‘You know, I see him as a chocolate digestives man,’ she could hear Kay saying. ‘Dark chocolate, obviously. There’s something classic about them which I think would appeal to him.’

‘No way,’ said Seema. ‘He’d be into something Belgian, like those butter waffle-style ones that they like to eat over there. Or no, actually, the more I think about it, he’d probably go for Oreo cookies. All those years in Hollywood, he surely would have gone native by now, certainly in terms of biscuits anyway.’

‘You’re missing my point. We’re not talking about what he actually eats in real life. We’re talking hypothetically here. We’re imagining a biscuit as an embodiment of man and man as an embodiment of a biscuit. There is a human spectrum and a biscuit spectrum and we are trying to establish, in his case, where those two spectrums intersect.’

‘I see… okay. We’re getting kind of metaphysical here.’

It didn’t take long for Bailey to realise who they were talking about. After all, their conversations appeared to revolve around a fairly limited set of topics.

She turned into the cell and leant against the doorway.

‘I think he’d probably go for Garibaldi,’ she said. ‘As biscuits go, they possess a certain masculine quality, don’t you think? And that definitely makes them worthy of a world-class kickboxer.’

Kay, who was sitting on the desk chair, looked up slowly, squinting at her through the miasma of dope smoke that filled the cell.

‘Oh… it’s you again. Haven’t seen you for a while. Got any more gear?’

Bailey reached into her tracksuit pocket and pulled out the original bag of weed she’d purchased from Keisha several weeks earlier. Not having touched it since the last time she’d been in this cell, she still had a fair amount left over.

She tossed it over to Kay, sitting at the table, whose eyes flared in appreciation as she eagerly pulled open the little bag and began to construct a new joint.

Seema peered up at Bailey from the lower bunk. Her face creased in thought.

‘Garibaldi, huh? A controversial choice.’ She turned to Mel who was slumped next to her. ‘What do you think, Mel?’

Mel was just staring vacantly into middle space. She hadn’t demonstrated the slightest awareness of Bailey’s presence. Seema nudged her.

‘Uhhh?’ said Mel, blinking and shaking her head clear.

‘Garibaldi? Jean-Claude? Yes? No?’

Mel looked slowly at each of them in turn with her big bloodshot eyes, befuddled as to what they were talking about.

Bailey sat down on the edge of the bunk next to Mel and waited for Kay to finish making the joint. After a minute or so, Kay held up the completed spliff with a flourish.

‘I think that’s definitely a nine out of ten.’

She lit it, took a few deep drags and then passed it to Bailey.

Bailey once again pretended to participate, being careful not to inhale. She needed to be on the ball for the next stage of this little plan.