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Hi, I'm Ahs. Oh, God, sorry. Okay, we'll start again. Hi, Ahs. Oh, what? What are you doing? Well, I'm trying to host a series mate. Oh, it's your turn. Yes!

This boat's well.

It's 9.50pm, the 7th of November 1974, Southwest London. A woman runs through a smart residential street in Belgrade.

She wears a pinnacle dress and jumper. Her bare feet splash through the puddles on the pavement as she gathers pace.

The lot seeps through a cut on her head. It dirties her long blonde hair and drips into her eyes. She doesn't even notice.

She has no idea where she's going. All she knows is she don't stop until she finds help.

The woman reaches the Plumas Arms public house at the end of the street. The warm glow of light inside fills her with relief.

She bursts through the door and takes in the small group of drinkers scattered around the room.

The full force of what happened hits her. She begins to scream. The drinkers abruptly stop their conversations.

The barman rushes over to her. What's happened, Lough? Veronica Luchan looks up at him. Eyes full of fear.

She feels shaky and cold. The floor seems to disappear beneath her and she collapses into the barman's arms.

Everything goes black.

I mean, you would think of a London Booser as a sanctuary, wouldn't you? That would be where you would head.

Yes, easy to get into and loads of people that could help.

And to camp you for eyes and pints.

When Veronica comes round, she's lying on one of the pub's well-worn satis, a heavy blanket over her.

Several concerned faces stare down at her, the barman being one of them.

Oh bloody hell, you had his worried dear.

For a moment, Veronica forgets where she is and what just happened.

But then it comes flooding back. Overwhelmed, she blurtes it out.

I've just escaped and murdered her. He killed my nanny, then he attacked me.

...