‘You didn’t want them any more! Don’t pretend that by scaring you off, I wasn’t doing you a favour. And I don’t have those things. Miles fired me. Marcus got bored. Turns out no one liked the new Nora. Now I have nothing. And you’ve ended up, yet again, with everything. So there’s no point trying to ruin your life, you’ll just get yourself a new one. I’m ending it.’

‘Lucy, please…’

‘Stop talking!’ She sized up the nearest farm implements to her, before taking hold of the huge garden fork.

‘No, wait…’

‘Shut up!’ Lucy dropped her phone, and in the dim light cast from where it lay on the floor, I saw her shove a pallet out of her path, clamber over the lawnmower and launch herself across the short distance still between us.

Along with freaking out and bracing myself for the prongs, I somehow found the presence of mind to dodge to one side and grab something to block her follow-up thrust.

I’d seized a soggy, rotten cardboard box. I might as well have plucked a fistful of cobwebs from the shelf. The fork instantly tore through the sagging card, and Lucy flicked it away.

I took an automatic few steps back, before my back smacked against another shelving unit, causing the glass contents to rattle dangerously. A couple of bottles toppled off and smashed, tiny shards catching in the glow of the phone.

Glancing either side, I realised how stupid I’d been. I could just about make out a huge, menacing-looking metal contraption on my right. On my left were the pallets, stacked haphazardly about waist high, two deep and at least five long. Scrambling across them would be slow and clumsy, and I’d be an easy target for my attacker.

For a millisecond, I wondered about using one of the pallets as a shield, at least until I could reconsider my escape route, but before I could reach down to haul one off the pile, Lucy, grunting with effort, held her weapon aloft and jabbed it straight towards my head.

Adrenaline powering my reflexes, I twisted to one side, and as the fork thrust past, I somehow managed to grab the wooden handle. Holding on for dear life, we wrestled and thrashed for control. In the confined space it was inevitable that the more we fought to get the larger portion of the handle, the closer to each other we got. Within what must have been seconds, but felt like hours, we were right up against each other. Lucy’s breath was hot against my neck, and I inhaled the reek of her sweat and fury. She wasn’t the only one sweating – my hands were starting to slip precariously down the handle, until they hit against the prongs.

I took a moment to focus on my breathing, sucking in as much air as my heaving lungs could manage before releasing it in a scream that bounced off the bottles and echoed through the darkness. No one would hear me – unless they happened to be walking around this side of the farm. But it was loud enough to rattle Lucy, and she momentarily relaxed her grip enough for me to wrest the fork out of her hands.