‘I just told you. There are many people. We tried at the beginning to salvage our marriage. He could be a very kind and generous man . . . but he was also a compulsive liar. I found out that he had been unfaithful so many times, but I really tried hard to make things work. At one time I even protected him. That was when the rot really set in.’

‘I don’t quite understand,’ Jane said.

‘Charles was a sexual deviant. He frequently used prostitutes, and when I discovered his disgusting and sickening sexual predilections, I couldn’t stand it any longer and that is when we divorced.’

‘You said you protected him?’

Justine got up and stubbed her cigarette out in the same glass bowl her mother had used. ‘Yes, I did. You can probably check it out in police records. There was a prostitute murdered about five years ago. He had been with her and was so afraid it would be made public. So I lied and gave him an alibi and said he had been with me. That became my weapon to force him to divorce me.’

‘Do you recall the name of the murdered woman?’ Jane asked.

‘No. It happened five years ago. Charles came to me, begging for my help and crying like a child. As I said, I protected him.’

‘Do you know if your ex-husband ever had any other homes, other than your house in Barnes and his flat in Kensington?’ Jane asked.

Justine shrugged her shoulders. ‘Quite possibly . . . but I don’t know about him living anywhere else. In fact, he often used to sleep in his office and invariably found an excuse to stay at the house in Barnes – which always made it incredibly difficult for me to form a relationship with anybody else.’

‘We’ve been unable to interview your ex-husband’s secretary, Julia Summers. Apparently she has a sick relative. Do you know if Miss Summers used to take Charles’s diary with her when she wasn’t in the office?’ Jane asked.

‘I have absolutely no idea. In fact, I only met her a few times, usually when she was at her wits’ end, as Charles was incredibly difficult. He had no notion of time and was always missing appointments – as well as his daughter’s birthdays.’

There was the loud hoot of a car horn and Justine crossed to the window and looked out. ‘I need to rest now.’

The double doors opened and Florence Harris led in George Henson.

‘Darling, George has come to take you home, dear,’ Florence said, looking at Justine.

Jane watched the actress move slowly across the room to rest her head on George’s shoulder.

‘Have you met Mr. Henson?’ Florence asked.

‘Yes, we have,’ George said, his arm around Justine.

‘Have you finished your interview, Detective Tennison?’ Florence asked, clearly keen for Jane to go.