‘Physically, I’m slowly getting there,’ I say. ‘Though I still can’t remember anything about the accident.’

‘That’s frustrating,’ she says, a frown line cutting into the middle of her forehead. ‘For you, I mean, not for us. We know it wasn’t your fault. You mustn’t beat yourself up too much about getting your memory back.’

‘Can you remind me,’ I say, putting the empty cup down. ‘You see, these last few days my head has got so fuzzy and I’ve been having such strange dreams I’m not sure if what I remember you told me is accurate or whether I’ve just bundled all the facts together and created a whole new version. The main thing that sticks in my head from what you told me is that I lost these gripping hold of the car.’

I hold up my fingers. Grayling doesn’t flinch. She will have seen worse.

‘That bit was accurate, yes,’ she says. ‘But I totally understand your confusion. There was so much information to take in that day and you’d just come out of a coma. What we pieced together from the fire officer’s report is that it appears you parked your car behind the Plough, on the edge of the riverbank. You got out of the car, locking it with your key fob. Then the car began to roll. There’s quite a hill there. The report found that the handbrake hadn’t been engaged properly. The car gained speed and smashed through the car-park fence and rolled into the river. When you noticed we think you ran after it and tried to prise the door open. Traces of paint from the car were found on your fingers. At some point you got swept down by the current. Our conclusion and that of the coroner was that it was a tragic accident.’

I sit for a moment, unable to get the thought of Elspeth out of my head. What must she have gone through? I remember the metallic taste of river water in my mouth, the screams, the flash of red fluttering in front of me. There’s a certainty strengthening in me with every moment. Something else was happening that day. Something the police don’t know or aren’t choosing to tell me.

‘Was I wearing red?’ I say.

‘I don’t know,’ says Grayling, narrowing her eyes. ‘Why?’

I think again about that memory: the flash of red darting in front of me. And for a second I’m tempted to tell Grayling but then I stop myself.

‘It’s nothing,’ I say.

‘Was there anything else you wanted to ask?’ says Grayling. ‘Or anything you wanted to tell me?’

‘Well, yes, actually,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I came here today because I need to find my husband and I wondered if you could help me.’