Seeking dignity, Roche got to his feet and walked up and down, clutching his iPad.

‘I’ve put in a request to the juge to speed up the process,’ he said. ‘I can try to speak to Capitaine Vincent’s superior –’

Griff lost control. ‘WHAT HAPPENED TO MY SON? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM? WHY DON’T YOU FIND OUT? WHY WON’T ANYONE TALK?’ His bass voice broke, and whistled in his throat.

Roche, agape, didn’t answer. It was easy to forget Arun was still there. Now, he got up from his chair and touched Roche’s arm. Very quickly, he shepherded him out, and closed the door behind them both.

Griff stood rooted, snorting like a bull but with nothing to charge at. Blood tinged with blackness swelled in his face. The door remained closed. The air was stifling. Bea got up from the sofa. She went to him. He grasped her hand, painfully.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,’ he said. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

‘We were a family and now we’re not any more. We’re the wrong number. It’s all wrong. I can’t cry. I can’t.’

He was almost a foot taller than her. Her hands were lost in the grip of his. Dan stared at the spectacle, the monstrous size of the man, the small, calm quietness of his wife, imprisoned in his hands.

‘It’s all right,’ whispered Bea. ‘Whatever you’re feeling.’

‘Don’t try your fucking therapy on me,’ Griff hissed, eyes closed.

‘Shut up,’ she said sweetly, ‘I’m not. Here, sit down, now.’

Without exerting any force, she moved him. He sat down, heavily, on a yellow throne-like chair. A waiter knocked and entered.

‘Not now,’ said Dan automatically.

The waiter left, immediately, and Dan, despite the circumstances, and everything he should have been thinking about, couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pride, and that he too belonged.

Sitting now, Griff put his head in his hands. Bea knelt on the floor.

‘What makes you my confessor?’ he rasped. ‘You. This nobody.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bea.

‘It’s my fault,’ said Griff. He opened his eyes. ‘It’s all my fault.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Please – stay here tonight.’ He pulled her hands up towards his face. ‘Don’t go back to that place. Stay here.’

She took her hands away. ‘We’ll stay until you go up to bed.’

‘Stay. I’ll pay.’

She smiled. ‘We can’t.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’ said Griff. His eyes gleamed.

‘Won’t.’

Dan leaned forward. ‘If he really wants –’

‘No,’ said Bea, and meant it.

Griff looked at her coldly. ‘St Bea,’ he said.

‘Bea?’ said Dan.

‘No,’ said Bea, without looking at him.

Dan, ignored and overruled, sat back.