WHUMPH.

Bailey jerked convulsively as a bullet slammed through the door and hit the side of the bath with a deafening clang.

‘Isabel!’ she gasped. She peered into the bath.

Isabel looked up at her with wide eyes. She was okay. The bathtub had stopped the bullet.

Jesus, the neighbours must surely be wondering what was going on in here.

With extra haste, Bailey staggered to her feet. Her fingers trembling, she took one end of the lead and tied the exposed copper wires around the brass door handle on the inside of the bathroom door.

Still holding the lead, she then climbed up onto the edge of the bath, balancing precariously, fully exposed to any further gunshots which might come through the door.

Would the lead be long enough? Please let it be long enough.

She pulled it upwards. It stretched taut from the door handle to the light socket. It reached. Just.

Standing almost on her tiptoes on the edge of the bath, she unscrewed the smoked-glass light covering to expose the bare bulb beneath. She let the covering drop. It shattered on the hard surface of the bathroom floor.

‘What are you getting up to in there, Bailey?’ shouted Dale.

She ignored him.

WHUMPF. Another bullet crashed through the door and smashed into the wall, sending a spray of tile fragments over her and Isabel.

That was close. Too close. That one had passed maybe five centimetres from her right hip.

‘Keep your head down, Isabel!’ she urged.

How many bullets had he fired now? She was starting to lose count. She desperately tried to recall. Glancing at the door, she frantically started to count the holes. There were ten holes in the door. Ten bullets fired. Plus those two he’d used on Frank. That made twelve he’d fired in total. Which meant he had three left.

As Bailey looked at the door, she realised with concern that sooner or later he’d be able to see through the bullet holes and see what she was doing. She had to get a move on.

With shaking fingers, she unscrewed the light bulb and it dropped to the floor, where it smashed. The bathroom instantly fell into darkness.

‘Why have you turned the light off, Bailey?’

WHUMPF. The bullet grazed her left thigh with a searing heat. She gasped in pain, almost toppling off the side of the bath.

‘Being in the dark isn’t going to protect you,’ he shouted.

She stretched upwards, wincing at the pain in her leg. Holding the lead by its rubber coating, she plunged the exposed copper wires into the empty light socket, taking care not to touch either them or the socket with her bare flesh.

And there she held it, stretching it tight from the door handle to the socket, balancing on the edge of the bath, wavering slightly, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, and waiting for the next shot to come through the door. She imagined the bullet hitting her square in the guts, shredding her intestines. Or maybe it would hit her in the head and blow half her skull away. Or maybe it would just rip her jaw off. She pushed the horrible thoughts out of her mind.