On the drive home my mind and heart are racing, I made my excuses to Helen and left quickly. I prepared for this day over three years ago but had almost convinced myself it would never come.

I park in front of my house and resist the urge to run inside. I don’t need anyone remembering me behaving unusually. As soon as I close the door I sprint upstairs and open the loft.

I pull out a can of petrol and empty it near the front door, the expert will later claim it was poured through the letterbox. I leave it to soak into the carpet and sit down, opening the folder I hoped I’d closed forever.

I read the list, even though I remember it perfectly, twelve names in all. I look at the six names on the left and carefully cross out Sophie’s. There’s now 3 names from each column crossed out.

On my way out I drop a lit zippo lighter through the letterbox, leaving everything to burn except a bag containing several identities. It’s a beautiful night, I haven’t felt this alive for three years.