I took comfort from knowing I could stop this at any time. I could go to the police with what information I had. I could tell them I bumped in to him walking along the street and just knew it was him. My faith in the system could be restored, but I knew I might have wasted my chance.

Back home, I crept into the flat; Ben’s door was closed. I could hear machine-gun fire, so the Xbox had been dusted off. He sounded engrossed; shouting obscenities at his player. I slipped into my room unnoticed and rang my mum.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I said, but all I could hear initially was scuffling. ‘Mum, you okay?’ I asked, louder.

‘Yes, sorry, I couldn’t get to the phone quick enough.’

‘Are you all right?’ Sensing something wasn’t right, she didn’t sound drunk, but she was getting better at fooling me.

‘I had a fall yesterday. Patrick took me down to the doctors and they’ve patched me up.’

‘How did you fall?’

‘I missed a step coming downstairs yesterday morning. I was at the bottom for three hours before Patrick knocked on the door. He had to break in.’

My heart sank, she must have been pissed or hungover from the night before. She was hardly old and frail.

‘Oh god, Mum! Listen, let’s FaceTime. I want to see you. I showed you how to do it when I gave you the phone. Remember?’ Mum had been pretty good at tech – when she was sober. I’d given her my old iPhone when I’d purchased a new one. Something else I’d bought that I couldn’t really afford at the time. It was no wonder my credit card was almost maxed out.

‘Okay, you ring me,’ she said, hanging up.

I called back and after a few seconds’ connecting I saw a view of the white Artex ceiling before Mum’s face came into view. I tried to smile, but she looked gaunt, her hair straggly and her eyes bloodshot. Being an alcoholic was taking its toll.

‘Can you see me, Mum?’ I asked, waving.

She grinned and waved back.

‘Your hair!’ She clapped a hand over her mouth.

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s very blonde.’ No compliments then. ‘Did you get the cheque I sent?’

‘Yes, thanks Mum. I’ve paid the council tax bill.’

‘Are you all right for money?’

I nodded, it was easier to lie. I didn’t want her to worry about me.

‘And what about the other thing? Are you okay?’ I gritted my teeth. How could she refer to my rape as ‘the other thing? How could she be so fucking insensitive?