‘Calm down,’ I ordered in a voice much calmer and steadier than it should have been, given that I was dictating to Scotland’s first family of crime as much as I was to Cameron; they could hear me as clearly as he could. ‘Just relax…everything is going to be okay.’ The lie slipped out of my mouth and I put my arm protectively around him as the Boyles looked on. Someone tapped my shoulder. I half turned. Ranald Hughes, the prosecutor, handed me a glass of lukewarm tap water. He was ten years older than me, a senior member of the legal hierarchy who had been assigned what had looked like an open-and-shut case. Politeness was bred into him, and as an officer of the court he would want to do his bit to restore order and behave appropriately towards a lady. ‘Would this be of any use?’ he asked, looking doubtful. I took the glass and handed it to Kenny Cameron. Ranald Hughes watched my client sip the water. When the colour returned to Kenny Cameron’s face, it was time for the prosecutor to speak, which he did in the tone of a Church of Scotland minister.

‘Mr Cameron,’ he said, ‘the law must be seen to be done.’ He coughed, drawing himself up to his full height to deliver the abbreviated sermon. ‘I prosecuted you because no one can take the law into their own hands.’ I was itching to tell the prosecutor to raise his voice because Senga Cameron’s family still looked nasty, but that was pretty normal for them. I was out of luck just when I needed someone other than me to be loud and noticeable–maybe it was my imagination, but Hughes seemed to say the next bit in a whisper, so much so that I had to strain my ears to listen. He drew in like a conspirator, but not until he’d checked over his shoulder to gauge the distance of the Boyles, who by now were fighting with the police and refusing to leave court. They probably felt right at home, given how much time they spent there as a matter of course. ‘But I also want you to know I don’t think your wife had any right to treat you the way she did, and if you had overcome your fear of ridicule and shame then you would never have ended up in Edinburgh High Court, my man.’