‘You look like shit!’ A voice comes from my left and Ben stands grinning, illuminated in the light. A halo surrounds him.

‘Thanks,’ I say, smiling up at him. There’s a moment of awkward silence where neither of us knows what to do or say next. In the end, Ben steps forward with open arms and hooks them around my waist.

‘Come here.’

I throw my arms around his shoulders. It feels so good to hold him, I’m reluctant to let go. In return, he squeezes me tight, face buried in my neck even though I am less than fragrant.

‘So, they’ve dropped the charges?’ he asks, finally pulling away from me.

My hair catches on his stubble. I nod, letting out a sigh I feel like I’ve been holding for a long time. It doesn’t feel real. Am I really free?

‘Terry, my solicitor, thinks the CPS were pressured to drop the case. Not in the public interest to proceed, apparently.’ It seems he wasn’t only good at Candy Crush after all.

‘I’m not surprised. You won’t believe what’s been going on. There’s been loads of press coverage. Jane’s been amazing. She launched a campaign on Facebook, Twitter, and in the newspapers. Everyone was outraged they were going to prosecute. She got a few local MPs on board too. I think you were even mentioned in the House of Commons yesterday!’

‘Fuck!’ I say, eyes wide, trying to take it all in. I can’t begin to tell Ben, and Jane, how grateful I am. ‘Did she not go travelling?’

‘No, she’s at home waiting for you, your mum’s there too.’

My eyes widen.

‘Can we walk?’ I ask, desperate to stretch my legs and move away from the high walls and razor wire. There’s so much to digest. Walking away from prison feels like shedding my skin, even though I am still wearing the grey issue sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms. The locals will think I’ve escaped. ‘How’s Amy?’ I ask tentatively, bracing myself for the answer.

Ben pauses and gives me a sideways glance.

‘She’s going to put in for a transfer.’

I nod, trying to conceal my relief.

‘How did Jane know I was arrested? Did you tell her?’

‘No, she saw it on the news first. I’ve got no idea how the press got hold of it.’

I didn’t want to tell Ben that I was the one who leaked it to the press. My one phone call wasn’t to my mother or a solicitor. It had been to the national tip line to report a miscarriage of justice. A woman going to prison for killing her attacker in self-defence. A nice juicy story on what I’d hoped would be a slow news day. I’d lucked out. Ben doesn’t need to know. He doesn’t need to know any of it.