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Early one evening in February 1994, I was chopping onions for a chicken curry and singing along to the radio. The news came on, with an item about a search for human remains at a house in Gloucester . I felt a fleeting pang of sympathy for the victim before reaching into the fridge for the garlic. ‌

The newsreader continued: "Police have confirmed that Frederick West, aged 52, and his 40-year-old wife Rosemary, of 25 Cromwell Street, have been arrested on suspicion of multiple murders." ‌

"What?" I gasped, as the garlic fell from my hands to the floor. As I ran to the living room, the floor seemed to tilt beneath me. My heart was thudding. I flicked on the TV and there it was: 25 Cromwell Street. ‌

In a flash I was back to my teenage years, when I lodged in the house

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