Mel looked distant, lost in the same kind of trance that Bailey had seen her in earlier.

‘The Hairdresser. That’s what they called him in the newspapers. The Hairdresser… because he took their hair. Killed them and took their hair. Silly name. But he wasn’t silly. No no. Not silly at all.’

‘When was this?’ said Bailey with a frown. She didn’t recall hearing about it.

‘2014,’ said Mel. ‘That was the year all my friends were killed. I’ll never forget it.’

Mel paused, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, but she was calm. Not manic and paranoid like before, but more collected.

‘It got to the point where I was carrying a razor blade for self-protection. Kept it up here.’ She rubbed her hand through her tangled afro. ‘It’s the only place you can keep it when you don’t have any clothes on.’

She reached up into her hair and pulled out a razor blade. She held up the rectangular sliver of steel between her forefinger and thumb. It had been smuggled into the prison somehow.

‘So what happened?’ Bailey was breathless. She felt there was some climax to Mel’s story and she was desperate to know what it was.

‘It was a freezing winter night when I met him, when he came for Mel. I was standing there naked when he got out the knife and that’s when I knew it was him. All I remember was seeing that blade shining like… like a star.’

She shuddered, lost in a haze of memory.

‘I jumped straight out of the window. Smashed through the glass. A second-floor window. That’s how I fucked my leg up. Landed on the cobblestones. Freezing-cold cobblestones. But I managed to get away. Mel got away. Mel survived.’

The gravity of what she was saying suddenly hit Bailey.

‘So you’re saying that this Hairdresser killer who killed your friends in the Midlands several years ago has now come back… has come here to this prison… to continue killing?’

Mel nodded gravely, her gaze never leaving Bailey.

‘When I heard about the scalps I knew it was him. Taking their hair.’

Bailey was sceptical. ‘Hair’s one thing. Scalps are something else.’

‘Don’t you see?’ hissed Mel. ‘He’s getting worse. Getting badder. It’s like an addiction with him. With an addiction, you start small but you always end up needing more. It’s not enough just to take their hair any more. Now he needs their scalps.’ Mel was breathing hard now. ‘I always knew he’d come back… come back for Mel!’

Her voice had gone up an octave. She shuddered and hunched up into a ball.

‘I thought I’d got away from him when I came to London but no… he’s back!’

Mel was returning to her normal self. The effects of the drug were wearing off.

‘Tell me what he looked like,’ said Bailey.

‘I didn’t see his face.’

‘But you said you were close.’

‘It was dark, I was off my head, he had a baseball cap pulled down low.’