It was the Facebook account of someone I didn’t know. Ollie Fulton. One of Draper’s friends, presumably.

‘Who’s David Bramley?’ I said, trying to keep my voice level.

‘These pictures,’ Draper continued, ignoring my question, ‘were shared on Facebook a number of times yesterday afternoon. They were then shared by half a dozen of our students, and, well, it pretty much went viral at that point. On a school-wide scale, at least.’

Now I understood the behaviour of the smirking boy with the untucked shirt: he’d seen the picture of me going into the police station, handcuffed. Probably everyone in school had seen it. Circulated and shared on social media like so much celebrity tittle-tattle.

‘Viral, as in it spread like smallpox,’ I said, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

‘Well, you know, pretty much every student in school has a Facebook account. Even though they’re supposed to be thirteen to qualify, there’s no actual check to verify that. They’re all on it, and their parents too, which makes this place one massive connected network of three thousand-plus people. You know what Facebook’s like: most of the things they’re posting and sharing are cat videos, selfies and shots of what they’re having for tea. Pretty dull. So a picture of a teacher at their school getting arrested is bound to get a lot of interest, and spread pretty fast. Which is exactly what happened.’

‘I wasn’t arrested,’ I said, my jaw tight.

‘You’re handcuffed,’ he replied, pointing to the screen.

‘No, that’s been Photoshopped onto the picture.’

‘Really?’ He sounded sceptical.

‘Yes. It’s been added digitally to the picture after it was taken.’

He leaned in to look at the picture again.

‘Looks real enough to me.’

‘That’s the point of Photoshop. To make it look real.’

‘You know what I mean, though. Arrested or interviewed or helping the police with their enquiries, or whatever words they use. The distinction gets lost in translation almost immediately. All those people on Facebook see is a teacher from their school getting pulled in by the cops wearing handcuffs, and given a grilling.’

‘It wasn’t a grilling. It was a conversation.’

‘Doesn’t really matter, does it, Joe? People will make their own assumptions.’

David Bramley – whom I’d never heard of – had tagged Haddon Park in the picture, so it would have appeared on the school’s Facebook page, for pupils and parents to see. As well as the countless other Facebook accounts it had been shared on since yesterday afternoon. And commented on. And liked.

‘Why haven’t you untagged the school in his caption? You could at least stop it from appearing on the Haddon Park account if you did that.’

‘It’s next on my list for today, Joe. After seeing you.’

‘Who’s Ollie Fulton, anyway?’ I managed to say.