Grazier, or the power Home Office thought they had over Holloway, seemed to be slipping. That, or the acting governor was trying to make a statement.

‘There’s no Bish Ortley on the list to see anyone today,’ he was told by Allison, the efficient woman from the Visitors’ Centre who usually accompanied him to Officer Gray’s post. Her expression always seemed to warn against trying to charm her.

‘But you know who I am,’ he said.

‘Yes I do, Chief Inspector Ortley, but there’s nothing here to say that a visit has been approved.’

‘Then it’s probably been organised directly with Officer Gray.’

She picked up the phone, punched a few numbers, and waited a moment before asking if Chief Inspector Bish Ortley was authorised to visit Noor LeBrac.

She hung up and shook her head. ‘And according to Officer Gray, the meeting rooms are all being used for parole hearings or visits from legal representation.’

‘Then I’ll see her here in the visits hall.’

‘If you’d like to see an inmate on a social visit, you’ll have to get a visiting order signed by her, and then book the visit over the phone, quoting the number.’

He stared at her, beginning to lose his cool. ‘Which means I can’t see her now?’

‘All general visits to the inmates are organised via our booking line —’

Bish removed his phone from his pocket. ‘Allison,’ he said patiently, ‘in two minutes’ time you’re going to speak to the Home Secretary’s adviser.’ He had no idea whether Grazier was the Home Secretary’s adviser but Allison didn’t need to know that. ‘He’ll be the one to work out whether to interrupt the Home Secretary’s busy schedule because some incompetent person didn’t do their paperwork.’

But she refused to be moved. He pressed the number and waited. Prayed that it wouldn’t go straight to message bank.

‘What?’ Grazier asked.

For once Bish was relieved to hear his voice. ‘They won’t let me see LeBrac,’ he said. ‘Lack of paperwork or some bullshit. Can you have a word?’

He handed the phone to Allison and watched as she listened. As her face turned many shades of puce. A wince or two. Fear. Anger. Then fear again. All in total silence until she handed Bish back his phone.

‘Visits are in the yard today.’

Noor LeBrac looked different in natural light. Not so much younger as more human. Outside with the other inmates and their visitors, she nodded in acknowledgement to some who passed by. But he missed the confines of the meeting room already. It was noisier out here, mostly arguments between family members or crying kids.

‘You’ll have to hand over the letter you received from Violette,’ he said.

‘No.’

Just like that.

Before he could insist, a woman twice LeBrac’s size stood at their table and shoved a form under her nose. ‘I need this filled out.’

‘Then come to my classes and learn,’ LeBrac said dismissively.

A wail sounded close by. One of the younger girls, heavily pregnant, was gripping the hand of her female visitor. Two prison guards made their way towards them.