They stumbled backward, hitting the wall, and Cormac was about to give up, hissing at the man in front to move out of the bloody way before he got punched again, when the worst thing happened.

Chapter 66

Lissa unlocked the door, and as soon as she did, the other woman pushed her way in and locked it behind them both.

“It’s kicked off,” she said.

The two women in the loo looked at each other rather awkwardly as the shouting and fighting continued beyond the bathroom door.

“Weird sort of panic room,” said Lissa in a waver, attempting to break the ice.

The fire alarm was still going off, but nobody was moving. Lissa assumed, correctly, that someone had set it off on purpose to get everyone out in the corridors. Certainly you couldn’t smell anything. The woman had her phone out and was tutting loudly.

“Sorry,” said Lissa. “Did you really need to use the loo? I can stand in the corner if you like.”

“You don’t look very disabled,” said the woman crossly.

“I know,” said Lissa. “I’m sorry about that. I was having a panic attack. I know that doesn’t count.”

The woman shrugged. “Oh. Well. Maybe that should count.”

“Not if other people need it.”

“I’m gluten intolerant.”

“Oh,” said Lissa. “Oh, well, I am sorry to hear that . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Why were you panicking?” said the other girl eventually, giving up tapping on her phone.

“I . . . I’m meant to be giving evidence. It’s scary to think about it,” said Lissa. She couldn’t believe she’d even managed to say that out loud. “I never used to be frightened about stuff. Then I saw a horrible accident and it really knocked me over.”

She paused. This was . . . this was exactly what Anita had told her to do. Talk about it, over and over. Relive it till she couldn’t be scared of it anymore. That guy too.

“The guy outside . . . the guy I was talking to. He said I should just talk about it.”

“He’s probably right,” said the woman. “Mind you, he went off to have a fight, so God knows.”

“I know . . . bit weird taking advice from a bloke on the other side of a toilet door.”

“Take it where you can get it, I say,” said the woman, looking at her face in the mirror and adjusting her carefully painted-on eyebrows. “I have some advice for you. If you’re meant to be sitting with five lads in a jury situation, don’t go to the toilet.”

It took Lissa a minute. “Oh God,” she said. “Is this . . .”

The woman looked at her. “Shh,” she said. “I’m a youth worker, yes. But I really did have to go.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Not so much now.”

“I mean, please do . . .”

“I can’t now, I’m too uptight.”

The alarm stopped going off.