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It was like she was dreaming. Despite all the agony, all the despair of the last two years, here she was.

She was alive, she was happy, she’d survived .

Viyan felt as if she’d stumbled out of some subterranean cave into the light, suddenly blinded by its power, its life-affirming warmth.

Things that would be entirely normal to anyone else – a warm bed, a decent breakfast, privacy, safety – seemed utterly fantastical to her.

Yet here she was, revelling in these simple pleasures.

Once more, Viyan felt her chest burn, joy wrestling with sadness, hope with regret.

It had been the greatest experience of her life to see Defne, Aasmah and Salman staring down the shaking camera at her, giggling, tearful, excited, but it also underlined for her how much she’d missed.

Not just them growing up into spirited young children, but also the missed opportunities to hold them, to comfort them, to urge them to be strong.

There must have been endless challenges, numerous dark moments over the last couple of years, when they had longed for their mother’s presence.

Someone to kiss them, cuddle them and assure them that everything was going to be OK.

The mere thought of this made Viyan feel sick with guilt.

When she’d made the fateful decision to travel to England, she thought she’d had no alternative, so grave was their situation.

She was desperate, convinced her family would slowly starve to death if she didn’t do something.

How wrong she’d been. It would have been better – a thousand times better – to have stayed in Turkey, fighting to survive amidst the aftermath of the earthquake, rather than willingly walking into the hands of her abusers.

Still, that was behind her now. Although she’d refused all thoughts of charity, her rescuer was insisting on paying for her flight home, even offering to accompany her on the journey.

Viyan had no words to express her gratitude, simply sobbing out her joy on her hostess’s shoulder, but she knew she would accept her offer, the pull of seeing her beloved family too strong.

Before she did so, however, there was something she needed to do.

Despite her good fortune, Viyan had not forgotten her co-workers, indeed she shuddered at the thought of what her escape might mean for them.

Had they been punished for her boldness?

Had security been stepped up, their meagre comforts taken away?

She didn’t want them to suffer, nor would she turn her back on any of them.

Whilst she was still here, she would do everything in her power to free them and bring their abusers to justice.

Helen Grace was at the police station now, hopefully convincing them to take action, but whilst she waited she intended to use her time wisely.

Helen had managed to source her a pad and pencil from Eloise, the manageress of the refuge.

So, seated on the bed, Viyan began to draw, neatly sketching out the layout of the farm, highlighting the various different buildings, the loading bays, the washing facilities, even the hateful incinerator.

Viyan had always enjoyed drawing and was soon lost in her task, utterly absorbed in bringing to life the nightmare she’d been through.

Oddly, the experience was not troubling for her.

Wielding her pencil over the smooth white paper she suddenly felt as if she was in charge, as if she could use a rubber to wipe out her trauma, to erase faces, buildings, as if she was playing God.

If only things had been that easy during her lengthy captivity.

She was so lost in her task that it took a few seconds for the shriek of the alarm to jolt her out of her reverie.

Putting her pad down, Viyan rose sharply, suddenly very concerned.

Moving swiftly towards the door, she listened intently, trying to hear through the wailing siren, trying to work out what the hell was going on.

And now she smelt it – the unmistakable aroma of burning.

Panicked, Viyan pressed her eye to the spyhole.

Now she could see it too, wisps of dark smoke weaving their way towards the landing ceiling, dancing around the wailing smoke alarms. Suddenly her heart was in her mouth.

Had she escaped Hell simply to be plunged into burning fire?

The smoke seemed to be getting thicker, the situation more urgent.

Peering through the spyhole, Viyan saw the woman from the room opposite hurrying onto the landing, looking breathless and scared.

She seemed utterly bewildered, before heading quickly for the stairs, desperate not to be stuck at the top of a tall building during a fire.

Terrified, Viyan pulled away from her vantage point.

What should she do? She had promised not to open the door under any circumstances, but Helen could not have foreseen this.

Viyan had no mobile phone with which to summon her guardian angel, so what should she do?

Hurrying to the window, she looked down onto the street below, hoping to see Helen racing homeward.

But instead she clocked a growing body of women emerging from the building, gathering in concerned huddles in the street.

In the distance, Viyan could hear sirens.

A fire engine heading their way perhaps?

Turning, Viyan was alarmed to see a thin veil of smoke clinging to the ceiling of her bedroom now, the air pregnant with a nasty, acrid stench.

Summoning her courage, she raced back to the door.

There was no point letting her idle fears cost her her life, not after everything she’d been through.

So, checking once more that the landing was clear, she unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Liberated, she stepped forward, then immediately froze, shrieking with terror.

Naz, the man who’d tortured and humiliated her relentlessly for the last two years, had stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

‘Hello again, Viyan,’ he grinned wickedly.

Then he drove a fist into her stomach.