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‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘Or I kill her.’

The man in the doorway – who’d said he was police, but was not wearing a uniform – shook his head.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘This is over. Put the knife down.’

The man drew the knife over her skin. She felt warm blood run down her neck and over her chest.

‘Jesus,’ the man in the doorway said. ‘You fucking fool.’

He stepped into the cabin and stood opposite the man.

‘My name is PC Oliver Reid. I—’

The man let go of her and lunged forward, slashing at the policeman with the knife. The PC dodged out of the way, then grabbed the man’s hand and bent it backwards at the wrist. There was a loud snap like a branch breaking and the man screamed.

Maggie backed away, holding Max, and watched as the policeman forced the man face down on the yellowing carpet.

‘Listen, mate,’ the policeman said. ‘I’m trained in this and you’re an old fella, so let’s be sensible, OK?’ He looked at Maggie. ‘Are you Maggie Cooper?’

She nodded. The policeman beckoned her towards him. He untied the gag, and, with the knife the man had held at her throat, cut through the rope binding her wrists and ankles.

‘And who’s this?’ he said.

‘My son. Max.’ It was the first time she had spoken to anyone other that Max, Seb, Leo or the man in over a decade. She could barely believe it was happening.

The policeman glanced at the man. ‘I see,’ he said. He nodded at a coil of green rope hanging on a hook by the sink. ‘Could you pass that to me?’

Maggie put Max down and got to her feet. As she did, the man twisted. There was another loud crack – something else breaking – and he screamed, but he managed to get on his back. He kicked the policeman hard in the stomach and, for a second, he was free.

It was enough. The man scrambled to his feet and grabbed Max, then clambered through the hatch and on to the deck of the boat.

Maggie

‘Max!’ Maggie shouted. ‘Max!’

The policeman jumped to his feet and followed the man outside. Maggie climbed out after him. She saw the man running down the towpath. She frowned. The policeman wasn’t chasing him. He was looking at the canal.

‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Fuck it.’

And then he jumped into the muddy brown water.

Maggie looked over the side of the boat and saw why. Max was in the canal, coughing and spluttering. The man had thrown him overboard. She watched as the policeman picked him up.

She turned. The man was about fifty yards away, running as fast as he could.

Which wasn’t very fast. He was limping badly. She looked at the policeman. Max was clinging to his neck, coughing.

‘Here,’ the policeman said, holding Max out. ‘Take him. I need to get after that bastard.’

‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll get him. I want him to know that after all these years, I still beat him.’

She made up the ground quickly. The man looked over his shoulder and tried to speed up, but it was pointless. She was much faster.

And then, without warning, he slowed to a walk.

A man and woman were walking towards him. They were in their late sixties, the man wearing a green tweed hat, white hair poking out from under it, the woman a quilted gilet. Each one of them was holding the hand of a small, blond-haired boy.

The man pointed at Maggie.