‘Listen to me. I know he looks like a reed in a storm, but he’s strong. He carried me up here. I play his game because that keeps me safer until I can figure something else out. I think you should do the same. I know I’m an adult, and I know I should have better answers for you than these, but I just don’t. Because he’s not right, Meggy. He’s not. I can’t even explain it to you. I promise I’ll try to protect you, but you have to help me. You can’t wind him up and get into a fight with him.’

‘If he touches me, I’ll kill him.’

‘I understand that,’ Elspeth said. ‘Maybe we’ll get an idea for a plan really soon.’

‘We have to keep trying,’ Meggy said. ‘You can’t just give in. I’ll be good if we can work out a way to escape.’

‘Deal,’ Elspeth said, opening her arms.

Meggy stepped into them, and they held each other as they cried, while beyond the door, at the bottom of the staircase, Fergus Ariss lay close to death.

Chapter Thirteen

Since regaining consciousness, Fergus had managed to crawl to his bedroom, but getting himself into bed had proved too much. The upper half of his body was flopped face down on the bed, knees remaining stubbornly on the floor. Neither arms nor legs were broken, in spite of the felled tree noises as he’d tumbled down step after excruciating step. His head was a different matter. The first four blows were memorable, but after that he’d lost count. There were broken fingers on his right hand, and the seat of his trousers was bloody. He could feel the cold damp starting to stiffen in the seat of his underwear. The origins of that didn’t bear thinking about.

With no clear idea of how long he’d been unconscious, he had only the darkness to guide him. He’d been intending to fix some food for the woman and girl upstairs while they got acquainted. All they had in the flat was bread and snacks. Fergus tried to raise his head from the duvet and the cotton lifted up with his face. It took all his strength to use two unbroken fingers to peel himself free of the material. The world turned red.