And then Jessica saw it.

It did deal with locks. It also engraved signs and trophies, plus sold batteries and various leather goods but that wasn’t the main function of the Gorton Market stall.

Now she could see why she had missed it. Each time she had walked past before she had simply seen the sign for shoe repairs.

And then she knew exactly who Nigel Collins was.

ONE YEAR AGO

There had been no better feeling than ditching the name Nigel Collins. It was something that reminded him of being weak and pathetic, of seeing those fists pounding down upon him until he woke up in hospital. People had thought he was stupid and weird but there was nothing wrong with being quiet. His parents had died for crying out loud and he had been left in a children’s home he despised. What did people want him to say and do? He had only been a child and all the other kids picked on him.

That was a few years ago now and he was finally getting things together. The main thing was getting rid of that name, which had taken a while. He never would have felt able to get on with his life the way things had been after he had left hospital. Luckily, he had made friends living on the street. It was funny that people who were overlooked could be so resourceful. Some of them were lost to drugs but that had never appealed to him. One of the people he had met had told him he could get him a new ID and national insurance number. You never knew whether to believe what you heard on the streets but his friend had come through with a brown envelope containing the few basic documents he would need.

He wouldn’t be able to drive without risking being discovered, or leave the country, but that could change with time. When it came to other homeless people you rarely got anything for nothing but Nigel had found that passing on money from begging and the odd bout of slippery fingers got him what he wanted. You learned all sorts of new tricks when you needed to.

With a new identity, things had started to come good. He got himself a flat. It was horrible but a roof was always better than no roof then he got a job. It was nothing special, just fixing shoes, engraving and cutting keys on the market but the stall’s owner had been great with him, looking to pass on his skills so he could semi-retire but still take the income. He had found out lots about himself; how practical and creative he could be. With a new name, somewhere to live and a job, he had found his confidence growing at last. He started making friends and creating a new life.

Talking to girls.

And then, within days of each other, two people walked into his life as if to taunt him, a reminder of a past he had forgotten. He recognised the faces as parents of the people who had destroyed his life. Names weren’t a strong point but he never forgot a face. These were features he knew but they had looked through him, not knowing or caring what their children had done.

First a man, mumbling something about having been burgled and needing new keys, pretending he didn’t know who he was talking to. You didn’t usually need to take name and address details but people rarely questioned you when asked. Every now and then he had got a few girls’ names and numbers in a similar way. When the man returned, he got his keys – without knowing about the extra one that had been cut.

At the time, the man formerly known as Nigel Collins didn’t know how it could come in handy in the future but then there was a second gift.

Two days later a mother of one of his other tormentors also pretended she didn’t know who he was and came to him with the same story. She said she had been burgled but wanted to chat, without even acknowledging who he was. She had been only too happy to give over her address details and another key had been pocketed.

He wondered if the other two would walk into his life, two more gifts, but they hadn’t so far. Maybe fate or God was telling him he had to find the other two himself? Perhaps it was time to be Nigel Collins for one final short period of his life and then he could get back on with things, find a career and a girlfriend and settle down.

FIVE MONTHS AGO

One of the hardest parts of leaving one identity behind was choosing yourself a new name. It had to be something you felt comfortable answering to but also something you actually liked. After the tedium of ‘Nigel’, he wanted to be more memorable; not weird but something not exactly regulation either. Although he had decided on his new moniker a few years ago, he had really begun to feel it sticking recently. He felt his senses moving quicker when people spoke his name. The acknowledgment they meant him was becoming instant and natural. He liked it.

The plan that started forming seven months ago was beginning to work too. The other two he wanted to target had not come directly to him, so he had to make sure they did. The first was easy, the woman even lived in the same house as years ago, although he didn’t recognise the man with her. He resolved then it would have to be the woman he took; the man could be completely blameless but not her. He had begun to watch the location and realised it would be difficult to get the right pattern of when she was alone. The first two would be easy but this would be a lot harder. He felt sure the right opportunity would come if he waited long enough.

He had thought of a way to try to make sure she came to him in the first instance, giving him complete access to her. Everyone loved to save a bit of money and a good offer. In his head it would be successful and if fate kept favouring him, it would work.

The other woman had been harder to find. Like someone who was homeless, whores could almost live in plain sight with many people driving and walking past but pretending not to see what was in front of them.

He had used the Internet to check the final name on his list and saw the tormenter was in prison, where he belonged. But that shouldn’t let him off the hook. Finding anyone close to him had proven hard though. He didn’t even know if they lived in the same area now. He had been waiting for fate to guide him with little luck. He did not want to continue with a plan that only contained three of the four people he wanted.

And then he saw what he had been wanting to see for all these months – and she had been right in front of him the whole time. He had walked past her row of shops on many occasions as he went home. He usually kept his head down. He had even heard her voice, ‘Do you fancy . . .’ as he hurried past. Then one night he glanced up and saw what he had been looking for the entire time. A familiar face from years before, a face he remembered walking young Shaun to school. Befriending her was easy; money tended to do that. Afterwards she wanted to be friends, offering him cigarettes and complaining about the local kids.

Then everything just appeared to him, a way to get access to both his final places. The owner of his stall had taught him some very useful skills in the past eighteen months, wanting someone to run the business for him but still keep the profits for himself. He had learned those skills willingly and now he had used them. He repaired the lock he had damaged the night before and pocketed a third key, and then the final woman came to him on the stall and the fourth and final key had been created.

Now he just had to wait and watch. He didn’t even know if he were capable of doing what he planned. He would have to be focused and think of what had been done to him in the past. He would have to build up his strength first, develop his body and keep a close eye on the comings and goings of his targets. When the time came he would have to be careful not to leave a trace but he could plan and wait for the perfect time when there would be little chance of him being discovered.