DS Allen has stains down the front of his cheap suit. I’m sure Dr. Robinson has noticed too. I imagine her to be a clean freak, judging by the state of her handbag; it’s lying open at her feet, the clasp not doing its job. Everything has its own little compartment. I see some antibacterial wipes, a plastic make-up bag, a low-calorie oatmeal bar, her menthol cigarettes, the spine of a book. I lean forward to read the title: Hotel du Lac. We read that in my book club. Ness hated it. Dr. Robinson sees me looking, pretends she doesn’t, leans down and snaps the bag shut, and places it on the other side of her chair.

We are in a different room; I have been escorted out of my own room and through various corridors by the receptionist, or jailer, whoever she is. Actually she might even be a man; it is hard to tell. Whichever, she’s built like a rhinoceros. At one stage we crossed a courtyard and the fresh air took me by surprise. I paused. I turned my face to the sun and felt its rays on my skin. My hair is red but my skin is sallow; it craves the sun. I thought of all those times I have taken sunlight for granted. The Rhino gave me a little tug and I moved on across the courtyard, following the heavy roll of her bulk.

We passed Mental Sita in the telly room. I gave her a little wave and she stared at me as if she’d never seen me before. But then she is mental. It’s a veritable rabbit warren, this place, grey lino and mint-green walls. We passed the canteen and I saw the Squeak laughing with the chef. I make a mental note – looks like they’ve got a thing going on. She says something to him and he turns to look at me, his smile dropping. I see it everywhere; heads look up and necks crane as I pass and, to my surprise, I realize that I’m something of a celebrity. Maybe this is how Leah feels – except the smiles don’t drop when she passes.