‘Are you ever going to put a sock in it?’ she said, angrily. ‘Such a worrier!’

‘Yeah well, Juliette, the difference is that I have done time inside. You never forget the noise, you never forget the fear, and you never forget the smell of the shared bucket.’

Chapter Four

It was five o’clock in the afternoon when Cottesloe and Wickens arrived at the terraced house in Walton-on-Thames where Michael Jakes lived. It was their second attempt to visit him that day after his call to the information line. They needed to ring the doorbell several times before a dishevelled figure emerged to let them in. Jakes was about thirty, tall and skinny, his greasy shoulder-length hair and untidy beard flecked with what could have been paint. He ran his hands through his locks as he turned away and tried to find somewhere for the two officers to sit. He had clearly been asleep. He offered coffee and they accepted.

His eyes unnerved them. One seemed to continually drift upwards, and then jerk back to its original position. The officers must have been staring because Jakes said: ‘I suffer from vestibular nystagmus. It affects my left eye. People often think I’m looking at something over their heads. It doesn’t affect my vision too much because I rely on my right eye.’

‘Is there no cure?’ Wickens asked.

‘That’s an interesting philosophical point. I would say it’s the attitude of others that needs curing. As I said, my vision is largely unimpaired though I do suffer from vertigo from time to time. I’m luckier than many others who have a similar condition.’

The two police officers then asked what he’d seen the other night, and he gave them as detailed an account as he could. ‘So just to be clear,’ Cottesloe said. ‘You saw a vehicle leaving the bridge shortly after you heard the splash.’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you describe it?’

‘No. It was quite far away by the time I saw it. I just saw the rear lights and the right indicator, which seemed a bit fast.’

‘Malfunctioning, you mean? Flashing at a higher than normal speed.’

‘Yes. Perhaps its own version of nystagmus.’ He smiled.

‘And this vehicle was not present when you arrived on the island?’

‘No. I would have had to walk past it on the bridge.’

‘And what time was this when you arrived?’ Wickens asked.

‘I don’t know. All I remember is the time of the splash because I looked at my watch. It was 1:56 a.m.’ He tapped his wrist.

‘How could you see?’ Cottesloe asked.

‘Head-torch.’ Jakes touched his own forehead.

‘How long after you arrived on the island was that, would you say?’

‘Ten minutes, fifteen perhaps.’