‘So he went to the village that had given his father nightmares over the years, and knocked on every door to tell them the story. Until one day he came across the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, who looked at the watch and wept. It had belonged to her father, who, all those years ago, had died at the hands of this Frenchman’s father.’

When Violette stopped, Bish wanted her to go on. He wanted to know more. Loved the tune of her lisp in the storytelling. ‘I need a happy ending for this, Violette,’ he said with honesty.

‘How can I possibly give you that? I come from a bloody history, on both sides of my family. That French soldier’s son is my grandfather, Christophe, and the Algerian’s daughter is my Henna Nasrene, and they have loved each other despite everything. It’s why they chose to emigrate to Australia after my father was born. They moved to the newest town in the country. It was a ballot system, the way they got their land. Out where I live, they could be anyone from anywhere, as long as they were willing to work hard. They did it for my dad, so he wouldn’t have to choose between being French or Algerian, Christian or Muslim. They wanted him to be all those things. And my father wore that watch every day of his life from the time he was ten until the day he died. Because history meant everything to him.’

It sounded to Bish as if she were crying but he couldn’t be sure. There weren’t stories like this in his family. Just ones of children being taken away from their father by imperialistic relatives who believed the British knew how to raise their children better than others.

‘That’s a good story, Violette. Best I’ve heard for a while.’

‘You’re only saying that to make me surrender.’

He felt regret at the sound of fear in her voice. ‘It wouldn’t be surrender. They’d only want to ask questions, Violette.’

‘My family went in for questioning the day after my grandfather blew up that supermarket and look what happened to them.’

‘This isn’t the same,’ Bish said.

‘It’s exactly the same.’

‘Your mother confessed, Violette.’

‘It was an illegal confession. They got it through torture.’

Bish hesitated. The wrong response now could end the call.

‘I’ll only let them question me if my mother or my uncle is in the room,’ she said.

‘That’s not possible. You know that.’

‘Then you’re turning out to be a great disappointment.’

Bish was dismayed to have reached that status in such a short span of time. It used to take people years to work out what a great disappointment he was. ‘Give me a chance, Violette, and I’ll turn out to be just what you need.’

‘Your daughter’s about to run her best race, Chief Inspector. Don’t miss out on that because of me. I’m dealing with enough guilt in my life. We’ll speak later.’