‘I told you – information. And it’s worth a whole lot more than that, now I’ve had time to think about it.’

‘The same information that was worth killing Dad over decades ago? The reason you think you’re safer in here than out there? If it’s so dangerous, why did you want it?’

‘I told you, Lucy got us in a hole. Alan couldn’t sell what he had directly, so he wanted someone to do it for him; I got in the middle.’ I remember wondering to myself if anyone in my family was solvent. Michael started to get agitated, rummaging through each of his pockets, muttering as he did. ‘To be honest I didn’t realise I was doing something all that dangerous. All I knew was that Holton got them from Dad. I didn’t know that he was, like, involved. Then again, I don’t think he thought I was much of a risk either, so we all made mistakes.’

‘What do you mean “them” plural? And who were you selling to?’

‘It’s easier if I show you . . .’ He rummaged around in his pockets and patted his jeans. He produced a contact lens case (I hadn’t known Michael needed glasses, but perhaps with the walls so close in prison, he’d become near-sighted), a few balls of lint, a chocolate wrapper, a pen and a set of keys. No knife. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t there. ‘Shit. Where’s the damn thing?’ He couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘I’ll have to show you later.’

‘You’d been drinking. That night.’ It had been on my mind, but it just kind of popped out. I said it too quickly. My doubts were too obvious. Michael’s head snapped up, and I saw something in his eyes that terrified me. I wondered if that was the last thing Holton had seen.

‘Just a bit of courage – I had my wits.’ He chuckled, but it was sad and slow. ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Believe you?’ I tried to keep my voice level. ‘I sat in the car because I believed you. I’m an accessory because I believed you.’

‘Listen—’

‘I don’t know. These stories about Dad . . . whatever you were buying or stealing from Alan, and you’ve got nothing to show for it—’

‘—listen—’

‘—he lied to you about talking to me, whatever he made you think—’

‘LISTEN TO ME!’ Michael’s voice was so loud in the small room I almost toppled off the chair.

I stood. Walked backwards towards the door. Michael registered that I was afraid of him and his eyes changed from furious to baleful, like a chastised dog. He stood too, putting a hand out in an attempt to stop me.