Betsy’s cries were frantic and it was this, her child’s distress, that gave her a burst of superhuman strength. From somewhere she found the power to push at him so ferociously that – perched as he was on the edge of the bed straddling her – he lost his balance and went catapulting backwards with a crash that shook the house.

Her only thought was to get to Betsy before he came at her again. Whimpering, she scrambled off the bed and fled out of the room. Once on the landing she saw he must have shut the door of Betsy’s bedroom before he came in to her. Opening it, she almost knocked her daughter off her feet – the toddler must have been on the other side – and scooping the hysterical infant into her arms, she murmured, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, hinny, Mam’s here.’

She had been expecting him to follow her but as Betsy’s sobs died away all was quiet. She waited a full ten minutes before cautiously opening the little girl’s door again. Everything was completely still.

It took her a while to settle Betsy back in bed but eventually the child was asleep, her rag doll tucked under one small arm. Rose stood by the side of the bed for some time after that, wondering whether to investigate further or just stay where she was. She hurt all over and the muscles and tendons in her neck were screaming, the ache between her legs where he’d forced himself into her making her want to wash herself to get rid of any particle of him.

The utter silence in the house after what had happened disturbed her. Picking up the heavy brass candlestick from the windowsill of Betsy’s room, she ventured cautiously onto the landing, ready to use it as a weapon if he was trying to trick her.

In the moonlight streaming into the room between the open curtains she saw his legs first from the doorway, and then, as she tentatively crept further forwards, she saw what had happened. The miller was lying on his back, the way he must have landed, and he’d fallen into the small fireplace with its portcullis fender. One of the pointed lead finials had pierced his skull, judging by the dark pool of blood surrounding his head.

Steeling herself, her heart pounding so hard it actually hurt, she inched closer until she reached the body. His eyes were open and unblinking, his mouth agape in what almost looked like surprise. He was dead. Rose made a small incoherent sound in her throat.