

It didn’t really matter, whether it was or not.

The barrow slid down a small slope, and his head banged painfully against a hard surface at the bottom. A door creaked open. Pete thought of deserted beaches at sunset, cold beers, fine, pale sand between his toes.

The temperature and humidity changed. He was inside, somewhere damp and cool. A sudden inversion and he was tipped out onto a chilly stone floor, like a pile of horseshit being dumped into the corner of a stable.

It felt a bit like a stable, in fact, although it didn’t smell of horses. Pete struggled to roll over and right himself, his head and arm still hurting more than anything he’d ever injured before; even more so when Rolli grabbed him by the elbow of his bad arm, getting him into a sitting position.

The cloth was ripped off his eyes but it wasn’t any lighter. For a moment Pete wondered if the blow to his head had knocked out his sight, but then a dim blue light appeared – a phone screen – followed by the bright white glare of the phone’s torch function, shining right into his face.

‘Home sweet home,’ Rolli said in his strange, high-low voice, putting the phone down. Torchlight shimmered like a laser beam across a rough tiled floor and Pete could see walls, which might once have been whitewashed, and lighter areas that looked like boarded-up windows. He was in some sort of big shed, maybe. But there was a bench seat running around the walls, about a foot from the ground. Pegs attached, higher up. An old changing room? Was he in an abandoned school or something? It wasn’t big enough to be a public baths.

Rolli approached him again, this time holding a length of rope, which he looped through something behind him and then attached it to whatever had restrained his wrists.