Then she saw the nail scissors. Grabbing them, she set to work. First using them to pierce the lino and then, once she’d made the initial incision, to cut a gash from the end of the cupboard to the wall.

Fuller was back now, hammering on the door again. ‘Don’t think you’re going to get away from me, you bitch. Not now. You will die. The gods will have their sacrifice.’

She ripped at the lino, tearing it away from the floor. Then she heaved at the washing machine. Jesus, it was heavy. It shuddered forward a couple of inches, the tumble drier above it swaying alarmingly. She stopped, took in a deep breath and with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, heaved again. Gradually, a few inches at a time, it was coming. She could do this.

That’s when she heard the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. She looked up to see the head of the hammer. It had punctured one small hole in the door. It wouldn’t be long now and he’d be through. She gave one last tremendous pull and managed to get the washing machine almost right across the door. But there was a six-inch gap on the side where the bathroom door was hinged.

‘They’ve taken Beth, they’ve taken Jack, and they’ve taken Crabby. The gods demand their price. You will pay!’

Jesus Christ!

Moving round to the side, she put her full weight behind the tumble drier and pushed. It fell with a resounding clatter of metal and plastic wedging, diagonally between the washer and the corner of the bathroom wall.

She took a deep breath and looked around her. That window was still her only way out. If there was a key in here somewhere she was going to find it.

As Jo got within a few yards of the back of the house she suddenly caught sight of Fuller. He’d appeared from somewhere in the corner of the kitchen nearest the bathroom. Jo swallowed hard. He had a hammer in his hand. He threw it down and disappeared out of sight for a second.

She heard a resounding crash and the splintering of wood. It must be Stone’s men with the battering ram. There was a horrible high-pitched scraping noise. Suddenly, Fuller reappeared. This time he was shoving what looked like an enormous double-fronted fridge freezer in front of him. There was another huge crash and with one push he’d wedged it against the upended table that blocked the kitchen door. Fuller bent down. What was he doing? There he was again. And then he disappeared in the direction of the bathroom, and the hammering resumed.