‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘You know how it is. I fucking hate looking through CCTV, it’s so dull. Can I get a drink?’

‘Sure. You didn’t find anything then?’ He picked up a beer and opened it before handing it to her.

‘The bank was closed and so we have to wait ’til morning to get the footage from the cashpoint. Gary phoned the twenty-four-hour helpline, but they said there was nothing they could do from there, that it was an onsite digital recording and there was no way of accessing it remotely.’

‘Thanks for trying.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘You seem angry. What else is going on?’ Adrian said.

‘This is just bullshit, Adrian. I hate it.’

‘How do you think I feel?’ Adrian asked.

‘I hate everything about it. I hate thinking she’s a liar, I hate knowing for sure she is a liar. Because what if one day some other poor woman comes in and says she was raped, and I decide that I know for sure that she’s lying too? Who the fuck am I to be able to decide that? Without evidence, just a decision I have made.’ She took a long swig.

‘I don’t understand,’ Adrian said. He wasn’t lying; was Imogen saying that she didn’t want to believe him or that she wished Caitlin was telling the truth?

‘I thought I would be able to be objective!’ Imogen replied, more animated than he had ever seen her before.

‘Aren’t you being objective?’

‘Well no. Not even slightly. The evidence at the moment kind of says you did it. I saw her get into a car with you, Adrian, I saw the way you were with her, the way she was with you. I saw her injuries, I saw your injuries. Your alibi is shit! There’s no evidence to suggest you didn’t do it!’

‘But?’

‘But I still know you didn’t do it.’

‘And that’s annoying you?’ He smiled a little, trying not to anger her further. He had been worried that she might think he had hurt Caitlin. It had been the thing that scared him the most in all of this. It was nice to know at least that Imogen’s faith in him was unwavering.

‘Wouldn’t it annoy you?’ she asked.

Before he knew what he was doing, he put his hands on Imogen’s face and kissed her hard on the lips. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. She probably didn’t look as surprised as she should have, and she pushed back and kissed him on the lips herself. He put his arms around her then, pulling her in. Imogen dropped the bottle and they stumbled backwards onto the sofa; he heard the beer fizzing as it permeated the carpet, but he didn’t care. He could feel her angry heart pounding against his chest. They kissed for several minutes, angry kisses, and as their hearts slowed down, so did the urge to kiss each other – and then it just stopped as quickly as it had started and Imogen clambered to her feet.