Twice in the week since Sarah Everard went missing just a stone’s throw from my south London flat, I have pulled on my trainers at dusk and headed out for a walk only to turn on my heel and go back indoors. Twice I have reached the end of the street, or made it round the corner, but then I’ve spotted a man walking shiftily, or heard a heavy tread behind me, and suddenly just being outside has felt like a risk that hasn’t felt worth taking. In the past few days I have done what women do, I have modified my behaviour. I’ve made sure to call someone while walking to the Sainsbury’s Local after work, just 10 minutes away on a main road; I have set my iPhone to constantly share my live location with my sister, my mum and my flatmate and I’ve made them all do the same. I’ve thought of all the times I’ve walked the route Sarah, 33, took and how she did everything right on the unwritten list of how to stay safe as a woman at night – bright, “unprovocative” clothing, well-lit streets, not too late.