McKenna called round to see me after I got out of hospital. She brought flowers and chocolates. She told me about a case she’d worked on three or so years ago, where a woman was being stalked and made out to be mentally unstable. No-one believed her. And it almost ended in tragedy. She recognised the similarities in me, she said. I’m thankful for that. If that poor woman hadn’t gone through her own ordeal, there’s every chance I wouldn’t be here now.

Matt’s told me a lot about Japan. It’s another world from here. A completely different model of society. But it’s one I want to see. Something I want to experience for myself, if only to say I have. Because what’s the alternative? Keep plodding on, doing the same old thing time and time again, living in the same old rut? I’ve got a chance, an opportunity to do something different. If only for a short while.

We lift our cases onto the check-in conveyer, knowing the next time we see them we’ll be in Japan. The land of the rising sun.

I’ve always wanted to see the cherry blossom. The Japanese believe it symbolises the brevity and cyclical nature of life. Sometimes it’s only out for a few days, if that. If there are fierce winds, the delicate blossom is gone in half the time, leaving bare twigs until that season’s leaves begin to sprout. As a result, the Japanese associate it with mortality and the acceptance of karma and destiny. They seem somehow symbolic for me now.

If nothing else, it’ll be an experience.

Acknowledgments

It always feels somewhat disingenuous for my name to be writ large on the front cover when the truth is that there’s a huge team behind every book.

To begin with, an author must translate the nucleus of an idea into a set of structured beats. When it comes to my books, it’s more a case of turning my brain farts into something usable. For that, my thanks go to Mark Boutros for his patience and good humour in being a world-class sounding board for plot and character. He’s also unfortunate enough to share my sense of humour and penchant for rubbish football teams.

That does, however, mean that my wife, Joanne, comes second (careful, now). Her continual suggestions for improvements and her unswerving dedication to ensuring each book is as good as it possibly can be is always hugely appreciated. My books would be undoubtedly poorer without her suggestions.

If there are still improvements to be made, these are unfailingly spotted by my mum or my Editor in Chief, Lucy. Lucy has read and edited each of my books over the past ten years, and nobody knows them as well as she does — not even me. She’s always the first to tell me if something isn’t good enough. And she’s always right.

The gorgeous cover is, once again, down to Stuart Bache. Not only is he one of the world’s greatest living cover designers, but he’s also a good friend.