She stopped, wiped a stream of tears from both eyes, blew her nose and wiped her eyes again. ‘I’m so sorry, Eleanor. This is totally my fault.’

‘Er, excuse me?’ I said, trying to heave myself up into a sitting position, and ending up sliding several inches further down the bed. ‘You didn’t do this. You didn’t even make her do this. The two Noras are completely to blame.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Yes, but I’m going to get really angry if you even hint at being in any way responsible for that woman’s crazed campaign of revenge. And that will make my head hurt even more, which will be your fault. Now, please carry on.’

‘Okay.’ She rubbed her face, gave her head a brisk shake and carried on. ‘We’d all spread out, looking for you. Other people were busy tidying up and sorting everything out. Daniel had stayed by the farmhouse, in case you came back – and because he wanted to be near Hope. Then he heard you scream, and got there just as Nora was about to… well. Do something horrible. She was startled and you fell backwards. Your head smashed into the concrete floor.’

‘So that explains the thumping headache.’

‘You’ve also hurt your knee, and are covered in bruises and cuts. Oh…’ Her eyes filled with tears again, as she gently stroked my hair. ‘That monster pulled out a chunk of your hair.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘She’s been arrested. Daniel restrained her while he waited for the police.’

‘It was all her?’

‘Looks like it. The Bee Murderer is vanquished. The queens and their boys can rest in peace, and so can you.’

Not likely. Becky was ushered out soon after that, but the last thing I felt was peaceful.

I hadn’t asked her where Daniel was, why he wasn’t here. I had a fairly good idea every time I remembered the look of revulsion on his face.

I tried to start thinking up a plan, but my thoughts were a jumbled mess, and before I could process more than a few disjointed phrases about ‘sort business,’ ‘new place to live,’ ‘pack,’ ‘car,’ I had forgotten what I was trying to think about.

Later that afternoon a nurse came to give me a thorough inspection, and straight after they’d brought me a plate of flavourless mush and a tub of ice cream, my phone – thoughtfully left on the scruffy bedside table – rang.

I snatched it up, my anxious, hopeful heart plummeting back into disappointment when I saw it was my parents. Not that I was sorry to hear from them – their brusque, matter-of-fact manner was as comforting as a cosy blanket and a mug of cocoa.

‘Your friend said you’ve been in an accident, but you’re okay.’

‘Yes,’ I whispered, my throat contracting with unshed tears.

‘Nothing broken, no permanent damage, just plenty of rest and as much time as it takes.’

‘I think so.’

‘Sounds like you’d better come home. We’ve made up Goosander, and don’t worry about getting here, we’ll book a taxi.’