Maybe she was just scared of being here. Of what else might happen in the depths of the night.

I’m not the most macho bloke in the world but there was something about all this that tapped into a deep, primal place. Like I couldn’t protect my woman in our cave. This actually made me snort a laugh through my nose as I imagined the look Anya would have given me had I voiced this thought out loud to her. I’d never have lived it down. Didn’t mean it wasn’t a little bit true, all the same.

I presumed the police would go around to speak to Bennett, which made my stomach ripple with discomfort. Hard to imagine this was going to lead to a calming of this situation, but it had to be done. I pictured Tyler’s round, fearful eyes as he took in the uniformed people on his doorstep.

I knew all too well what that felt like.

I didn’t really remember the night my father was finally removed from the house because those nights merged into one: the hard raps on the door, then boots thundering into the house. Tall blue monsters who shouted and knocked things over. That’s how it seemed to me.

Our lives were so immeasurably better with Mark Little out of them. That was why I couldn’t understand Mum’s reaction the day we heard he was dead.

I came in from school to find her whey-faced and red-eyed at the kitchen table.

She asked me to sit down and then told me she had ‘some very serious news’.

I remember my first thought was that she had been given only months to live. This was something I’d seen on telly and had spent a lot of time thinking about lately. Then I noticed the official-looking letter on the table and the stamp that said ‘HMP Brixton’ and iciness wormed its way into my stomach.

‘Sit down, Elliott,’ she said, and I obeyed, but warily, placing my chair at an angle to the table so I could make a quick getaway.

‘What is it then?’

Mum took a deep, shuddery breath before replying. ‘It’s your dad,’ she said. ‘I’m very sorry, sweets, but I’m afraid he has been very unwell and …’ she swallowed ‘… and now he has died.’

I remember an intense wave of heat passed over me. My face felt like it was on fire and I began to shake. I was too young to be able to describe what was happening. I didn’t know how I was supposed to react to this. I hated this man, but there was a certain raw shock to hearing your father had died, whatever the circumstances.

‘Do you want a cuddle?’ said Mum. I shook my head fiercely, registering the slightly hurt look she gave me in response.