‘Well, yes, of course,’ Trout said, with some hesitation. ‘Are you saying you doubt the quite overwhelming evidence we have all heard to date against the defendant?’

‘No, sir, that is not at all what I am saying. But you need to understand that my duties as a juror are in conflict with my own personal conduct as a Buddhist.’

‘So, what are you actually saying?’ Trout quizzed, his voice laden with doubt. ‘I’m a little confused.’

‘What I am saying is I am not very comfortable to be sitting in judgement of a fellow human being.’

Trout stared at the man. Meg could see the contempt in his face. She could almost read his mind. All the prejudices Trout probably had about any race, or culture, different to his own were showing in the twitches in the corners of his mouth. Sure, Singh’s views, in terms of reaching a verdict, were not the kind of tick-box that Trout would understand. But she was very happy to take Singh as another potential ally.

A loud sneeze from Maisy Waller interrupted her thoughts. Maisy sat at the table, sipping herbal tea and eating a particularly bland-looking cheese sandwich. She sneezed intermittently, having sniffed all the way through this morning’s proceedings, to Pink’s especial annoyance. During a brief recess earlier in the morning he had rounded on her, telling her in no uncertain terms that she should be home in bed before she infected the entire jury.

To Meg’s surprise, Maisy had argued back robustly, telling him it was a summer cold that was doing the rounds, and it wasn’t going to prevent her from performing her duty. But it probably explained, Meg thought, why there were fewer people in here eating their lunch than there had been last week.

As she bit into a falafel wrap she’d picked up from a deli on her way in that morning, she began eagerly reading a long WhatsApp message from Laura that had just come in, to her relief after the long silence, telling her their plans and itinerary for their visit to the Galapagos. Meg calculated the current time difference from the time stamp on the message and worked out that Laura must have been up and compos mentis at 7 a.m. today. If there was one positive about her daughter’s trip, Meg thought, it had at least cured her – even if only temporarily – of her ability to sleep all morning.

‘Looking pretty open and shut to me,’ Trout said, suddenly, in his monotone Yorkshire accent, turning away from Singh and looking at Maisy Waller. He had all the spreadsheets open in front of him.

‘I’d certainly have to agree with you on that one at the moment,’ Maisy said and sneezed again.