I didn’t mention that I was sure Lord Higham had had a hand in making it go away; that he had obviously wanted no mention of scandal around his name if he could possibly help it. As it was, he had resigned from the cabinet the following year.

Ruth looked at me sadly, rather as if I had let her down. Then she left me there alone and went to talk to James.

James’s barrister, John Huntingdon, was grave and sincere. I had been alarmed by his youth, by his ruddy complexion and air of suppressed bon viveur – but I had been assured he was the best.

‘Your husband is a family man, Mrs Miller? He worked hard, created everything from scratch?’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘He is extremely hard-working. He was -sorry – he is a dedicated father. His children need him at home.’

‘Of course. And would you think there was any reason for him to put this at risk?’

‘No,’ I said honestly, ‘I don’t. He was extremely successful. His businesses were doing very well. He is very well respected as a music producer. Why would he need to smuggle drugs?’

I talked some more about him being an upstanding pillar of the community, employing lots of people, giving today’s youth a chance with various schemes at the label and the club, contributing to charity. The jury looked reasonably impressed, I thought, but they were a motley bunch themselves. One thickset middle-aged woman in the front row looked like she might combust from disapproval; another folded her arms every time I spoke. James studied his hands.

Janet Leen started on about Katya and James; fortunately she didn’t mention Society X again. As she droned on and on, I looked up and I saw Kate’s mother sitting at the edge of the gallery, holding on very tight, and I cringed inside. She would know now that I had lied on my visit to her house. I tried very hard to not catch her eye at any point. I couldn’t look at James at all.

At the end of my questioning I sensed movement at the other end of the gallery and I glanced up to see a tall figure in a long black jacket heading for the stairs. For a second, I thought it might be Charlie Higham.

Then Leen took a final swipe.

‘Were you ever aware that your husband was using his clubs as a front for something else?’

‘No, absolutely not.’ I dragged my eyes back from the gallery. ‘He just loves music; he lives for it. He always did. It was a dream come true to make such a great career out of it.’

‘And drugs and partying, with lots and lots of girls?’

‘Objection, Your Honour.’ Huntingdon shot up like a jack-in-the-box. The usual toing and froing began again between the lawyers.

I glanced back up, but the figure in black was gone.

Chapter Thirty-Two