David took a staggering Erin to the kitchen.

‘She hit you. I’m so sorry…’ she said.

‘You needn’t be sorry, this isn’t your fault,’ he said.

He dampened a clean tea towel and washed away the little beads of blood Mrs Lowe’s nails had drawn from her arm. She gawked at the marks in disbelief.

Adam entered with a small box. ‘Here, I’ve got the first aid kit, there may be some calamine or something.’

‘Just in time,’ David said, snatching the box from Adam’s hands. ‘We need to disinfect that arm, Erin, you don’t want to catch the rabies or worse.’

Adam stared in confusion as David cleansed the fingernail marks carefully with alcohol. ‘What’s happened?’

‘His wife t...

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