From the kitchen Maggie could see the weak light from the landing dimly illuminating the staircase through the glass panel of the lounge door. Her lips were sealed shut and breath whistled softly through her nostrils. The smells of the house were vivid – stale cooking and overpowering sandalwood air freshener – so potent she thought she might vomit again.

The house wasn’t in a very good neighbourhood, and she’d had to wait for kids playing on the waste ground around it to disperse before she could position herself at the back fence of the tiny yard.

Her black, slip-on canvas shoes came to a halt on the lounge carpet. Behind her the refrigerator suddenly kick-started and rattled whatever china was on top of it. The noise seemed deafening, and she almost turned around and strode back out the rear door she’d just entered.

Somebody moved across the top of the landing, their shadow briefly flitting over and darkening the bottom of the stairs. Maggie’s heart stalled. Janet Braun was up. Even though Maggie had seen the light go out just after midnight and had waited over two hours, the girl was awake. Was it because she’d heard Maggie break the glass of the back door?

She waited, rigid, anticipating her coming down the stairs or the sound of her calling the police. But she couldn’t hear a panicked voice on the phone.

A flush hissed.

The shadow briefly blocked the light from the landing again, and Maggie discerned a door softly close shut. She took a breath. But now Janet would be awake. If she’d given in to the temptation of entering earlier, she probably would have been in a deeper sleep. It was how Maggie wanted to find her – oblivious to her presence so she could push the knife into her chest and cover her mouth at the same time.

Should she wait now? Give her an hour before going up there? Maggie could just make out the top edge of the couch from the light spilling in from upstairs. She headed for it and flinched silently as her shin struck the hard edge of the coffee table.

She paused, listening for signs of movement overhead and then slowly lowered herself onto the couch. It was leather and creaked as it gradually took her weight. Maggie eventually settled herself but didn’t lean back. She unzipped her Parka to allow some air to her neck but kept her baseball cap on. Babysitter had advised her to wear headgear so no stray hairs escaped.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she immediately took it out. It was him:

?

She responded:

Have you fed Penny?

She’s asleep on my chest.

Maggie trembled with hatred. The notion of Penny’s face lying against the warmth of him, that her daughter’s tiny ear could probably hear the heartbeat of that monster, filled her with repulsion. Better she was rested there than he’d done anything to her though. That he’d harmed her in the ways he’d threatened. Or maybe she wasn’t. Perhaps he was just tormenting her.

Sunrise.

Was his one word of encouragement.

That was just before seven. Five hours to find the courage to go upstairs and push a knife into a complete stranger. Who was the woman in the bedroom and, if Babysitter was so capable of inflicting the violence he’d promised for Penny, why didn’t he kill Janet Braun himself?

Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness now and she took in the black TV screen hanging on the wall in front of her and the few shelves of indistinguishable ornaments either side of it. Then she saw the pram, and her stomach slid down inside her. Janet Braun was a mother too.

She rose so slowly from the couch that it didn’t make a sound. Then she carefully crossed the room, avoiding the coffee table so she could double-check. The pram juddered as her foot gently bumped it, and its tiny toys filled with beads rattled where they hung across the seat.

She asked herself why this would alter anything. She’d been prepared to stab another human being to save her child, someone who would be mourned by her family and friends. But it did make a significant difference to Maggie, and the concept of another defenceless child being put in jeopardy because of her actions revolted her.

How old was the child? Nausea rolled hard over her. But it wasn’t physical; this resonated through who she was. Something she’d been trying to forget, at least for the time she was inside the house. But Maggie knew that would be impossible now she had so much time to wait while Janet Braun fell asleep again.

She put her hand against the wall to steady herself. She was wearing clear surgical gloves. Babysitter had told her to buy them.

She’d asked him who Janet Braun was. Babysitter had replied: ‘The key to Penny’s cage.’

He’d told her something else about Janet. Something repellent. It was probably a lie to make her carry out his orders but that’s what she had to focus on now: Penny’s safety. Not the pram in front of her or the child who would lie inside it. They would be taken care of. When Maggie left their mother dead the child would still be safe, safer than Penny was right now, and young enough to sustain the shock of a mother’s removal. But Maggie’s rationalisation disgusted her. How would she live with this, even if Babysitter did give Penny back?

The truth of that was like a hook dragging through her. There was no guarantee that Penny would be returned. And the image that Babysitter had sent her was no assurance she was still alive.

The room spun, and Maggie gripped the edge of the pram with her other hand. What would Janet Braun do? If presented with the same stark choice, what course of action would she take? There was only one for any mother. Maggie asked herself which person she would rather be: the mother sleeping above or the one aware of what was about to happen.

Her insides roiled, and she felt as if she might suffocate if she didn’t immediately climb the stairs with the blade in her hand. But it had only been a matter of minutes since Janet had returned to bed and chances were she was still awake.

Maggie wondered if the baby slept in a crib in the bedroom with her. If Janet woke and screamed while Maggie stabbed her… She couldn’t have an infant present at the murder of their mother.

She pulled both her hands against her chest and clenched them tight. She had to rein in her panic. Breathing in through her nose she cracked her lips to release it and then took out her iPhone. She sent Babysitter a message.

Am in house. Janet Braun has a baby.

His reply was swift.

I know. Aren’t you grateful I’m not asking you to kill the child too?

Maggie typed a response.

Please, please don’t make me do this.

Sunrise.

Maggie barely restrained a sob from escaping.