The two policewomen were staring at her intently now, the larger one perched on the edge of the sofa as though she might have to catch Irene in a dead slump.

Irene took a breath in through her nose and let it out slowly.

‘I see,’ she said. ‘And did the person see this happen?’

The two police officers exchanged glances then.

‘We are not sure, Mrs Copeland. But we have been told he had an altercation with a woman.’

‘A woman?’ said Irene, then. ‘But why would a woman …’

She gasped, breaking off the end of her sentence and both policewomen leaned forwards as though pulled by strings simultaneously. They waited for her to continue but she was staring up at the ceiling now, reliving the look on that Anastasia’s face at her front door.

One of them cleared her throat in a deliberate way.

‘Mrs Copeland,’ she said, ‘do you know a young woman called Anastasia Ryland?’

Irene looked back at the Chinese one; the name gone again in all this stress.

And then, a breach occurred like something had been severed inside. She began to sob hard, hot tears that wrenched from so deep within it felt as though her insides were being yanked out.

Later, she leaned her head back against the chair and closed her aching eyes. The policewomen had been very kind, asking if they could ring a friend to be with her, but Irene had wanted only to be left alone to try to process this violent swerve in her life.

She had been hungry for detail, once she had cried and made tea and managed to get a grip on herself, but they weren’t able to tell her too much. Irene kept asking, ‘Why now?’ Why had this supposed witness not done the right thing when they should have, a year ago? But all the officers would say was that this ‘individual’ had personal reasons for not coming forward at the time, but that their circumstances had changed in a way that made it now possible.

They also said some things Irene didn’t understand about there being no other hard evidence at this late stage to prove the story. At the time she hadn’t been able to take in why they were emphasizing this so much, but now, she understood with a dropping sensation in her stomach, that they might not have much to go on. If someone – her, that Anastasia – had done this to Michael and somehow got off, then she thought she would rather be where she was this morning. In total ignorance. She didn’t think she would be able to stand that.