He took his matches out of his pocket, then pulled out his cigarettes. He threw the empty white spirit bottle onto the carpet in front of him and wiped his hands on his trousers. He lit a cigarette, inhaled, and stood there, motionless, for a moment. He would be burning all the evidence, erasing any proof of what Chris and Lucy had done. He had one moment to change his mind.

He threw the lit cigarette across the room.

It hit a patch of spirit and immediately blue flames flickered to life, racing across the carpet, growing as they spread, orange replacing the blue, smoke quickly filling the room. The flames caught the end of the curtains, ran up the sofa. The crackle and roar grew louder and louder. Fire danced on every surface, and started heading towards Jamie, who had backed up to the threshold of the room. He stood in the doorway for a second, entranced by the flames, and then turned to get out.

It was at that moment that Chris ran into the flat and crashed into him.

Jamie went flying into the living room. Above the roar of the flames he could hear Chris bellowing a stream of expletives. He looked around wildly, taking in what was happening to his flat, his hands on his head, his mouth open. Jamie was surrounded by smoke. He coughed harshly; his eyes started to blur and run with tears. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before the fire consumed the whole room. He tried to get to his feet and Chris kicked him in the chest.

‘You fucker!’ Chris screamed. He kicked Jamie again, his boot connecting with the side of his head. He reached down and pulled him up. God, he was so strong. He threw Jamie against the wall, punched him in the stomach, then the face. Jamie felt something crack; his cheekbone. Chris punched him again and blood spurted from his nose. He just managed to stay upright. There was so much smoke; he couldn’t breathe. He felt his knees sag and thought he was going to fall.

But then he remembered what he had discovered in the flat. The CCTV. The letters from the estate agent. Another wave of anger gave him strength, made him cry out, hurting his throat. He threw himself at his neighbour, his hands reaching out and grabbing Chris round the throat, pushing him against the door frame. Chris tried to hit Jamie’s arms to break his grip, but Jamie was possessed, overwhelmed and empowered by anger, by all that had happened to him since he had met this man. He squeezed harder, digging his thumbs into Chris’s windpipe. Chris hit his arms again, hit them harder. He managed to knock Jamie’s arms away and fell sideways into the living room. He held his own throat, making a horrible choking sound.