Kneeling, she pushed it down as if she could make herself heavier. There wasn’t a bolt on the inside. She reached over her head and braced her arms against the slanting beam above her. The only light was from the small gash in the plasterboard, where Alex said he’d put his foot.

She waited. She heard the clicks of the catches on the snake trap. She listened, in the heat, straining her ears over the viscous silence. She heard an engine on the road. But it faded. Then his fist thumped the trapdoor, two loud bangs, shaking the wood, like a child’s game. She braced herself against the rafter.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ she said.

The ladder squeaked, the trapdoor heaved. She heard him grunt. Light came in around the hatch. She was lifted, tilting, and she flung herself off, squashing herself between the joists, splinters and dry rough wood. He grabbed her ankle and she pulled away, but then he was up there with her. He grabbed her arm. She pulled. More strength than she knew she had. She felt his nails break her skin. She thought he’d rip her bicep from the bone. He had another hand on her. He grabbed her hair. He gripped her neck. She clawed, swiping at the empty air. Suddenly he stopped, and let her go. She fell and pressed herself down between the joists.

‘Get up,’ he said.

He bent over her. He had to dig and wriggle and force his hands underneath her body. He couldn’t get a grip. Her skirt tore at the waist, buttons ripped. She gripped the joists with raw fingers, eyes screwed shut, but he got her by the leg and lifted. Her hip was wrenched and the terror of her legs opening wide in front of him made her struggle. Once she was fighting, he could bend her. He flipped her over and grabbed her shoulders. She tried to kick. She could knock him down with a hard kick to his groin, she could fell him, he’d be breathless. She could cause him pain and wound him. She kicked, hard, wildly, but he got down with her and knelt on her and she couldn’t get her hands to his face.

He was calm. He had a good hold of her now. He hoisted her up. Unbalanced by her writhing, he staggered in the dark. At the open trapdoor, without bending, he dropped her from a height, head first to the floor below. She fell haphazardly, like a corpse, on her shoulder and her head. Blind and bright, the pain struck. She couldn’t breathe. The floor was nothing, nor the air. She seemed to float. Then he was standing over her.

‘What are you doing?’ he said.