It was boiling. A damp, oppressive heat. Lissa couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so hot. She was wearing far too many clothes, it was ridiculous. She pulled off her large coat and jammed it on top of her wheelie bag, making it unwieldy and hard to get past the crowds on the tubes. She’d forgotten about those too. So many people! How did anyone get anywhere? And could she really have forgotten about this in such a short space of time? She felt herself begin to sweat. This was the last thing she needed, to look damp and flustered.

Roisin—short, businesslike, and dressed in a smart black suit and heels that looked like absolute torture to march about in all day—met her at the side entrance. People were milling around and Lissa was anxious, concerned about seeing the boy’s mother again, jerking back to the memory of everything that had happened before, again and again.

She looked around nervously. How would the family of the defendant be? Angry? Frustrated? Violent?

Instead she saw a mixed lineup of smartly dressed solicitors and barristers hurrying in and out of entrances; clerks with huge bundles of papers and files, sometimes rolling them along in carrying cases; and other people, some dowdily dressed, smoking patiently by the bins or sitting staring into space. It did not feel like a cheerful place, nor was it meant to.

“You’ll be fine,” said Roisin, sitting her down in the witness waiting room after they got buzzed in. It was completely plain and bare, and the coffee was absolutely disgusting, served in a thin white plastic cup. Lissa kept forgetting and took automatic sips of it.

She read over her statement again. It was just as she recalled it, and she felt her heart begin to thump. The day, the person she’d been visiting. Seeing the boys in the walkway. And the flash, the hideous flash, of the phone, glinting in the sun; the crunching of bones; the squelching of flesh.

The rush. The ambulance. The sitting. The begging, the bargaining. The faces.

She started to cry.

“You’ll be fine,” said Roisin, glancing at her watch. “Come on! You’ve been a big tough A&E nurse! You’re used to all sorts! How come this one is bothering you?”

She remembered the boy’s soft face lying on the hard pavement. “It just does,” she said.

“Well, distract yourself,” said Roisin. “How’s country life treating you?”

At this Lissa felt herself turn pink. “It’s all right,” she said.

“Seriously? Lots of cows to talk to?”

“Yup,” said Lissa. “Lots of cows.”

“Isn’t it freezing? I couldn’t handle the weather.”

“It’s fresh,” said Lissa. “I quite like it. It’s better than . . .”

She indicated out the tiny window: the heat shimmers coming off the pavement, the scent of rubbish rising into the stuffy air, smoke everywhere.