had been small, slim and cloaked – male or female, it was impossible to tell.

My leg was slick and sticky, my nightdress torn. The wound was a clean slice, as though I’d been slit by a titanium knife. I struggled to my feet and limped around the corner.

At the front of the convent, one half of the arch door was part-open. Dim light from a corridor glowball showed through the gap. Somebody was standing in the doorway. I staggered towards the veranda and dragged myself up the steps. Sister Enuncia eyed me through the crack, her face part-obscured.

‘You were outside after curfew, number Six.’ She looked down at my leg and wrinkled her nose. ‘Let this be a lesson to you.’

Sister Enuncia opened the door and I fell inside.

The door swung shut. The bolt...

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