Stepping a few inches closer to her, lowering his head to look fiercely into her eyes, he began to recite his vows.

‘I, Fergus, take thee, Elspeth Brenda, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer …’

Fergus? Elspeth racked her brains. She’d never met anyone called Fergus, not even heard the name in the context of a friend. And yet he knew her middle name. Did he know it was her grandmother’s name? Did he also know that her grandmother, Brenda, had been an unstoppable woman who’d never accepted what she’d been told was her place? Brenda would have done something. She’d have talked this man – this Fergus – into releasing her, or beaten him into submission. And what was she doing? Playing weddings with a maniac. Elspeth did her best to breathe but the air was poison. Now, he was smiling at her. Actually smiling. Waiting for her to say something. She couldn’t understand what.

‘I’ll help you,’ he said. ‘Repeat after me … I, Elspeth, take thee, Fergus …’

‘I, Elspeth …’ she muttered, glancing around again.

Had she lost her mind? Were there people watching them who she simply couldn’t see?

‘Say the words. Say the words. Say them, say them, say them.’ He fist-hammered the wall to punctuate each syllable, throwing his head back and opening his mouth to its most extreme cavity before letting loose a feral scream from the depths of his throat.

Elspeth covered her mouth with one hand, tried not to scream in response. She shuffled backwards as he swayed on his feet, his whole head tipped back as if he could consume his rage whole. The purpling skin of his cheeks swelled, and he growled and howled, still thumping the wall, shifting from one foot to the other.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to unsee the lashing tongue and ground-down back teeth. It was time to save herself.

‘I, Elspeth, take thee, Fergus,’ she said, the words a mush amid her sobs. Again. ‘I, Elspeth, take thee, Fergus.’ That was better. Louder, clearer.

He stopped howling and just stood, mouth still a gaping hole aimed towards the ceiling, swaying on his feet. But he was listening now.

‘To be my wedded husband,’ she said.

Fergus’ mouth began to close and his chin dropped. His eyeballs were still playing pinball in their sockets, and his breathing was ragged and harsh, but – to quote a phrase Elspeth’s husband loved – he was back in the room.

‘To have and to hold, from this day forward,’ Elspeth said. She reached out her hand, hating herself for weakness, for complying, but knowing saving herself this way was probably all she could do. ‘For better for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health.’