‘She’s done a lot of that. And banging on the door. I boarded the window up or she’d have taken a run at it and broken her fucking neck more than likely.’

‘Christ,’ said Belle, rattled. Milly sounded completely insane, ranting that she would kill Stevie, and to let her out or by God there’d be trouble.

‘I’ve left water in there, big plastic demijohns of it. Wouldn’t trust her with glass. And there’s the bathroom right there if she needs it.’

They stood there, all three of them, and listened to Milly making threats, sobbing, screaming.

‘How long will she be like this?’ asked Belle, horrified.

‘Maybe another couple of days. Then she should be in the clear. She’ll feel like shit, but she’ll be OK. She’ll always want it, though. That’s the real danger. Once you’ve had a hit of that stuff . . . it’s fucking evil.’

‘What about the neighbours? Can’t they hear all this going on?’

‘We cleared out the properties on both sides,’ said Jack.

‘Can I see her?’

‘Best not.’

‘I want to.’

Stevie exchanged a look with Jack, who nodded.

‘Righto,’ said Stevie and led the way upstairs. At the top, he turned left and unlocked a door. Inside, everything went quiet. Stevie pushed open the door and stepped aside.

Belle stepped into the doorway. The first thing that hit her was the smell. Unwashed bodies; vomit; shit. And there was Milly, sitting on the bed. Eyes so big in her white face. All her previous chubbiness had vanished. She looked like death warmed over and served up as fresh.

‘Milly?’ said Belle, scarcely believing it could be her.

Milly lurched to her feet, her eyes fixed on Belle’s face. ‘You,’ she said.

Then she came roaring across the room, arms up, hands hooked into claws, ready to rake her nails down Belle’s face. Stevie caught her and held her away from Belle.

‘Shh, shh,’ he said, almost gently.

‘You did this, you made them lock me in here, didn’t you.’ Milly’s eyes were wild. Spittle flew from her mouth. She stank. ‘Harlan told me about you. He warned me. You’re not my friend. You wouldn’t do this to me if you were my friend. I’m glad you’re scarred now, you bitch. Loved yourself, didn’t you. Well not any more. Now you’re ugly like me. Now we’re the same.’

‘She don’t mean it,’ said Stevie.

‘Yes I do!’ shouted Milly, glaring at Belle with bloodshot eyes, trying to reach her with dirty clawed hands.

‘You’re going to get better, Mills,’ said Belle. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

‘Is it? Who says?’ Now Milly was sagging against Stevie’s grip. She began to sob helplessly.