I scrolled down the page, trying to find what I wanted. It amazed me what could be bought online, delivered anonymously to an address with no repercussions. What would you have to buy for red flags to be raised? What purchases would result in a knock on the door from the police?

There, I found what I was looking for. A rape alarm to carry with me. Yesterday I went back to the boxing club with Ben, used the weight machines and the punchbag. I’d caught the bug and was keen to return. He’d offered me the use of his car during the day, when he would be sleeping, but the club was less than a mile away and I decided I would try to jog there and back. A tick in the box on the cardio front.

I checked out, my credit card details saved on the website from the numerous purchases I’d made already.

I had a few hours spare before I had to be at work for the redundancy meeting in the afternoon and I was itching to go back to the boxing club. I rang and told Stuart I would be taking another week, and that I was still anxious about going out, but I would endeavour to make the redundancy meeting. I didn’t want to forget to hand in my doctor’s certificate, which had run out on Friday. I intended to self-certify this week. What with us potentially losing our jobs, I wasn’t in a rush to return.

I started slow, a minute’s jog, then a minute’s walk. Enjoying the fresh air. I didn’t need music to propel me, anger carried me along. I only had to picture his face, the one I’d conjured from the shape of the balaclava, to boil my blood. His mouth, smirking, was what I visualised as my trainers pounded the pavement. I needed new ones, proper ones for running.

Jason was impressed when I arrived and gave me a quick circuit training session, moving from the bag, to the weights and then the speedball.

‘Listen, you’re not going to make any money letting me train here for free,’ I said, as he helped me out of my gloves.

‘You’re my best mate’s girl. I can’t charge you.’

I snorted. What had Ben been telling him?

‘Honestly, let me pay. Give me a half-price discount if you feel guilty,’ I suggested cheekily.

‘All right, if you insist.’ We shook hands and went into the office, so I could fill in the direct debit form. I felt sick signing it, more money coming out when I didn’t have enough going in, but at least I wouldn’t feel like I was taking advantage.