Donaldson watched, paralysed, as she slowly raised her arm above his head. He had no doubt now about what she intended to do and no doubt about her willingness to do it.
In that brief moment when he had looked into her face he had been unable to read the emotions in her eyes. Not hatred, he thought. Nothing as positive as that. Just indifference. Just the blind disinterest of someone who saw him only as an inconvenience to be eradicated from her life.
He wanted simply to close his eyes and wait for the moment to come but couldn’t bring himself to do so. All he could do was watch in horror as she tensed her body, preparing herself, her arm poised to plunge the knife.
And then he had no idea what was happening.
There was a sudden shouting from somewhere to their left along the shore. At the same moment, she was pulled away from him, her arm grabbed unexpectedly from behind. He heard a thump from behind him and, as if released from a spell, Donaldson realised he was able to move. He rolled away, pulling himself round so he could see what was going on.
There were two figures struggling together on the ground behind him. In the dim light, it took him a moment to work out that his daughter was being held by another woman. Despite the initial surprise his daughter was beginning to gain the upper hand, forcing the knife increasingly close to the other woman’s chest.
Donaldson dragged himself to his feet and stumbled towards them, reaching out to grab his daughter’s arm. She twisted away from him, but that allowed her opponent a brief opportunity to retaliate and reach for the knife.
But the woman was too slow. Donaldson watched in horror as his daughter plunged the knife hard into the woman’s chest. She pulled it out again almost immediately, but the blood was already seeping onto the woman’s thin pale anorak.
As his daughter withdrew the knife, Donaldson reached for her wrist, trying to force her to drop it. Her attention turned back to him, and she raised the blade again, slashing it savagely against his face and then down against his chest. She thrust hard and he felt the tip of the blade penetrate his skin, gouging into him. He pushed her back, seizing hold of her arm.
He told the police later he’d only intended to disarm her, though he had no idea whether that was really true. Struggling to escape his grip, she pulled against him and he tumbled forward, his weight unintentionally forcing the blade of the knife back towards her.
Donaldson tried desperately to regain his footing, but it was already too late. Both of them fell and, as they did so, the knife blade sliced into her neck, cutting deep into her throat. She fell to her knees, blood gushing from the wound onto the snow. He reached out, wanting to staunch the bleeding, but she dragged herself away and crawled out of his reach. Then her strength finally gave out and she slumped to the ground, blood pooling deeply beside her.
Donaldson turned to see a figure looming out of the darkness towards him, the light of a torch bouncing as it ran. He raised his arms to ward off a further attack, but the figure stopped, allowing the torch beam to play first across Donaldson’s face then across the rest of the scene.
‘My God…’ The torch beam moved hesitantly back to Donaldson’s face. ‘What did you want to do that for?’