‘I’m very worried about my sister.’ Ash turned. ‘I will be frank. Maya is not a well woman, you must understand. She is devastated by the death of her boyfriend. She is not –’ he paused, searching for the right words – ‘she is not in control, I think would be the most true thing to say.’

‘What do you mean, control?’

‘She – she has some habits that are not good for her. That is why we have asked Dr Fisher to stay at the house for a few days. To observe her.’

‘And the medicine that she takes?’ I asked.

‘Maya is – she has had some mental health problems, Mrs Miller. She is of a – of what you might call a nervous disposition.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I thought of Maya’s words about her own mother. Busy losing her mind. ‘Could you be a little more … expansive?’

‘My father would be upset that I’ve told you. He is very ashamed right now, ashamed and worried. But the truth is, Maya is an addict, Mrs Miller.’ For a second I thought Ash’s face might actually crumple. ‘My sister is truly addicted.’

The room felt stifling hot suddenly. ‘I see.’ My mind raced back to the times I’d met Maya. ‘I hadn’t realised that, I have to say. I thought she was … just broken-hearted, really. Brokenhearted and frustrated …’ I trailed off. I looked at Ash. He smiled back. He had a small black mole, almost like a beauty mark, by his mouth. He reached in his pocket, pulled out cigarettes.

‘She is broken-hearted, yes. Her boyfriend died.’

‘I know,’ I said carefully. ‘Poor Maya.’

‘But he was also the problem when he was alive.’

‘In what sense?’

‘He was also her dealer.’

‘I see.’ I considered what he’d said. ‘To be honest, I wondered if Maya had some strong political beliefs too,’ I said as casually as I could.

Ash Kattan lit a cigarette and exhaled through his perfect white teeth. ‘Such as?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘I saw her picture, on that Islamic march in London a few weeks ago. She was on the news, wasn’t she? And she said she was … learning about the history of her country. I wondered what that meant.’

‘You wondered if that meant she might be a potential terrorist?’ Ash Kattan laughed drily. ‘Well, why not? We all have brown skin; we were born Muslim – although actually my mother was a Christian. We are the infidels, no? And I expect Maya said my father’s politics are dodgy?’

My mind was reeling back and I tried to concentrate. The levers of the deadlock were starting to slide into place – but they weren’t there yet.