When they recognized the strength of my loyalty, they changed tack. Persuaded me that being honest would mean a fresh start. If Dad and I cooperated, we could put the past behind us.

In the lobby of the Crown Court I recognized some of the people we’d conned, and the shame made my mouth dry. When I walked into Court 3 to give evidence, it was the first time I’d seen my dad in a month. He wore his only suit, the one he always kept dry-cleaned in case he spied a merry widow with a generous heart and a bank balance to match.

As I stood in the witness box, my foster mum close by for reassurance, Dad kept mouthing stuff at me that I couldn’t hear, and the judge told him off. The lawyer in the wig asked me about the first time I got ill. I explained about going to hospital, and the big pills my father made me take, and the fundraising. Dad stared at the floor as I spoke.

‘So you genuinely thought you were ill, Darryl?’

I nodded. ‘Yes. I was quite scared.’

‘Because when the police interviewed your father, he said you like to play-act. And that you’d cooperated willingly in the fundraising efforts because he’d promised you a trip to Disneyland?’

‘No. That was later. The first time . . . I thought I was dying.’

One of the ladies in the jury gasped.

‘Come on, Daz,’ my father called out. ‘Don’t lie. I’ve owned up to what we did, but you’re making me look like the bad guy here. We’re a team, remember.’

My eyes met my dad’s. I’m not lying, and you know it.

‘Mr Lennox, do not address the witness or I will have to remove you from my court.’ The judge sounded impatient.

The lawyer nodded, then turned back to me. ‘Darryl. You need to tell the truth here. During the first period of fund-raising did you know you were, in fact, perfectly healthy?’

I shook my head, not wanting to say anything that would harm my dad.

‘Please answer yes or no.’

‘No.’

‘So when did you find out?’

I spoke fast, trying to get it over with. ‘After we did a runner. We left Dad’s girlfriend Nadia behind without saying goodbye. She thought we were going to London to see the American doctor, but we went to the seaside instead, and my dad told me I couldn’t call her or write to her, because I wasn’t really ill and she could never find out. He said it had been a perfect con – no one had suffered – but that it got too big too fast. So next time we’d be smarter.’

‘How did you react when you knew you were well?’

‘I was glad I wasn’t dying and didn’t need horrible treatments. But I felt bad about Nadia.’ I spewed it all out, as this new fury took hold of me. ‘And when we did it again, I hated having my head shaved and being paraded in front of people. And not being allowed to eat before events, so I’d look pale. I got so hungry I fainted once—’