‘You know Lana mentioned some kind of blackmail, and Lord Higham accused me of trying to extort money,’ I muttered. ‘Then the prosecution just started on about the club being a front.’

‘Lana?’

‘Kate’s flatmate. And James said Charlie Higham was involved in something dodgy.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me. But it’s the first I heard of blackmail.’ He looked at me levelly. ‘And I can assure you the clubs aren’t a front. You know that. I tell you, they’ve been through bloody everything with a fine-tooth comb.’

Ruth was bearing down on us. ‘Liam, we need to have a quick chat.’

I couldn’t decide whether to go in and listen to his evidence. I was so sullied by the whole affair; every day it seemed more hopeless. I thought longingly of my children: I missed them desperately. I went outside to call them.

I was at the tea machine when Liam appeared again in the corridor.

‘That was quick,’ I said, surprised.

‘They sent me out again. Big old kerfuffle in there. Some copper’s giving evidence anonymously.’

‘What policeman?’

‘Dunno. Never actually saw him.’

My plastic cup dropped down from the machine with a clunk.

‘And they only used his Christian name anyway.’ Liam leaned against the machine.

‘John?’ Dully I watched the cup fill with tepid water, idly plucking names from the air. ‘Peter?’

‘No. David. No. Not David. Dan!’ He looked triumphant. ‘Yeah. Danny – that was it.’

Chapter Thirty-Three

Every ounce of adrenalin I possess crashes through my body; I’m shaking with rage. I will find him if it kills me. I smash open the doors and run into the court. He is here, so near and yet still so bloody, bloody far. Further than he’s ever been.

I look up, across – and I see him. It takes me a second to absorb the fact – and then I can’t believe it. I can’t believe Liam was right.

You are in the wrong place, absolutely the wrong place, I think. I see him and for a moment I think I am surely mistaken.

He stands to leave the witness box; he hears the commotion and he turns. Our eyes meet across the courtroom.

‘You can’t be in here,’ someone says.

‘Please,’ the court officer is speaking, ‘can the ushers … ?’

Her voice fades. Everything fades as he looks at me across the empty room and it all falls into place. How could I have been so very, very stupid? Of course he is a policeman.

Someone in uniform holds my arm as I just stand there, immobilised by shock.

It’s as if my whole life has been heading inexorably for this moment: like the moment when you switch off the television set and the tiny white light dies, the moment you are alone in the darkness.