Aware that nothing in the room – not even the walls – now felt as stable as they should, Longman steadied himself against the door frame and forced down a series of deep breaths.

Perhaps the breathing would have worked. Perhaps not. Either way, Longman was forced to stop and take a step back as the door to the room opened and Joelle Levy entered.

Levy’s arrival broke through Longman’s growing confusion. At first he was relieved to see her; a welcome distraction from his own frantic thoughts.

‘Are you ready, Russell?’ Levy remained at the door as she spoke.

Longman did not move. He just stared at her with tired, bloodshot eyes burning into hers. Her arrival had been a respite. But now he realised why she was here.

To take me to Dad.

The thought buckled his knees, forcing him to retake his seat. All without a word.

And somehow Levy seemed to understand. She walked across the room, hooked a chair and slid it close to Longman’s. She did not speak. Instead, her hand began to gently run back and forth across his shoulders. A slow, calming rhythm. He was grateful for the effort and for the continued silence as he tried to gather himself. But still he could not face what lay ahead.

‘I’m not going to be able to do this,’ he finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

‘You will, Russell,’ Levy replied gently. ‘You will for your father.’

‘I . . . I can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t see him like that. I can’t face that. Not with what . . . not with what was done to him.’ Longman felt his voice start to crack.

‘I do understand, Russell.’ Levy’s voice was still gentle, but there was an added firmness that somehow cut through Longman’s initial urge to interrupt. ‘Believe me, I’ve seen some terrible things in my life. When I was eighteen years old I joined the Israel Defense Forces. I spent eight years there, as part of the IDF and then in another organisation called Shin Bet. In those eight years I saw sights I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Innocent people massacred with automatic weapons. Children blown to bits by suicide bombers. Once even the aftermath of a chemical-weapon attack. And then I came back to England and joined the Met Police and ended up in the Major Investigation Team, where I’ve seen nothing but death and violence every day for thirteen years.’

‘I don’t . . . I don’t get it. Is this supposed to make me feel better?’

‘No. I wouldn’t insult you by trying to make you feel better. Not after what you’ve lost. But I do want you to understand this: with all that I’ve seen, with all of the violence and the murder and the gore, the hardest thing I ever did was stand above my grandmother as she passed away peacefully in her bed. The grandmother who had raised me.’

Longman could see the pain in Levy’s eyes as she relived the memory. He was beginning to understand why she was telling him this.