It seemed to me I stayed like that for a very long time. But at length, I reached for my keys and started the engine. I drove slowly home. Was I in serious trouble? I wasn’t sure. Surely they wouldn’t let me go home if I was? Surely they would have cautioned me, which he’d mentioned? From my work, I knew that was the step before being arrested, which I definitely hadn’t been. So that meant they had no evidence. Although he had asked me if I’d like anyone with me. Why? To frighten me? Was that even allowed? And the interview room – so intense. Surely if they just wanted some clarification of events that night, they’d have popped round? But of course, they had. And I’d been out. This should have just been a cosy chat in the sitting room with a cup of tea. Biscuits, even. I began to relax. I’d only been in that ghastly room because I’d gone to them, and it was the only place they had to talk. And surely if the Met really thought I’d done it they’d have come down themselves? Had they just asked the local branch to go through the motions for form’s sake? I made myself loosen my grip on the wheel. I was overreacting as usual. They were obviously going to re-question everyone concerned. No, not re-question, just ask for confirmation of what had actually happened that night.

As I parked in the drive, I got a text from Imo.

‘Helena and I will be down first thing tomorrow.’

I messaged her back:

‘Darling I have an awful feeling I’ve overreacted. I’m sure we could talk on the phone.’

‘We’re coming,’ came the immediate response.

Slipping my phone into my bag, I couldn’t help feeling relieved. Imo and Helena. The cavalry.

25

Helena and Imo did indeed arrive the following morning. I’d had to tell whoppers to my parents along the lines of them both having the day off and wanting to hotfoot it down to see the cottage, but neither of them believed me.

‘But they’re both so busy …’ said Mum anxiously as she passed me the marmalade over the kitchen table. ‘Helena never even has a day off if she’s ill.’