The faceless man trod gently from the back to the front of the van, shifted his weight and leaned on the side, saying nothing. In the silence I had no choice but to listen to every breath he sucked in, heavy and long like an athlete’s, until, finally, the dim bulb clicked on and I saw a face I recognized: Grest, the NatSec officer from Lorelei’s house. His eyes were no more than a hand’s breadth from mine but in the blue light everything was indistinct. He stayed silent, tilting his head to the side to examine me. His heavy muscles made him look like an animal through the mesh of the cage.

Slowly, he pulled back the bolt and opened the cage door. I began, hesitantly, to step forward, fixing on the thought that he might have come to release me; but he thrust me hard backwards so that I fell against the rear panel, before following me in and coming so close that when his chest rose, it pressed against mine. The metal tang of his sweat mixed with the smog seeping into the van, and he waited for a long time, staring straight through me.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘We’re going to talk about you and your husband.’

The faint blue glow that wept from the bulb above us threw long spindly shadows of my limbs on to the floor, making me inhuman in my own sight.

‘Please let me go.’

‘I can’t do that, Mrs Cawson.’ Despite the closeness of the cage, I tried to twist my body past his, but it was so tight he barely fitted into it. ‘What were you doing at Lorelei Addington’s house?’ At those words, my legs became weak and I nearly fell. They must have seen me there searching for the box and the book hidden in Hazel’s bedroom. I wanted to lie, to make something up, but my mind was empty.

‘I –’

‘Why did you think your husband was there?’

I stopped short, failing to understand. Why did I think Nick was there? I hadn’t thought that. I was just going to collect what Hazel had said was hidden in her room. Then it dawned on me: Grest was asking about the first time I had gone to the house, the time when I had found Lorelei. He didn’t know that I had returned and found the ledger-like book. I forced myself not to look at the bag on the floor that held it, and stammered an answer to what he had asked. ‘I thought … I thought he was having an affair with her.’ The shame I felt at those words was nothing compared to my need to hide where I had just been.

‘Did you?’ He slid his hand across the wire mesh side of the cage. I looked at my feet, feeling guilty once more of my unfounded suspicions. ‘How long have you been married to Nicholas Cawson?’