I bend away from the wall and she crouches down beside me and slices through the cable tie. I take the cutters from her and do the same to my feet.
‘Mummy.’ Her lower lip trembles.
‘Shh.’
I put my finger to my lips, listening for Amber. I pull off my shirt and use it to staunch Tom’s blood, praying it’s not too late. While I work, I issue instructions.
‘I want you to listen very carefully, Emily. I want you to stay with Daddy and keep both your hands pressed on his tummy. Here’ – I place her hands over the damp shirt – ‘as hard as you can. That’s right. I’m going to go upstairs and phone the police. I won’t be far, I promise. Will you be very brave and do as I ask?’
‘Yes,’ she sniffs.
‘Good girl.’
I fold Tom into my arms. His head lolls forward. I feel frantically for a pulse but I can’t find one.
‘Is he dead?’ Emily cries.
‘No.’ I climb over him and go to the door, rattle the handle and push it. It’s locked. ‘Shit.’
The worst thing is happening: I’m beginning to break up in front of my daughter. I force myself to calm down. It’s not as if I’m not spoilt for tools. I find a claw-toothed hammer and force it between the door and the frame.
Emily is leaning over her father. She looks like she’s hugging him but she sits back up, slips her hand from under his hip and produces his phone.
‘It was in his jeans pocket.’
My laugh sounds more like a sob.
‘Good boy. Good Joshie.’
Katya bundles him up in his blanket and takes him downstairs. How has she got herself into this situation? She knows what’s happening now. Emily will have cut her mother free and Vicky will make short work of opening the door. Then she’ll come for her with some sort of weapon. And even if she’s too incapacitated to manage that feat, dawn is breaking and Polly will be downstairs before long, wondering where everyone is. And Tom said his sister was expected in the afternoon. She closes her eyes and hums a lullaby. Josh’s weight melts against her. His warmth, his heartbeat, his gentle breath relaxing as he goes back to sleep, is a comfort to her. He at least trusts her. She must be doing something right.
Time to leave. She tries to unfold Josh’s pram, fighting with it, pushing her foot on the hinge and tugging at the handles, but it’s been four years since Sophie was in one and she’s lost the skill. Josh’s is one of those expensive, complicated affairs that are easy once you know how. She doesn’t know how and she doesn’t want to put the baby down.
‘Amber!’
She swivels round. Vicky is standing by the kitchen door, a hammer in her hand. They stare at each other. Katya holds Josh protectively in front of her.
‘You shouldn’t have left him,’ she says, reaching behind her to open the door.
‘Give him to me.’
Katya shakes her head. ‘You don’t understand how precious he is. You don’t appreciate anything.’
‘Amber,’ Vicky says slowly. ‘Put him down or I will hurt you.’
Katya watches as Vicky suddenly slumps against the wall. Her fingers loosen round the hammer and it falls to the floor. Vicky takes a step forward but it’s as though she’s drunk. She holds out her hand, baffled, and slowly collapses to her knees.
Katya doesn’t wait. She leaves the house with Josh wrapped in his pale-blue blanket and sets off at a brisk walk, only slowing to catch her breath once she’s turned the corner. There’s a mist hanging over the Common and the light is incredible. She looks back the way she came. Two people are following her; a man and a woman, their figures shimmering in the morning haze. A jogger runs past her with a muscular, whip-tailed Weimaraner at his heels. The dog stops and sniffs at Katya’s leg then catches up with his master. She looks behind her. They haven’t gone away. Their eyes are dark holes in their blank faces. Luke and Linda. She knows she’s hallucinating, but even so it feels like a threat.
She picks up her pace, turns into Tennyson Street and half runs past the closed shops. Outside Johnson Lane she pauses to catch her breath and darts a glance behind her. They’ve gone. She sighs with relief. Josh is growing heavy, so she puts her foot up on the window frame and rests his weight on her knee. Her desk is tidy, nothing left out, anonymous, ready for whoever comes to take her place. Pity. She enjoyed her job. She moves away, past the bookshop and the off-licence, the new shop selling upmarket women’s clothes and the children’s shoe shop. She remembers when she first came here, parking the car and crossing the road on to the Common. Vicky had talked about buying a house in the area and Katya wanted to see for herself. It was pretty and much quieter than Streatham and it lacked the buzz she liked, but at least it was alive, unlike Hillside Way. She had sat on one of the benches and watched people going about their daily lives, and decided she could force herself to live here. She remembers telling Robert that it would be a great place to bring up kids; that young families were colonizing the streets near the Common, lured by the green space and the excellent transport links to central London. A line she’s used on Johnson Lane’s customers ever since.
She glimpses a reflection and turns quickly. They’re just a symptom of stress and fear. Her mother – skinny, fine-boned Linda – stares back at her and for the first time Katya sees something of herself. It’s in her eyes and the shape of her chin. She hurries on, crossing the road and taking the lane that leads to the station.
Josh is awake now, staring at her, his eyes big and bewildered. She can feel the tension gather in his body as she tries to reassure him.
A siren wails and she steps back, shielding herself from the road behind a parked van. Two squad cars race by, blue lights flashing, followed by an ambulance. She watches them until they turn at the traffic lights.
The station is open but the blind is pulled down on the ticket booth. She doesn’t bother with a ticket but takes the stairs over the railway line, to the platform for London-bound trains. Josh is crying, working himself up, angry more than anything.
‘Shh, Joshie,’ she says. ‘It’ll be all right.’