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I buckle in as Daisy turns on the ignition, Mrs Anderson buzzing in my mind. What on earth was she doing here at this time of the morning? Unless… ‘Daisy,’ I say, as she pulls away with a hurried jerk. ‘Did you call your auntie at all tonight?’

‘Aunt Tina?’ Daisy yawns as she flips on the indicator at the end of the road, head swivelling from left to right. ‘No. Why?’

Perhaps I was mistaken. It is late, I am traumatised, not to mention absolutely shattered. Mrs Anderson isn’t the only sixty-something woman driving a green Mini Cooper. It’s almost four in the morning. Still dark. People will be heading off to work, or the gym, or coming home from a late shift. It could’ve been anyone. ‘It’s nothing,’ I reply in a yawny voice as we turn onto the High Road.’ It’s true what they say, yawning is contagious. ‘Listen, Daisy, I’d appreciate your discretion on this. It’s just that Tom can get a bit…’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Daisy says before I can finish.

‘Thank you.’

Daisy nods, eyes on the road, clasping the steering wheel with locked arms, and then suddenly her eyes widen. ‘There,’ she exclaims. My head almost does a ninety-degree turn. ‘By the cash machine. Behind us.’ She darts a look at her rear view. ‘It’s him. Quick.’ She’s right. I’d recognise that beanie hat and V-shaped body anywhere.

We pull up hurriedly outside a pound saver shop as I fidget in my seat with urgency, as if I’m sitting on nettles, eager to leap out of the car and race after him before he gets away. I unbuckle my seatbelt just as Daisy pulls on the handbrake. ‘Wait here,’ I instruct. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

‘Shall I ring the police?’ Daisy asks, panting. ‘He’s obviously trying to steal money from Zelda’s account.’

‘No,’ I yell. ‘I mean, not yet. Just stay put. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

I rip along the pavement, flip-flops flapping against my feet, pulling Tom’s dressing gown around me. The knot I tied has loosened and I’m only wearing a flimsy nightdress underneath. Frank is standing in front of the hole in the wall, beanie hat pulled over his white hair. ‘Frank,’ I cry, ‘Please, I just want to –’

And as Frank turns to face me, the words die on my lips. He takes in the length of my body, blue eyes wide and wild. My face burns as I self-consciously fold the dressing gown around me. It isn’t him.

‘I’m…I’m…sorry.’ I begin. The man shifts forward, throwing me a lustful look. His ginger hair, which is sprouting from his black grubby beanie, is pasted to his leathered forehead. I inhale a fug of liquor, tobacco, and stale sweat. ‘Wrong person,’ I wheeze. I need my blue inhaler. Ginger man scratches his bristly cheek, eyes flitting to my breasts. No, no, it’s not my breasts. He’s eyeing my pockets; he can see the bulge of the letter-opener. He must think it’s a purse. I’ve got to get away from him. Fast. Backing away, I turn on my heel and start running, the T-bar of my flip-flops digging between my toes, slowing me down. Behind me, I hear the sound of footsteps. I flick a glance over my shoulder. He’s getting nearer.

‘Oi, you,’ he calls out, voice gruff.

I up my speed, eyes skimming around the dimly lit empty road lined with shops, desperately searching for Daisy’s blue Peugeot. A car horn blasts in the distance and I jump. I can hear ginger-man’s urgent footfall. How many women are murdered on their way home after a night out? Am I about to become another statistic? Panic steers my limbs around a parked car. Damn it, Daisy, where the hell are you? And just then a car horn hoots again, followed by a blinding beam of headlights flashing. It’s Daisy. She’s parked further along than I thought. Daisy is now out of the car, arms flaying in the air, beckoning me to hurry up.

‘Daisy,’ I scream. My dressing gown has now completely opened and is ballooning around my scantily clad body. I flick a glance over my shoulder and see a blur of the ginger-haired man, bent over, catching his breath.

‘Hurry,’ Daisy shouts, ‘Get in.’

But as I reach the car, my knees give, legs wobbly. Daisy is now looking past me, horrified. Her hands fly to her mouth as a big hand clamps around my shoulder. Ginger-man pants. Daisy screams. I lose my footing. There’s a crunch as my face hits the pavement. And then there’s darkness.