I looked at Ben, trying desperately to make sense of what I was being told. Burns shifted on the sofa. He addressed his notes in front of him, licked his finger and flicked over the page.

‘Were you and Eve close, Daisy?’ Jones intercepted with a warm voice. I tried to focus on the woman in front of me. Her hair was alarmingly straight and tied neatly back in a ponytail. Her lips were a rich red but surely she wasn’t wearing lipstick? I was reminded of a shade I had at home that was called Ruby Woo. All the while her dark red lips were moving the words Ruby Woo kept falling through my head. Jones looked at me. Those lips taking on a form of their own.

Ruby Woo… Ruby Woo… Ruby Woo. Then a shocking thought struck me. I didn’t have that lipstick at home, there was no home. It was burnt. Everything gone. I imagined my Ruby Woo, melted, the plastic outer casing dissolved to nothing. Those lips were moving again. I wondered if Jones had her Ruby Woo in her handbag. I looked down at her feet, of course she didn’t have a handbag. She was a policewoman. Perhaps the lipstick was in one of the many pockets of her uniform, more than likely it was in the car…

‘Daisy?’ A female voice filtered though. Red matte lips were moving. Ben was up and coffee was being handed to me. A biscuit appeared. I bit into it. It was a golden crumble one with a soft sweet vanilla cream in the middle. It was very tasty. Very sweet. I took a sip of the coffee. Strong. Wet. Was coffee always this wet? I licked my lips, there were crumbs on them. The crumbs were dissolving on my tongue. Then things were happening around me. People were moving, standing up. Jones was gone. It was just Burns. He was slurping his coffee loudly, Annie was fluttering around the sofas, Ben was saying something to her, and she sat down in a chair that was slightly away from the sofas. I could feel her eyes on me. Jones was back. She rubbed her palms on her trousers and Ben was saying something to her. She picked up her pen; began writing something.

‘Eve was a wonderful, beautiful human being. Inside and out. There is no way she would have ever done anything stupid. She was a bit reckless from time to time, rebellious even. But she was a psychologist, at the prison, for the prisoners.’ I could hear the words. Had I said them out loud? Jones was still writing. No one was looking at me, could anyone hear me? Jones looked down at her notes in the palm of her hand. Such a small notebook. Barely bigger than her hand.

‘Yes, we have that information here. You say she was reckless? Did she have any enemies? That she might have made as a result of her recklessness, perhaps?’ She was talking to me.