The hall was in darkness as Jane slowly started to move, step by step, down the stairs. She stopped as she heard a sound coming from the kitchen, as if whoever was in the house had knocked into a chair or the kitchen table. Someone was definitely down there but the phone in the dark hall was too far away for her to be able to use. Trying to determine where would be the safest place for her to hide, she slowly retraced her way back up the stairs and across the landing. She eased open the bathroom door, the only room in the house with a lock. Just as she closed the door, she heard the footsteps on the uncarpeted staircase. Whoever it was was now making no attempt to be quiet. She heard her bedroom door being kicked open, then the click of the light switch and what sounded like heavy breathing.
As she listened to the sound of things being thrown around in her bedroom she tried hard to keep the panic from rising, breathing deeply and hunting for anything in the bathroom that she could use to protect herself — but no tools had been left behind and there was nothing else to hand. Jane could hear the footsteps coming closer and then, terrifyingly, she saw the handle of the bathroom door turning. When it rattled in the lock, the door was kicked hard to force it open.
Jane snatched up a big bath towel and as the door burst open she threw it over the intruder, pushing him backwards with all her strength. He lost his footing and stumbled as she wrapped the towel around his head, but she knew she only had a few seconds to get to the stairs, hoping to run down to the front door and out of the house before he caught up with her. She raced out of the bathroom but as soon as her feet hit the stairs, she felt the ground give way beneath and she hurtled down the stairs, falling head over heels and cracking her head on the newel post at the bottom.
Everything went black, and then Jane, barely conscious, felt herself being lifted. She tried to scream but it was painful even to breathe. She heard the door into her living room being kicked open as she was carried in.
She could smell the dust sheet enveloping her as she was laid down on the sofa, and slowly came to her senses.
For the first time, she heard voices.
‘Dear God, what have you done to her?’
‘I just wanted to talk to her... then she came at me. I didn’t touch her! I swear I didn’t do anything to her... she just fell down the fucking stairs.’
‘Get away from her, and get me some wet towels. How could you be so stupid?’
Jane tried to see who was talking but was unable to lift her head.
‘You’ll be all right, dear, just lie still.’
Jane’s eyes fluttered half open and she smelled Beatrice’s sickly-sweet perfume as she leaned over and felt for her pulse, the tell-tale jangle of her charm bracelet being the final clue to her identity.
Jason handed his mother a soaking wet tea towel which she rolled up and placed over Jane’s forehead. Jane began breathing deeply in an attempt to stem the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.
‘See if you can find some brandy.’
‘Where do I find that? The place doesn’t look lived in.’
‘Kitchen... go and look in the kitchen.’
Beatrice held Jane’s hand, gently patting it and then pressing the cold cloth around Jane’s face as she began to try and move.
‘Just stay quiet, you’ll be all right. It was an accident; he didn’t mean to hurt you. Can you hear me, dear?’
‘Yes... yes,’ Jane whispered.
Jason returned with a half-full bottle of whisky and an empty glass.
‘There’s no brandy,’ he said.
‘Pour some into the glass and hand it to me.’
Beatrice gently put an arm around Jane’s shoulder and eased her up to a sitting position. She opened her eyes, and her head began to clear.
‘Just take a sip of this, dear... gently does it, just a little sip... good girl. I’m going to help you sit up a little bit more.’
Jane could feel the rim of the glass against her teeth as she took small sips, and gradually her breathing calmed.
‘I just wanted to talk to her... I never meant anything like this to happen. I swear, she just fell.’ Jason took a deep swig straight from the bottle. He was shaking badly and sounded near to tears.
‘Stay back, Jason. Go and sit down. You could have killed her.’
‘But it was an accident... you told me to go in and talk to her.’
‘Shut up, just shut up!’ Beatrice whispered furiously. She gave Jane a few more sips of whisky and helped her to sit up straighter.
‘Can you see clearly now, dear?’
Jane was still dazed. ‘Yes...’
‘Have you any pain in your chest?’
Beatrice began to feel Jane’s arms, patting gently and then leaning over to feel down her legs.
‘Nothing hurts... no broken bones. You just banged your head, but you’ll feel better in a minute.’
Beatrice threw the tea towel at Jason. ‘Go and get some ice and wrap it in that.’
Jane kept her eyes closed. She had a thudding headache, but her main concern was whether she had done something to her neck; it felt painful if she moved her head.
Beatrice stood over her, draining the whisky left in the glass in one swallow. It felt like an age before Jason came back with the ice but Jane felt almost instant relief when it was gently wrapped around her neck. She kept her eyes closed as she tried to figure out what to do. Happily the panic had subsided, mostly because of Beatrice’s soothing manner, talking to her as if nothing untoward had happened.
Yet they had broken into her house and Jason had forced his way into the bathroom, terrifying her. Jane tried to think why they were willing to take such risks, intuitively sensing that Jason, despite his protestations to the contrary, was still dangerous. Beatrice took Jane’s hand again and felt for her pulse, then stroked her forehead.
‘I’m used to looking after my son, Matthew. He often used to fall. I’ve had to nurse him all his life, so I know what I’m doing, dear. I’ll keep on making ice compresses for your neck. Can you sit up now?’
Jane kept her eyes closed, not wanting either of them to know she was fully conscious.
Beatrice got up. ‘Stop pacing up and down, Jason. Go and get some more ice, because if she doesn’t come round soon, we’ll have to call an ambulance.’
‘We can’t do that,’ Jason whined.
‘Then what do you think we should do? Can’t you get it into your head what you have done? Did you find what we came here for?’ she then added in a whisper.
‘I think so. These papers were on the bed. They’ve got names and dates of birth...’
Beatrice snatched the sheets from him. ‘I knew she had them, I just knew it!’
Jane heard them both walk out of the room and opened her eyes, scanning her surroundings for anything she could use as a weapon. There were numerous work tools on the seat of a straight-backed chair, including a thin-bladed chisel for stripping wallpaper. Leaning over the arm of the sofa, Jane was able to reach out for it, snatch it up and hide it in the fold of the dust sheet. Beatrice and Jason were still in the kitchen talking, the fridge door opening and closing as Beatrice’s voice became increasingly shrill.
‘Just leave. I mean it... just get out and let me talk to her. Go back to the hotel and wait for me. Just give me time to explain everything.’