Looking down at the beer-soaked floor, I close my eyes and try to think of the most innocent and pleasant image I can, something distracting. I momentarily land back in my old kitchen that final day with Mum. I see her face, her eyes twinkling as she listens to Geoffrey on the radio, see her grab for the pen to scribble down the name of the book. I hear her melodic, soft voice repeating it to make sure she got it right: ‘The Spirits of Holly Maze House. Ooh, that sounds right up your street.’ But then a deafening roar goes up from the crowd and the memory fractures into a thousand pieces. It must be over, I think to myself. But as I open my eyes I see, in front of me, the horrifying sight of Morris lying on the floor of the ring, his face a mass of bloodied flesh.

It’s horror beyond words, but it’s not over. Within seconds, he’s back on his feet, though he staggers from side to side like an injured animal. Fahey comes at him. Morris raises his gloved hands to block the punch but he’s clearly too weak to defend himself. The blazing-eyed young man who had looked so fresh and handsome as he stood in the ring at the beginning of the fight now flops around drowsily as Fahey rains blow after blow upon him. The knockout punch seems to come from nowhere. Morris falls on his side. The crowd cheers with unrestrained glee. And all the while, beside me, Connor stands transfixed, his hands still balled into fists.

I feel dizzy; a mix of the intense heat, the noise and the unquiet sense of doom that pervades the room. I need to get out of here.

‘I’m going to get some air,’ I say to Connor, squeezing past him.

‘Vanessa, you can’t, it’s …’

His voice is drowned out by shouts of ‘Move out of the way, you silly cow!’, ‘Oy, move it, woman!’

At the end of the row I feel a rush of bodies coming towards me. My way is barred. Panic engulfs me as the crush gets stronger. I can’t breathe.

‘Are you okay?’

There’s a hand on my arm. I look up and see a man in a red baseball cap. He has large blue eyes and a bright-red scar running from his left eye to his mouth. I look at him for a moment, try to speak, but no words will come.

‘Vanessa, come on.’

Connor grabs my arm from behind and pulls me through the crowd. When we reach the exit he turns to me and shakes his head.

‘Did you really have to do that?’ he says angrily. ‘The fight was finished. There was no need to make a scene.’