James took DS Abbott with him in a pool car to The Royal Lancaster Infirmary. They arrived at eleven-thirty and it came as a relief when they were told that William Nash was in a fit state to be interviewed.

‘We’re very pleased with the progress he’s making,’ Dr Amara Khan said. ‘He had a good night and is now fully awake and able to communicate. However, he still needs painkillers and is clearly mentally traumatised.’

‘Has he spoken to you about what happened to him?’

‘Not yet. I tried to get him to open up this morning but he wouldn’t and I didn’t push it.’

‘Does he know we want to talk to him?’

‘I told him myself and he seems resigned to it. Also, just in case you haven’t heard, his father rang the hospital late last night and he and his wife aren’t able to get here until tomorrow morning at the earliest.’

Dr Khan took them to Nash’s room, which he had to himself. A uniformed police officer was standing outside and he recognised them so there was no need to show their IDs.

James was surprised to see Nash sitting up in bed. His left leg was in plaster and raised on a pillow, and dressings covered wounds to his forehead and left cheek.

His skin was white, almost translucent, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. They darted nervously between the two detectives.

‘These are police officers and they would like to talk to you, Mr Nash,’ Dr Khan said to him. ‘Do you feel up to it?’

He gave a slow shake of the head which appeared to require some effort. ‘Not really, but I might as well get it over with,’ he replied, his voice low and raspy.

The doctor then left the room, saying she would be along the corridor if she was needed.

‘Hello there, Mr Nash,’ James said as he approached the bed. ‘Do you remember us?’

He nodded. ‘I don’t recall your names, though.’

‘I’m Detective Inspector Walker and this is Detective Constable Abbott.’

‘Were you the ones who chased me?’

‘We were. And you gave us quite a scare when you drove into that wall. You’re very lucky to have survived.’

‘I wouldn’t consider myself lucky,’ he said. ‘It must have been obvious to you that I did it on purpose.’

‘Would you care to tell us why you did it?’ James said.

He answered without hesitation. ‘Because my life has been shit for a long time and Charlotte dying made me realise that I don’t want to carry on. It was the thought that we might eventually get back together that kept me going.’

‘Why did you flee when you arrived home and saw us in the yard?’ James asked.

‘I don’t really know. I just panicked.’