There will be no subtlety where Hannah is concerned. I intend to experience every moment of her fear and of her pain. This bitch was the catalyst for it all and she has a lot to pay for. She humiliated me and destroyed my childhood, and still it seems that isn’t enough for her.

After Mum’s incarceration, I tried to follow the right path, to keep the fantasy of this moment in my head, staying away from Hannah and her friends. Even though the anger and resentment has always bubbled away, I worked hard to move on.

But then I understood it wasn’t over. That even though Mum has been released from prison, those who judge her will never forgive. And she has been so disappointed that I haven’t exacted revenge on her behalf. She had dropped hints when I had visited her, but now she was out, she made it clear she expected my help.

It was unfair, she told me, that the Hixton Five got to go on leading normal happy lives while hers was in ruins.

I was already getting twitchy, hating that I had disappointed her, when Hannah sent that writer friend of hers to harass us, trying to dredge up the past. It was lucky I had followed Liam Quinn back to Norfolk, otherwise I wouldn’t have realised her involvement.

I was planning on giving him a warning to stay the hell away from Mum and was shocked when I realised he was cosy with Hannah Freemont, or Cole as the bitch is now known. I have been keeping tabs on the pair of them, following Hannah, understanding that she is involved with Quinn, and seething as I realise she can’t let it drop. That she will never leave it alone.

And little Rosie Emerson. I saw her too. Understood she was probably scheming with them.

I knew I had to show them. If they wanted to go down this route, I could play games too.

The problem is the more I have played, the more obsessed I have become with Hannah again.

She was gangly and self-conscious as a kid, but I have always been drawn to her. Adulthood has smoothed out the awkwardness of adolescence and although she is still guarded and definitely more jaded, she has blossomed, filling out curves, her breasts still pert and perky, and her eyes that startling jewel green that sucks the breath right out of me even though I want to throttle her. I think back to that afternoon in the barn, when I bullied her into dropping her pants. The memory never fails to make me hard. And now I have her again.