I tried to gauge from her eyes whether the mask had finally slipped because she was too drugged or in pain or generally beaten down to maintain it. There was a coldness that made my chest tighten. ‘Word of advice,’ she said. ‘Don’t stand under a collapsing pig barn.’

She’d spoken first. Maybe she’d continue. This wasn’t a formal interview. I couldn’t make her talk, and she could get me evicted at any time.

‘Frankie will be better off without me,’ she added. ‘Bex is looking after her. I do care about her, contrary to what you think, but she’s not one of us. Not one of the esteemed “callous and unemotional” branch of our great family. We’re dying out. It’s a shame because we’re what made the Nightingales great.’

I nodded, hoping she’d carry on talking. We had the room to ourselves and it was quiet. I could just hear the faint clattering of a trolley in the corridor and muffled shouting from a nearby ward.

Kirsty pulled herself up on her pillows and fixed me with that icy gaze. ‘Oh, you love to think we’re this terrible blight on humanity, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You Normals. When in reality you need people like us. Who do you think runs the factory farms, heads up the profitable corporations, takes the risks to start businesses while you Normals sit around pretending to be so nice and compassionate and letting us do your dirty work for you?’

I felt like saying, But some of us don’t want people like you to do the dirty work while the rest of us pretend it’s not happening. We don’t want to be able to eat factory-farmed meat while letting you be the only one to look in the pigs’ eyes, or buy cheap products while people like you manage the slave labour. But there was no point. And maybe she was right. Most people still bought the cheap meat and the bargain electronic goods. We were all complicit in some way.

‘You think the rest of Gritton didn’t suspect?’ Kirsty said. ‘You really think that? At least I’m honest about what I am, not like the rest of you.’

In my mind I said, You killed innocent people. You took Daniel from me. But I wanted her to keep talking. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I said.

‘You know I’m right. It’s another reason I despise Normals. You turn a blind eye to things you pretend to condemn, because you’re all so scared of being ostracised from your little social groups. Luckily, it allows us to manipulate you.’

Clattering from the corridor. I wanted information from her before we were interrupted. ‘I assume you removed some bones from the troughs that time you fed lamb to the pigs,’ I said, hoping her urge to show off would be stronger than her instinct for self-preservation.