As far as I’m concerned, justice has been done, as best as it can be done. It doesn’t even come close to making up for what we lost — those valley communities — but knowing those vile bastards are dead and no longer living off the fruits of our misery is at least some consolation.

I need you to know what we went through. Houses are not just buildings. They’re homes. Everything our families had worked for. Gone. Some of those homes had been passed down through generations. My mother was born in our house. So was I. We knew nothing else. Can you imagine waking up one morning to someone telling you they were going to knock down your home and you’d have to move? No option. No appeal. Nothing.

It’s one of my earliest memories, I think. It’s certainly the clearest. And it’s the only one which hasn’t felt any more distant as time has gone on.

I’m not a bad person. I’m not a murderer, no matter how much I’ve wanted the Cliftons dead every day of my life since.

When old Arthur Clifton died, I felt joy — briefly. I thought the company would go to the wall like all the others. I hoped, somehow, I’d wake to news of it going bust and hear the entire family had lost all their ill-gotten gains. No such luck.

When Roger Clifton inherited the company, I saw him as the walking embodiment of his grandfather. He’d been around when the valleys were flooded. He’d profited from what had happened, even if it hadn’t been his decision. And when I realised I might not see the day his business crumbled and his world fell apart, there was no way I could let that happen. I had to see him suffer, had to see him lose everything.

I hadn’t counted on the other brother appearing. When I heard he’d taken on the company, I couldn’t sit back and let him profit from the misery of my family and all the others who lost their homes as a result of what his family did. He had to die too.

I don’t know what happens now. I don’t care all that much. If the wife gets it, fine. She’s welcome to it. Rumour is she’d been shagging around behind Roger’s back for years anyway, so there’s a certain poetic justice in him being six feet under and her living off his money.

You’ll want to know exactly what happened, won’t you? I have no desire to make life more difficult for you or to hamper your investigation. I’ve achieved what I needed to achieve. I’ve had my justice. It’s only fair you get yours, too. After all, that’s what we both want, isn’t it? Justice.