‘You’re going to have to explain that.’

‘Gujarati Hindus like us are expected to marry within the caste, or jati. Well, these people were exactly the same sub-caste as us, and so it was perfect right down to the horoscopes. Except for one thing. I was not going to be raped by some aged man, however rich he was. I never, ever forgave my father. And I was angry with her, for not standing up for me. She had turned a blind eye to Harry having a British girlfriend for years, even having sex. Yet if I even looked at a boy! It was so hypocritical. Anyway, after the wedding collapsed my father and his cousin, that bastard L. P. Gosht, took me into a shed, and thrashed me. They called me a whore and a harlot, and said that in some families I could be burned alive for what I’d done. I screamed and I cried, but I was not defeated.’

‘And I understand you know firsthand about the pains of burns.’ He nodded at her hands.

‘Who told you about that?’ She folded her arms, her gloved hands in her armpits as if her burns were visible.

‘Someone who saw your selfless action.’

She waved the compliment away. ‘I didn’t think, I just went for it. Always impetuous, that’s me. I had five skin grafts, but luckily the movement isn’t too bad. My sewing got a lot less neat, which didn’t help my fashion business.’ She laughed, and then paused. ‘I still get nightmares though.’

‘I’m not surprised. Is that when you started using cocaine?’

‘What?’

‘Come on, I’m trained to spot these things. When I first came to Richmond, your pupils were dilated, you made several trips to the loo and were sniffing. A swab from the cistern came back positive.’

‘Oh God.’ She stared up at the ceiling.

‘I can look the other way on personal use, given the circumstances. But I want to know who your dealer is. Okay?’

‘I can’t.’ She teared up, her face dissolving into sobs. ‘I mean I never meant to use it. But I couldn’t cope. I kept seeing that little boy, in his child seat at the far side of the car. I just couldn’t extricate him. His two older sisters I could reach. But not him. The plastic buckle on the car seat had already fused.’ She looked at Gillard. ‘Do you know what my father said?’

Gillard shook his head.

‘He said: “Typical of you to choose life for the girls and let the boy die.” Can you believe that? At least that time Mum challenged him.’

Gillard could see that her eyes were filling up. She apologised, reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘It’s crazy, I keep forgetting that Mum’s dead.’

‘Did your mother have any enemies?’

‘Maybe in business, I’m not sure. There were rivals who wanted to buy the firm; she was steadfastly against that. But we’re not talking the kind of enemies who would like to kill her. Even when things were at their worst between us, I still loved her. My father had put impossible pressure on her, and she did what she had to do. That really only changed after he had a stroke in 2008. Things got easier for everybody then, except him I suppose. He could no longer force his will on the family.’