I reached the glass entrance to the court and half turned, looking over my shoulder. I smiled and said, ‘I think you’ll find if you check the rolls of court today that there is no one called Kevin Milne appearing.’ I stopped smiling and pushed in through the revolving doors, grateful she could not follow to clarify my answer. I made my way to the agents’ room. Eddie was already there and he had warned them to back off. The other lawyers in their black gowns huddled in small groups and whispered about me behind my back. I was used to that. I pulled an expensive navy blue suit out of my locker. It was bought for me by Kailash–it had cost thousands of pounds but was now crushed and reminiscent of a dishtowel. The only kind of office wear that worked for my lifestyle was drip-dry polyester, but Kailash would not hear of such a thing. I tried to smooth some of the creases out with my hand but it just wasn’t happening. I shoved my feet into the heels I kept at court. I’d forgotten tights, so my legs were bare. I could pull this look off–just.

The cells were busy with custodies; inmates had been brought in for deferred sentences, trials and probation hearings. There were also a number of new custody cases. The punters who had asked for Lothian and St Clair were being seen by Louisa and Eddie; they were already seated at tables with clients in front of them. I stepped up to the desk. Before I had said the name ‘Graham Marshall’, the desk sergeant had shouted, ‘Marshall for Brodie McLennan, Table Three.’ The desk sergeant winked at me. There was no doubt he knew Marshall’s true identity. My day was getting worse by the minute. Kevin Milne’s original trial lawyer twenty years ago received death threats. I hoped history would not repeat itself, but suspected it would.