Perhaps Madeline has the right idea, moving away to get a fresh start. Goodness knows I’ve thought about it. But this is my home. It’s where I was born and raised. It’s where I work at the job I love. Where my friends live. I don’t want to leave my support network behind because of Toby. It would feel as if he drove me away. Besides, how can I leave my dad? Especially after what he did for me. I look across at him and he catches my eye and winks.

Dad was my hero that day. He saved my life. Before he came into the room, he had no idea that Celia and Malcolm were in there with me. He was worried because he’d tried phoning, texting and knocking on the door throughout the day but hadn’t had a response. He had the sense that I might have fallen ill and be in need of help. He’d tried looking for Toby or one of the others to get an update but hadn’t been able to find anyone.

In the end, he spoke to the assistant manager and asked him to unlock my room. He said it was an emergency. The assistant manager tried calling my room first, but when there was no reply he did as Dad insisted and opened my door. Dad took in the situation and ordered the assistant manager to call the police, fetch a doctor and summon more staff to help out. My father was calm, cool and efficient. If he’d arrived a minute later, I would probably already have been dead.

I was hospitalised, but thankfully the blocker was already wearing off. I could move and speak once again, despite my whole body aching and cramping from its after-effects. Celia and Malcolm were taken into custody at the scene, thanks to Dad ensuring they didn’t do a runner. But it wasn’t until my testimony some hours later that the police also came for Toby and Nick.

The weeks and months following were a hellish blur of visits from police officers, lawyers, social services and journalists. The worst part was trying to protect my children from the fallout. The second worst part was the one and only conversation I had with Toby afterwards.

I went to visit him after he was sentenced. He looked about as bad as I was expecting him to look – pale and gaunt with bloodshot eyes – but I didn’t remark on his appearance. I didn’t even greet him. Just sat down and waited to hear what he had to say. I wouldn’t have gone at all, only I’d been told that it might help me with the healing process. It didn’t.