She answered with a cackle. ‘Isn’t it though? They bought it when he first started making money and now they don’t want to leave, so they just keep adding on and adding on. I’ve told them it’s fucking ridiculous but they won’t listen to me. When they want to sell, who’s going to buy it? A million-quid mansion in the middle of a bloody cul-de-sac and only half a mile from the prison and the dog track. They’ll be queuing up …’

‘Maybe they could buy the neighbours out,’ I joked. ‘Take over the entire street.’

‘They’ve offered but no one wants to sell,’ she said plainly. ‘All the neighbours are trying to cash in on him one way or another. Sad, really.’

I gave a low whistle, for the first time feeling oddly sorry for the junior millionaire.

The end of the room was made of glass and I looked out on the back garden. An assortment of dirt bikes, scooters, Segways, football nets and bouncy castles all stood sentry, patiently waiting to be played with. It had to be every boy’s dream.

‘Don’t know why his mum keeps ordering all that shit,’ Veronica commented, following my gaze. ‘He never goes outside. I try to make him go out for his lunch but he won’t have it.’

‘Even prisoners get at least one hour a day,’ I replied. ‘What sort of state is his skin in under that helmet?’

‘He makes Darth Vader look healthy,’ she said with a shrug. ‘It’d be easier to flay him alive than it would be to peel him out that gaming chair. I’m surprised his mother hasn’t started giving him sponge baths.’

I pulled a very sour face that she caught before I could look away.

‘This job is not without its challenges,’ she added as she dropped a coffee pod into the Nespresso machine. ‘Which leads me to wonder, how come you want to spend your life putting more of his nonsense out into the world?’

‘His nonsense?’ I repeated with a smile. ‘That’s a funny way to talk about your own client.’

Veronica opened the enormous American-style refrigerator and fished around for some milk, holding it up for my approval.