She stares at him. ‘I was expecting a woman,’ she says at last. ‘They said they were sending a woman.’ She frowns and waits, as if expecting him to change gender in front of her eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Robin replies. ‘I could get them to send someone else—’ he starts, but she opens the door wide.

‘It’s fine. Let’s get this over and done with.’

The house is dim, lights on low, candles flickering in corners. It’s unnaturally hot and Robin takes his jacket off, draping it over his arm.

‘Most people have already left,’ Mrs Franklin says as she shows him into the living room. ‘Nobody wanted to stick around once we called the police. Emma’s through here.’

‘And you were hosting a…’ He pauses, not sure how to describe what this particular gathering might have been. He spots a bowl in the middle of a table, full of condoms in square foil wrappers, and can’t help but stare at the large blue vibrator in full view on the mantelpiece. It’s a stark contrast to the framed school photographs on the wall. ‘Party?’ he finishes.

‘Just a few friends having drinks,’ she says, but Robin can guess. She sees him looking. ‘It’s all legal, all consensual,’ she snaps.

He nods and turns his attention to the woman sitting on the sofa. She’s also wearing a dressing gown, but an old off-white towelling one, her legs and feet bare, head down, holding a tea towel against her forehead. It’s stained red.

He sits next to her, a respectful distance away.

‘Emma?’ She looks up. Her face is caked in dried blood where it’s poured from the cut on her forehead. ‘You were the one hit with the rock?’ he asks gently.

‘Yeah, I was…’ She points to another sofa next to the window. ‘Lying there,’ she says, looking away from him again.

‘Can I see?’

She takes the tea towel away from her head, and instantly the cut starts bleeding again. Robin frowns in sympathy.

‘The paramedics are on their way. You’re going to need that looked at. You feel okay to answer a few questions now?’

‘Sure.’

Mrs Franklin hovers close by. Her anger when Robin arrived has dissipated, and now she watches over them, her hand fluttering round her face.

‘Did you hear anything before the rock came through the window?’ Robin asks. ‘Footsteps, shouting?’

‘No, nothing,’ Emma replies. ‘Just smashing glass. The music was loud though, so I’m not sure I would have noticed.’

‘And did anyone else see?’

‘No. We were all… busy.’

‘And your… partner? Was he…’ Robin changes tack and opts for a gender-neutral term. ‘Were they okay?’

‘He was fine. He’s gone now.’

‘Okay,’ is all he can think to say in response. ‘Do you mind if I take a few photos?’ he asks Mrs Franklin. ‘To record the scene?’