‘No. Please, I need you to call Eastbourne police, get someone to Beachy Head.’ I was almost sobbing. ‘She – Charlie – is going to kill my sister. She’s going to push her over the cliff, make it look like an accident. Oh God, it’s probably too late already.’

He put his hand on my arm.

‘Calm down,’ he said. I guess he was used to dealing with crazy people, drunks, nutters. He was looking at me like I was one of them.

‘I can’t fucking calm down,’ I said. ‘You have to let me go. And call Eastbourne police. You have to!’

‘Let’s get you back to your cell . . .’

‘No!’

I shoved him in the chest, and in a flash I was surrounded by uniformed police. They came out of nowhere, and one of them had my face against the wall, yanking my arms back, sending spasms of pain into my shoulders. He cuffed me, and I was dragged back to the cell and shoved inside. The door slammed shut behind me.

‘She’s going to kill her!’ I shouted at the door. I kicked it and screamed curses at the unrelenting metal, shouting till my throat was shredded and hoarse. Tilly, oh Tilly. I could picture the stunned look on her face as Charlie shoved her chair, the sea and the rocks rushing up to meet her. I closed my eyes, sank to my knees, sobbing. It was too late. She would already be dead.

I had invited the dark spirit into my life. Its name was Charlie. It had stolen from Harriet, disfigured Kristi, ruined Victor, murdered Karen and Harold. It had wreaked havoc in my life, tried to cut me off from everyone. What had happened to Sasha and Rachel – was that Charlie too? Were Lance and Henry merely convenient patsies? Everyone I cared about, all the people I liked and loved. The dark spirit had poisoned their lives too, destroying everything. And now, the final straw, the coup de grace. It – she – had taken my sister.

Eventually, I stopped crying and looked up to see Lance gazing at me with a mixture of contempt and amusement.

‘You’re as mental as your friend,’ he said.

A little while after that, Lance was taken from the cell, for questioning I assumed. I sat on the hard bench, numb and drained. I had given up trying to get the police to open the door or talk to me. All I could do now was wait.

If Tilly was dead, the only person I had left in the world now was Sasha. I was terrified that Charlie would target her next. She hated Sasha anyway. A terrible thought struck me: what if she had already done something to Sasha before heading to Eastbourne? That would be logical. She knew Sasha was at home. What would she do? Make it look like another death by misadventure? An apparent suicide?