He stops in his tracks. Turns his back on us. Shandy offers me gum and I accept. Then I lean on her. I need to lie down.

‘Not here. You can sleep on the Tube.’

I yawn. The edges of my vision are blurring and my gums ache. My head is full of static, like I’m receiving the cosmic microwave background in my fillings. Shandy steps on my foot, sharply.

‘Owie.’

‘Stay awake. Something’s happening. I think he’s going to call for his invisible plane in a minute.’

Donato turns around. He is furious.

‘Well, isn’t that interesting? Roman is in Bernard’s flat as we speak. It took him two hours to bypass the security system, but he’s in now.’

‘Yeah, so?’

Now it’s my turn to step on Shandy’s foot. Belligerence won’t get her anywhere with Donato, except maybe back in lock-up.

‘Bernard isn’t there. That’d be because he’s dead. Roman just received a call from the Transport Police. Bernard walked in front of a train on the Northern Line. What have you got to say for yourself, Charlie?’

Nothing. I have nothing to say. Because I really need to sleep. Right now.

I hear people talking but I don’t know where I am. I don’t even know which way is up or what position my body is in. It’s like I’m floating, and then I hear Shandy’s voice.

‘You both know Charlie didn’t do this. She’s being framed – can’t you see that? I mean, look at her. She can’t even— Look at her – she’s like a child.’

‘Or that could be just a cover,’ Donato says. ‘Have you noticed how she conveniently falls asleep whenever she’s under pressure?’

‘That’s because she’s sick!’

‘Allegedly.’

‘Don’t be a cunt, Donato. Use your head. Charlotte doesn’t understand the world. I’ve known her for years, she gets lost on her way from the toilet to the fridge, she’s not capable of planning anything even if she had one single malicious bone in her body. Which she doesn’t. So just stop it. No, I don’t want coffee, I want you to leave her alone. She’s one of the good ones and I won’t— Hold on, this is O on that bloody archaic app she uses instead of Spacetime.’

I come swimming into awareness reluctantly. It’s nicer in sleep. I seem to be doing the Grand Tour of sofas, because we are in Bernard’s flat, and I’m trying to figure out how that even works. Surely the police should be here, and forensics, and we should be in jail if they really think I did this somehow – and judging from what Shandy is saying, they do.

‘Charlie. Can you hear me. It’s Roman.’