Maggie closed her eyes and kept them tightly shut. The blood roared through her ears, and she desperately wanted to dive into the patterns in front of her eyelids and never emerge. She counted the seconds of minute after minute, not moving, her body solid and feeling as if it were suspended from the heavy hook still scoring her insides.

She let the room back in thirty minutes later, knew she couldn’t physically wait any longer. There had been no sound from upstairs since Janet had returned to the bedroom. If she had a baby, there was every chance it might start crying and then she would have to count all over again.

She turned from the pram and walked stiffly to the door. As she put her palm on the handle the rubber of her glove squeaked. Maggie slowly depressed it and the lock softly clicked out of the frame. She allowed it to swing to her before gently pulling it open.

The hallway smelt more like cooking than the kitchen. The aroma was good, like cookies, like home. It couldn’t have been further removed from what she was about to do.

The landing light illuminated all the flecks of dirt and fluff on the oatmeal stair carpet. Maggie crossed the worn blue hallway rug and put her foot on the first step. She shifted her weight onto it and waited for the wood to groan underneath her. It was silent. Lightly grabbing the handrail she painstakingly climbed, resisting the temptation to accelerate and testing each stair before continuing.

The seventh had a loose board. It began to creak as she pressed on it with her right foot, so she gripped the rail harder and stepped over it, stretching her leg to assess the next. That one was fine, so she dragged herself up. But the action put all her weight on her toes, and the wood cracked loudly.

Maggie stayed stock still, listening for movement above. She didn’t budge for a few minutes, even after she was sure she hadn’t woken Janet. Only four stairs left. It took her another minute to ascend those, and she tentatively probed the landing before she settled both her feet there.

To her right was the bathroom door, slightly ajar. To her immediate left was what she assumed was the sealed one to Janet’s bedroom. Before that was a door with one word written on it.

It was written in the eyes of a row of frogs sitting along a lily pad. Maggie tried to avert her gaze as she turned towards Janet’s bedroom and put her hand on the knife handle in her jacket pocket. But as she reached it she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from looking inside the nursery.

She listened at Janet’s door and heard a very definite sound of snoring coming from within. Just peek in Daniel’s room for a couple of seconds…

Why was she doing this? How could this make the task she had any easier? But Maggie needed to see Janet’s child. Not out of curiosity, but because she wanted to remind herself of what she was sacrificing of her own if she didn’t do what Babysitter told her to do.

She put her fingers on the panel and softly pushed. The aroma from inside had already reached her. But here it was undiluted; the smell of the sleeping baby triggering a reaction in her she hoped would act as a catalyst. The atmosphere in the nursery was like a vicarious shot, an intoxicating hit that sparked a procession of intense emotions.

Where was Penny sleeping now? How could she possibly allow her to be in danger for a second longer than she needed to be?

Maggie could see the crib in the nightlight that projected tiny stars and constellations onto the wall and ceiling. Daniel was breathing shallowly on his side, turned away from her. She didn’t want to see his face. Just needed to make sure he was fast asleep. She could call the police anonymously from a payphone afterwards. Say she’d heard a disturbance. That way they’d find Daniel. Probably before he’d even woken up.

She pulled herself out of the room and leaned against the wall outside, breathing in the cooler air there. Maggie wanted to wake now. She’d had countless nightmares when she’d done something unspeakable, and the relief she’d experienced when she’d opened her eyes was like that bad chunk of her suddenly evaporating. That wasn’t going to happen now.

But she repeated what she’d said to herself since she’d been waiting in the car outside. This wasn’t about her. This was only about Penny. She was an instrument of her freedom.

The key to Penny’s cage.

Maggie slid the carving knife out of her pocket. It was Babysitter’s stipulation.

The acid rose in her throat as she felt its weight in her clenched fist. ‘Pull the door, walk quickly into the room, cover Janet’s mouth and push the blade up under the ribcage.’ That’s how Babysitter had told her to do it. ‘Jab the blade there three or four times to make sure you cut through the muscle.’

Maggie slowly filled her lungs, kept the air hissing in until she imagined them solid inside her. She was gripping the knife so tight the tops of her right fingers had started to go numb. Maggie tensed her calves in readiness.

Above the clamour of her circulation, she noticed the snoring had ceased. Momentarily, she hung back straining for sounds that Janet was still asleep. But Maggie couldn’t delay any longer. She had to go now or she knew her conscience would prevent her.

Pressing the handle all the way she swung her arm in with the door, took three paces through it and turned to the bed. The duvet was gathered in the middle of the mattress and nightlights were switched on at both sides. Maggie squinted against them and tried to make out what position Janet was in.

She could discern a shape under the quilt and quickly estimated the situation. There were two people in the bed; she could see four legs entwined.

Maggie didn’t dare to blink but stood transfixed, waiting for one of them to wake and sit up.

One of their shallow breaths faltered, and Maggie considered darting back to the door. But neither of the naked forms moved. Maggie had watched the house for hours. She’d only seen Janet come home mid-afternoon. The man had already been there.

There was no way she could continue now. She couldn’t be expected to kill both of them. If she stabbed one surely the other would attack. She lingered there for a few seconds longer, watching the duvet constantly rising and falling with their combined, out-of-sync breaths.

Maggie slid the knife swiftly back into the pocket of her Parka and crept from the room. She gritted her teeth, ready for a commotion behind her as they registered her presence, but none came.

She pulled the door shut quietly behind her and made her way back down the stairs, carefully treading on the parts she’d memorised when she’d ascended them. When she was in the hallway Maggie knew there was nothing more she could do but that she couldn’t just walk out of the house. She stepped into the darkened lounge, delicately closed the glass door and messaged Babysitter.

There are two people asleep in the bedroom.

Maggie girded herself in readiness for his command to head back upstairs.

She looked at the clock of her cell: 2:49 a.m. Plenty of hours until sunrise.

He made her wait until 2:52 before he answered.

That will get very messy. Get yourself out of there, Maggie. Quickly.