Matthew said: She kissed me and I said something like: Hold on, I’ve already said no to all this. But we got carried away. We’d had a lot to drink. We kissed on the steps all the way up to my bedroom, nearly didn’t make it. And then we were in the bedroom having sex on my bed. I’d never have sex on a floor, let alone a kitchen floor.

Amber said: He got me onto the kitchen floor. He raped me.

Matthew said: Of course there is no ‘witness’. It never happened. And there would have been nothing to see. Two people drinking too much wine. That’s all.

And Becky?

Becky, shivering with both cold and nerves, had given her evidence: a red and black shoe. A thigh pinned down. A look on Amber’s face. What look? Distress. There was a time she thought it could have been ecstasy but no, she thinks now distress. Had Becky ever been asked by Matthew not to say anything? No. Do you vouch for the character of Matthew Kingsman? Not any more. Can she be sure that what she saw was rape? No. All she can say is that she was there. In the kitchen.

And now she was here.

Becky sits down next to Amber.

Amber Heath, publicly torn down, disbelieved, called a slut and slag and liar.

‘Hello again,’ she says.

Outside the courtroom, the photographers had surged at Becky like baying, drunk football hooligans. Up in her face with their questions and microphones. Camera flashes dazzling her.

Matthew had the best barristers that money could buy. He was acquitted. Of course he was. He and Amber had met before, slept together before. She went there, knowing that his wife was away. They drank wine. And if he denied having sex on the floor, it was because it was a humiliation too far. To be thought of that way.

Amber puts her arms around Becky and hugs her for a long time.

Afterwards, they sit next to each other on the bench, Amber holding Becky’s hand.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come forward when you asked,’ says Becky. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.’

‘But you did say something.’ Amber turns to face her.

‘But he was acquitted. It might have been different.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘They wouldn’t have called you a liar,’ says Becky.

‘Some of them still would have.’

‘Stop being nice. You tried to kill yourself. You thought you were going mad, and I let that happen.’

‘You didn’t know me. And you didn’t owe me anything.’ And then, ‘Why did you do it? In the end?’ asks Amber.

‘I thought I owed you an answer. You needed an answer and I had it. I could at least give you that.’

‘I don’t think I’d have come forward. I’d have kept quiet.’