‘Well it seems only a limited number of people could have. The abuser, the woman mentioned in the early passages, the victim, someone who knew the story or it’s simply all made up, and this is a red herring in whatever quest you are currently undertaking.’

‘If it was the victim . . .’

‘Then somebody is observing themselves, as the story is written in the third person. A little close for comfort, brother, don’t you think?’

Priest had immediately recognised the discomforting similarity between the account Solly had pulled off Simeon’s phone and the condition he shared with William, which habitually catapulted him into a trance-like state in which he would observe himself from afar.

He felt a flush of shame. The condition that Jessica knew all about.

‘I know you have a disliking of our common problem, Charles, but you are going to have to face up to it one day.’

‘It’s getting better,’ said Priest, looking at the whitewashed walls and through the window to the garden where patients wandered around distractedly tending to overgrown weeds. This is where seeing ghosts gets you. Priest tried to swallow but found his throat was uncomfortably dry.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Charles.’

‘I don’t.’

‘You’re a poor liar. Most depersonalisation sufferers constantly rue the day the onslaught came. What did I do wrong? What if I had done things differently? I doubt you are any different to me. The simple matter is that you have a genetic susceptibility to it. You had a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting the gene. Our sister is the lucky one, but your ghosts, as you call them, would have come to haunt you, whatever.’

He looked away. William was right. He had spent the best part of two years self-scrutinising every aspect of his life, but without coming to any conclusion. It was part of the reason why he could never let go of William. As crazy, perverse and dangerous as he was, William was the only one who really understood his younger brother.

That is a fucked-up thought.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Priest admitted. He felt weary all of a sudden.

‘Mm. Where did you get this, by the way? It’s hardly your usual read is it? Could it be connected with our earlier discussion?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Of course, and no doubt confidential. I shall treasure our chat as always. Oh, and brother –’ William placed his hand gently on Priest’s arm as he got up to leave ‘– if you find the pervert who dresses children up as dolls for the wrong reasons, then don’t hesitate to send him my way.’

*