I have been arrested on suspicion of murder. That must mean Squire has died. If there was ever a chance of him confirming to police that it wasn’t me who stabbed him, it has gone.

Conway accelerates along the road in silence until I see the sign above the building once again. PADDINGTON GREEN POLICE STATION.

He parks then unclips his seat belt. When he turns to face me, he gives me an arch look.

‘You’ve really done it now, haven’t you, Einstein?’ he says, and then steps out of the car. I wait, desperate for him to open my door. But he doesn’t. He skips up the steps to the front entrance and disappears behind the glass doors. I can’t breathe.

29

Tuesday

My throat is tightening still, but I lid the panic by focusing on something concrete. I dredge up as much of the details of the allegation as I can as I sit in the police car. I breathe slowly and evenly. Details. I need to be prepared this time. But there’s so much dust on the memory now.

It’s no good. The heat is stifling and the breaths I take feel hot and laboured. I prod at the window buttons but I know already that they’re not going to work. Panic rises in my chest, and within moments I am wishing that Conway was back here to let me out. I look around and then see a police officer on the steps, in uniform, and I tap against the window uselessly. He lights a cigarette and smokes it unhurriedly. I am maddened by his slowness and insouciance.

‘Help!’ I shout at him but he doesn’t see me or hear me, trapped in this glass and metal padded box.

And then Conway appears at the front door. He saunters towards me. My breath quickens as he inches closer. Finally, he is at my door and opens it.

‘Thank God,’ I say, panting. ‘You can’t do that! I have a condition. I’m claustrophobic.’ My voice rises and I am suddenly embarrassed by the weakness in it.

‘It was two minutes,’ he says, and then nods at me to follow him into the station.

I am processed exactly as before. Rights carefully explained to me again and I am left to read the same forms. But this time I am taken to the interview room much more quickly. It’s as if time has suddenly sped up.

Conway and Blake are there. She looks much less fried than the last time I saw her. I shut my eyes through the caution and wait for the first questions. I am still, even now, debating whether I should tell them the truth or just go ‘no comment’ as they do on TV.

‘You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned anything you later rely on,’ Conway says.