Whoever was watching obviously came to the same conclusion because the door opened and with a jerk of his head, the officer indicated Luke should leave.

They told her there was to be a formal hearing and waited for her to ask when.

She said nothing, concentrating on the texture of the table in front of her to try and shut out their voices.

Apparently, they hadn’t completely abandoned the softly, softly approach, because the female officer was back again, gently explaining she’d been appointed her escort. ‘“Prisoner’s Friend”, as it used to be called, Jane.’

Her nametag said Varma. She was brisk and matter-of-fact, but not unfriendly. Jane hardened her heart.

‘Right, Jane, I’m here to represent you. It’s not strictly necessary at this stage – it’s not a court martial – it’s simply a hearing to try to establish what happened. My defence – our defence – is that you are too shocked to speak at the moment. Playing to your strengths there,’ she added with unexpected humour.

She looked at Jane for a moment and then said quietly, ‘Your situation might not be as desperate as you think. Whether by accident or design, the murder of Sarah Smith took place in a blind spot. No cameras. So no clues there. Furthermore, when they took your clothes for analysis, they found no blood on them other than a small patch on your right knee – presumably where you knelt and a slight smear on your cuff where you felt for her pulse. My argument – and it’s a strong one – is that given the amount of blood sprayed up the walls and across the ceiling, the murderer would be covered in the stuff.’

Unless he stood behind her, thought Jane, closing her eyes against a sudden picture of Luke, his hand entangled in Smith’s thick, glossy black hair, pulling back her head . . . exposing her throat . . .

‘Unless he stood behind her, of course,’ said Varma. And waited.

This echo of her thoughts brought Jane up short. This officer – for all her designation of Prisoner’s Friend – was not. She was simply here to ignite a flicker of trust in Jane and then exploit it.

There was a short silence as Jane bit back the words she had been about to utter. Was there a very faint flash of disappointment in Varma’s eyes?

‘Of course,’ she continued, ‘you’re such a shorty that if you had been standing behind her, you probably wouldn’t have been able to reach, anyway, so we should be able to kick that argument into touch quite easily.’