At the sound of the door being broken down, each of us pauses. For what feels like a lifetime, we stand there, afraid to move, afraid to shatter the moment – terrified of what comes next. But then Eva’s sister calls out and Eva runs towards the landing, away from the stairs.
Seconds later, the sound of the front door being kicked open is followed by the slamming of feet on the treads.
‘Get down,’ the first officer says as two others run in the direction of the landing where he pins Eva against the wall, her face pressed against the plaster.
‘You’re under arrest,’ I hear him say, and I feel the world tip once more.
‘I’m a journalist,’ I shout, raising my hands above my head, feeling I might fall as another officer runs at me, a third emerging up the stairs and holding Eva’s sister against the kitchen counter.
‘Leave her!’ I hear Oscar’s voice shouting at the officer who has lunged at me, and when I look up I see him standing in front of me, Eva behind him being led out in handcuffs.
‘No,’ I say. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’
Oscar shakes his head without a hint of satisfaction.
‘I’m afraid we haven’t.’