‘Not puffing back up the garden, staggering a bit in the dark, drunk, disorientated, making no sense. Whereupon you had a flaming row and you gave him a push?’

‘No!’ I was horrified. ‘And God – if anyone says I did, if the woman at the back – I would never have done that!’

He considered me, evaluating me. The room was very quiet and still. I sensed the policewoman behind me, but she made no sound.

‘Tell me, if you would, please, about the woman at the back.’

I licked my lips. They were dry as dust. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ I said huskily. ‘I’d like a solicitor. And I’d like to speak to my daughter first.’

‘Of course.’ He nodded efficiently and closed his laptop. I imagine he supposed that the look he gave me was inscrutable. But there was an element of satisfaction in it. An element of a job well done. His job. I watched him tuck a pen away inside his jacket. I wanted to ask him if he had any idea what it felt like to be owned by someone. I wanted to tell him that, had I given Michael a push, that too would have been understandable. But I never laid a finger on him. Just as he never laid a finger on me. He was far too clever. Never a bruise, not one. Just dark enclosed spaces where I could contemplate potential accidents as he called them. There was a lot I could say.

‘And I’d like to go home.’

‘Naturally. PC Williams will see you out. We’ll be in touch, Mrs Palmer.’ And with that he got up and left the room.

After a moment, the policewoman came round and waited for me to get up and follow her. She was totally expressionless. A very different young woman to the one who’d smiled at me in reception and asked me to wait, please. And he, my interviewer, was definitely not an older version of the nice young copper who’d overseen my cycling proficiency test. The one who’d smiled as I’d completed winding through some cones. With trembling hands I pushed my chair back and followed her out.

Outside in the car, I rang Imo. No answer. But her phone was always off at work. I sent her a message.

‘Please ring me when you can.’

I was about to start the car but she rang back immediately. Because I would never normally write that.

‘What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Granny?’

‘No, it’s not, it’s me.’ I had to pause a moment. Fight for control. ‘Darling, I’m outside the police station in Thame. I’ve been asked lots of questions. I have a feeling they’re going to ask me some more. I need a solicitor.’