I’d nodded my head as I was driven away, though inside I felt an odd sensation, one I hadn’t felt since childhood in the weeks after my mother’s death. It was a feeling not unlike weightlessness, as though I had left my body and was floating above the scene, calmly observing myself and the police officers and my frantic sister.

As Bains sets up the tape recorder I think back to the afternoon of the 11th of August. The sunshine pouring on to the driveway, the talismans of my childhood lined up along the path, Geoffrey’s smiling face as he opened the door.

Then I remember something.

The glass bird.

The bird that all Geoffrey’s readers would have been familiar with, as each story was narrated by it: ‘The Bird of Truth’.

I hear Frank Solomon clear his throat; Bains clicks a button on the tape recorder but I’m not in the room any more. I’m back there, at Holly Maze House, remembering. I see sunlight pouring through the window and the glass bird looking at me from its perch on the sideboard.

‘Miss Adams.’

Bains is speaking and gesturing to the tape recorder but all I can think about is the bird.

‘Miss Adams, are you ready to start the interview?’

I nod my head and fold my hands in front of me as he begins to speak.

‘Miss Adams, can you tell me where you were on the afternoon of the 11th of August 2018?’

Bains fixes me with an unblinking gaze as he asks the question. I look down at my hands, which are clasped in front of me, as a fleeting image of the body appears before my eyes. I try to block it out, try to summon a comforting image, but all I see is him.

‘Miss Adams, could you answer the question?’

I try to speak but my throat is dry. I would like a glass of water but I dare not ask, for if I speak at all then this nightmare becomes real.

‘We believe that you visited the offices of Price Burrows Estate Agency in Hampstead at 1 p.m. that day,’ he continues. ‘Is that correct?’

I look beside me at Frank Solomon. He shakes his head. At our brief consultation half an hour earlier he told me that I was not under arrest but here voluntarily and was under no obligation to answer any questions, though failure to do so might add to their suspicions. Does the shake mean I shouldn’t answer?

‘Miss Adams, it’s a simple question,’ says Bains with a sigh. ‘You would be doing yourself a favour if you work with us on this.’

I catch his eye for a moment. His expression lifts. He thinks I’m relenting but instead I look down at the desk and shake my head.

‘Okay,’ says Bains. ‘Perhaps this might jog your memory.’