‘Can we get back to the police?’ asked Helena kindly, and I agreed we could, although Imo stayed beside me. She moved her knife and fork round so that when our food arrived seconds later, we tucked in, ravenous, to fish and chips, side by side. Helena, who barely ate, and certainly not this sort of food, toyed with a very English-looking ham salad.

‘I’m not suggesting you go straight to the police and say you left him to die because he was a cunt. I’m just saying, don’t forget why you did it. If and when the time comes.’

I nodded, throwing in chip after chip. Cunt. I liked that.

‘Also, Luce, there’s no way the police can find out how long you left him, don’t forget.’

‘Oh.’ I put my fork down. Told them about Ingrid. How it had slipped out at the police station. Imo asked why I’d even thought someone might have seen something? I told her about Amanda: my lunch with her.

‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘But that’s just Amanda’s little threat? One of many? Scattergun approach? A shot in the dark that hit a target?’

‘Yes, more than likely. Scared the living daylights out of me, though. To the extent that I even started to imagine things, that this woman had turned a light off, the better to watch me.’

‘But you didn’t go round?’

‘I did, actually.’ I told them about seeing the daughter. Watched, as they valiantly resisted the temptation to put their heads in their hands.

‘OK,’ said Helena, as calmly as possible, ‘but obviously no more contact, all right?’

‘All Mum’s doing is being honest,’ Imo said reasonably. ‘Acting like a normal person would, who’s not under suspicion. Maybe frustrated by the slowness of the police inquiry?’

‘That’s true. Also, since you’re not under caution,’ Helena swept on, ‘and if you can bear it, I think you’re better off answering the police’s questions on your own. If you can bear it,’ she repeated.

‘I can. You mean, it looks suspicious if I have a solicitor? I’ve already asked for one.’

She hesitated. ‘It does look more honest, I suppose. But they may not even be back. But if they are, if it gets to the point of being cautioned, we’ll get you one then. OK? Personally, I think they put the frighteners on you by asking if you wanted one, and with the burglar’s version of events, just to gauge your reaction. To see if by any remote chance you looked guilty. Perhaps prompted by the Met. But they don’t believe it any more than a jury would.’