‘Well, I had first-aid and life support training when I was on the Job, so I got down on the floor with her to see if there was anything I could do. I mean it was pretty obvious there wasn’t . . . I could see how many stab wounds there were . . . but it just kicked in, I suppose. I did CPR for . . . I don’t know, half a minute or so? That’s why . . .’ I held up my hands so she could see the blood dried between my fingers, gathered in the lines on my palm and at the base of my nails.

‘What about the knife?’

‘That was lying on the floor a few feet away, under one of the sinks.’

‘So you didn’t touch it?’

I looked at her to make sure she knew what a daft question it was. ‘Of course I didn’t touch it. Obviously I was aware that me giving first aid might compromise evidence on the body itself. That couldn’t be helped, but I certainly know better than to go anywhere near the murder weapon.’

She was writing all this down, ready to pass it on to the full-time investigators, once they were assigned. ‘So, when did you shout for help?’

‘While I was doing CPR,’ I said. ‘Then I ran out and I was still shouting and Marcus came in, then Malaika, and they took over. Or maybe Malaika got in there first, I can’t remember. It was all a bit panicky.’

‘What about before you went in? You didn’t see anyone coming out?’

I told her I hadn’t.

‘You didn’t see anyone going in before you?’

I was getting a bit irritated by now and told her that I didn’t make a habit of logging activity in and around the women’s toilet.

‘I have to ask,’ she said.

‘Course,’ I said. ‘Sorry for being snappy.’

‘It’s understandable,’ she said. ‘This can’t be easy for you.’

She asked for my details, so I told her that I was likely to be staying exactly where I was for the foreseeable future, but gave my mum and dad’s address as a back-up. When she asked for my phone number, I said, ‘Steve Seddon’s already got my number.’ I could see that she recognised the name. ‘Not that you’d know it.’

‘It’s best that I have it, too,’ she said.

Once she’d thanked me for my help and given me a number to call should I be in need of counselling, Pauline wandered out into the corridor to join her colleague, who’d been taking a statement from Marcus.

Marcus came in and sat with me.

‘You OK?’ He was staring down at the blood that had dried on his own hands. His friend’s blood.

‘I’m fine.’ We said nothing for a while, just stared into space, then I nodded down at his hands. ‘You get used to that.’