‘Possibly not, but I’m going to plough on anyway. I need to know. And the police didn’t tell me not to talk to you. Did they say anything to you?’ She didn’t reply. I blundered on. ‘You see, I know I sat there for a long time while Michael was on the floor. And yet, you say I called the police immediately. The moment I came down.’ She remained silent but a muscle went in her cheek. ‘Can I ask where you were?’ I asked.

‘In the top bedroom. In the attic. It’s the spare room. I sleep there sometimes. Usually when my husband’s at home.’

‘Oh … right. And he sleeps?’

‘In ours.’

‘I thought you were separated?’

‘We are, but he stays here sometimes. When he’s in London.’

‘That’s civilized.’

‘No, he insists. It’s his house. And if I want to stay here, it’s part of his deal. And I do. Want to stay. My house is my life’s work. I put my heart into it. And I wouldn’t get it in any divorce settlement.’

‘Oh. Right.’ A rare glimpse into someone else’s world. I reorientated myself. ‘So … he was in the main bedroom.’

‘Fast asleep. And I was reading upstairs.’

‘With the light on.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you didn’t see him break in? The burglar?’

‘No.’

‘So … when did you look out? Why?’

‘For some reason I went to the window when you appeared. Maybe I heard something. I turned off my lamp to see better. I saw someone on the floor. Then I saw the smashed door, realized there’d been a break-in. I thought about getting my phone, but then I saw you check him, Michael, and dash to get yours. So I didn’t. I’ve told the police all this. I watched you make the call and then, very quickly, it was all sirens and blue flashing lights – I gather you had them out again the other night. I told the police all of this when they came round. Told them that it all happened very quickly.’