‘You do not have to say anything,’ says Dallabrida. ‘But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you wish to have a lawyer present?’

Mr Griffiths looks alarmed.

‘What’s going on?’ he asks. ‘Is all this really necessary? I’ve come here voluntarily. You said an informal chat.’

‘We like to keep things on the level,’ says Dallabrida. ‘It’s for your protection, more than ours. You’re not likely to suffer any police brutality with the tape running, are you?’

‘I hope I’m not likely to suffer police brutality anyway,’ says Mr Griffiths, catching Hagen’s eye. ‘Not in this day and age.’

Dallabrida’s smile broadens.

‘Not our style, mate,’ he says.

‘Shall we crack on, then?’ asks Hagen. ‘Thanks for coming down. We wanted to talk to you, as I’m sure you know, in connection with the disappearance of Evan Ferrers. We believe you were one of the last people to see him. One of the last adult people, that is.’

‘Of course.’

Hagen runs the point of his pen down the form which is the topmost piece of paper in his file.

‘Can you just confirm your full name, Mr Griffiths?’

‘Robert. Robert Griffiths.’

‘Date of birth?’

‘Twelve, seven, seventy-two.’

The tip of Hagen’s pen moves back up the form. Dallabrida’s smile has disappeared.

‘It says here,’ says Hagen, ‘your full name is Quentin Robert Griffiths. Quentin. That’s an unusual name.’

‘My mother had delusions of grandeur on my behalf.’

‘So why didn’t you say your name is Quentin?’

‘Would you?’

‘The thing is, Mr Griffiths, you’re a person of interest to us because you’ve been on our radar before.’ He begins to sift through his papers, as if searching for the document he requires. ‘Seven years ago. A complaint was made by a pupil, one David Sellers. He said you tried to touch him up in the changing rooms. Would you like to tell us about that?’

Dallabrida folds his arms. Mr Griffiths’s expression is one of incredulity.

‘You have to be joking!’ he says. ‘For Christ’s sake! A person of interest? It was all trumped up, all crap! You established that at the time.’

‘Actually, it was before my time. So why don’t you tell us what happened?’

Mr Griffiths colours.

‘I’d had a bit of a fling with the boy’s mother. He didn’t like it when I dropped her.’

Dallabrida raises his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

‘So do you make a habit of having relations with pupils’ mothers?’

‘Once or twice.’

It’s difficult to say if Dallabrida is admiring or disapproving, but Hagen’s face is stern.