‘That’s a shame.’ It’s Leadbetter this time, her first contribution to the interview, her first stab with her little banderilla. ‘Was it guilt you felt? Or sympathy?’

‘That’s an absurd question.’ It’s Tony’s turn to be angry. ‘Your assumptions are grotesque. My client deserves an apology.’

Leadbetter says nothing. Another hint of a smile from Bullivant.

‘Let’s recap, shall we?’ Leadbetter is studying the notes she’s made. ‘Our contention is that you knew Ms Beaucarne a great deal better than you’re prepared to admit. Quite how you first met her isn’t clear, but no one I know would write a note like that on the basis of a single weekend. So, we think the friendship goes back a while. And we think you also knew about her illness, about the MND. And even if you didn’t, our understanding is that you should have been looking harder because – by all accounts – the evidence was there in plain sight.’

I duck my head, partly in shame. By all accounts is a killer. Leadbetter might be young, she might take better care of herself, but she’s right. They’re obviously talking to other people they’ve arrested – Bill, Beth, Nathan – and all of them probably knew the truth about Christianne. That she had this terrible, terrible disease. And that she was doomed.

‘You’re right,’ I whisper. ‘I should have realized from the start.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘No comment.’

This is getting ugly. For once my assigned role couldn’t be simpler – just two words – but I keep losing my place in the script. Tony’s foot is back on mine. He’s fast losing patience.

‘Let’s talk about Ms Beaucarne’s partner, Ms Andressen.’ Leadbetter again. ‘I imagine you must have known him pretty well, too.’

‘No comment.’

‘Would you describe yourself as friends?’

‘No comment.’

‘Did you think it was your duty, your responsibility, to give him support? Lend him a hand when the time came?’

‘The time?’ I can’t help myself.