The prison was deceptively white and grand from the street, but the air inside was filled with a lacklustre kind of dread. The visitors’ hall was a large soulless place full of hollow-eyed men – but somehow their female visitors seemed sadder, like they’d given up hope. Blank-faced or tearful, accompanied by curly-headed toddlers sucking thumbs or plastic dummies, and babes-in-arms thankfully oblivious to Daddy’s new home, they were world-weary beyond their often youthful years; the older women apparently exhausted by their lives.

James was seated already, unshaven and black-eyed, wearing a yellow tabard, and Diesel jeans that were baggier than a week ago. We hugged briefly above the wooden divide that separated us, presumably so I couldn’t pass anything beneath the table.

‘Did you bring me something?’ he whispered hoarsely. For the first time since I’d known him I could feel his ribs.

‘What kind of something?’ I sat, feeling like an innocent, as nervous as if we were on a first date, only without the nice bits to look forward to. I’d visited a few prisoners during my reporting years, but this was entirely different.

‘Fags? Money? Dope?’

I looked at him stupidly. ‘Am I allowed—’

‘Of course you’re not allowed. But next time, bring me some dope, OK? A lump of hash, yeah? Stick it in the fag packet. No one will check, apparently. And some money, yeah?’

‘OK,’ I said quietly. ‘If it helps.’

‘Nothing helps.’ To my horror, his eyes began to fill. ‘Fuck, Rose. I’m not sure I can do this.’

‘Of course you can. You’re tough as old boots,’ I soothed, taking his hand. But he didn’t look very tough. I eyed his shaven-headed neighbour, a large overweight man who sported a missing front tooth and a serpent tattoo that slithered up his windpipe.

‘It won’t be for long. You’ll be out soon, I’m sure. You’ve got to hang in there, OK?’

‘I don’t understand why the fuck they won’t bail me now. This crap about “fleeing”.’

Nor did I, that was the problem. Ruth Jones, James’s solicitor, said it was because the CPS thought there was a substantial risk James might ‘flee the jurisdiction’. Why, I wasn’t sure; no one would tell me.

I squeezed his hand. ‘They seem to think you might do a runner. I don’t know why. But we’ll keep trying. I spoke to Ruth earlier. She’s pulling out all the stops, I promise.’

A blond-haired toddler was crying in the play area as an older child snatched his action figure. The mother hushed him quickly.

‘Will you bring the kids in? Please, Rosie. I need to see them.’ James stared at me with beseeching brown eyes. ‘They’ll make me better.’

‘I can’t, James,’ I said quietly. ‘Not yet. Let’s see what happens, shall we?’