‘You stink, you fucking coward. And if you ever blab, that grave stays. It’s been dug specially for you.’ He handed him a card. ‘Keep this. Till your last breath. If anyone ever starts asking questions, anyone at all, anytime at all, even years ahead, the rest of your life, phone this. You don’t, you’re dead.’

A few hours later – he couldn’t begin to guess how long – they pulled up in what he guessed was a lay-by. The van door opened, the handcuffs unlocked. They shoved keys, phone and a familiar wallet into his trousers. They dragged him out, slammed the door shut, sprinted to the front of the van and drove off. Even if he’d wanted to, he was too numbed with shock to note the number plate.

He looked around. He began to recognise where he was; by the main road leading off the motorway into Blackburn, a few hundred yards short of a bus stop. He climbed a gate into a field and tried to mop himself with grass. And then he walked.

Sami slumped back in his chair, his shoulders curled, his eyes closed. Watching him tell his story, Sara felt a witness to a terror relived – and a guilt that she had manoeuvred him into breaking a thirteen-year silence.

He stirred. ‘Shouldn’t have told you. Never tell anyone. But them four days…’

‘It’s OK, Sami. I would never, ever discuss it with another person unless you gave me your permission.’

He looked up at her, opening his eyes. ‘I thought they was going to kill me. I thought I was dead.’ She wanted to comfort him but restrained herself; she reminded herself that he harboured a guilt, whatever it might be.

‘But you survived, Sami. And now you’ll always be safe.’

‘How do you know that?’ He sounded almost hostile.

‘I promise you.’

‘No one can promise.’

‘It was a long time ago.’

‘Sometimes feels like yesterday to me.’ The remark, a return to a sort of reality, seemed to restore him. Sara seized the moment.

‘Did you keep in touch with the others after that? Your friends.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘Nah. I never wanted to see them again. I kept looking for them on the streets so I could duck out of the way.’ He reflected, as if reminding himself of something important. ‘Actually, a few days after I did bump into Asif. Sort of. He was walking towards me on the pavement the other side of the road. It was too late to run or hide. He saw me and yelled, “Hey, Sami.” I sort of waved at him and looked away. That was it. He didn’t come after me. He knew something had happened. But he wasn’t part of it. Not Asif. He was never serious.’

‘Part of what?’ She tried not to sound like an interrogator.