For a moment, Kate nearly allowed herself to slip into autopilot. The temptation to submit and roll over like a frightened puppy was strong. But that was the old Kate. That was the woman who hadn’t wanted to hear about the monsters under the bed, the woman who let the men in her life show her what to do and when to do it.

She had tried never to think about death, but the few times she had, she’d decided that when it came it should feel like an ellipsis: a gentle trailing off of a sentence. It should be a whisper of words, a padding of gentle footsteps. This, being killed by a deranged middle-aged woman, felt too sudden, too mad. This couldn’t be how it ended.

She thought about Mia, could almost see her face, almost hear her voice.

Mum? the voice said.

Yes, monkey?

Be a big girl.

Kate rocked hard in her chair and toppled backwards onto the tiles. She scrambled back, clasping at the wet blood seeping from the gash on her arm. Abby came towards her fast, the blade of her knife aimed directly outwards like a fencing sword. Her eyes were deep and lost, and mad. They seemed to say, Orpheus was torn to shreds by vicious, hungry beasts.

Kate pulled herself to her feet and reached blindly upwards, groping at the pots and pans that hung from the ladder like stalactites. Her hand found the handle of a saucepan. She yanked it down and tossed it at Abby, who covered her face with her elbow and braced for impact. She needn’t have bothered. Kate was a terrible shot. The saucepan whipped past her, shattering the door of the microwave.

Then, Abby was right in front of Kate, punching her in the chest, in the shoulder, in the belly. There was no pain – adrenalin had flooded her system – so it took her a few moments to understand what was happening. Abby wasn’t punching her. She was stabbing her. Thrusting in and out, in and out, so many times that Kate lost count.

The blade was only short, but soon Kate’s white shirt was covered in growing spots of red. She looked at her winter parka hanging on her chair. She wished she had kept it on. It wouldn’t have stopped the attack entirely but might have served as armour.