‘The same goes for the bloodstains on my client’s coat and any fingerprints that were found at the scene, given that she was a frequent visitor. It has also been inferred that my client was in a sexual relationship with George Henson, and they were involved in this horrific act together.’ He chuckled, as if at the absurdity of the idea. ‘This is preposterous, and equally preposterous is the suggestion that Mr. Henson is the father of my client’s daughter, Clara.’

Justine turned towards McDermott, who gave her an encouraging nod. Justine kept her eyes fixed on her hands folded in her lap.

‘I first met George around twenty-five years ago. I was eighteen. He was an actor, like me, and we did a production of Miss Julie together.’ She laughed nervously. ‘George was not a very good actor, so eventually he turned to scriptwriting but it was many years before his first film script was accepted . . . ’ She trailed off and McDermott took over.

‘Shortly after meeting Mr. Henson, my client became very successful, starring in a long-running television series. This made her financially secure and she was able to support Mr. Henson. In return, he ensured that Ms. Harris was offered the leading role in a major film. They have maintained a close friendship ever since.’

Miller felt they were losing control of the interview, and tried to switch tack. ‘How did you feel about your ex-husband?’

‘I had been very happily married to him. But the pressures of his success began to change him.’

Miller persisted. ‘But you still allowed your ex-husband to take up residence in the property you had been awarded in your divorce settlement?’

McDermott decided to intervene. ‘I’m sure you’re aware that Charles Foxley and my client had joint custody of their daughter, Clara.’

Miller tapped the table with his pen. ‘I am sure that was a very amicable arrangement, but their daughter was away at boarding school much of the time. The weekends we know Mr. Foxley spent at the previous marital home were frequent and often when their daughter was not there. Whether or not your client’ – Miller glanced towards Justine, who no longer had her head bowed meekly, but was staring at him with a look of fury – ‘continued, as we believe, to have a sexual relationship with her ex-husband after the divorce—’

‘That is not true!’ Justine snapped.

‘Ms. Harris, we have forensic evidence taken from your ex-husband’s bed in your home: a long, blonde hair, which matches yours. We also have possible semen stains on his sheets.’

Justine looked apoplectic. McDermott reached out and clasped her forearm, but she pulled away from him. Before she could say anything, Miller flipped over his notebook.

‘When did you last see your ex-husband, Ms. Harris?’ He placed his hand over a plastic wallet to ensure that neither of them sitting opposite could see what it contained.