‘Tell us in your own words what happened,’ DI Walsh said, his notebook out.

‘I asked for a lift home, from anyone at the station. He offered to take me himself.’ Caitlin’s face screwed up as she tried to swallow. The doctor was poised to stop the interview if Caitlin appeared to be in too much pain.

‘Do you want some water?’ Gillian asked, squeezing Caitlin’s hand a little harder than necessary. She really needed Caitlin to sell this.

‘We got home and he walked me inside. I made us a drink in the kitchen, and he pushed me up against the units and kissed me. I was nice, but I asked him to leave. He grabbed me by the hair and hit my head against the cupboard.’ She reached up and touched a gash in her forehead.

Caitlin started to cry and looked at Gillian. Gillian could see what she wanted, she wanted Gillian to stop this so that she didn’t have to say the next few words. Gillian dug her nails in as she squeezed Caitlin’s hand this time. The tears poured out of her and Gillian pulled her hand away.

‘If this is too much …’ Doctor Hadley said.

‘No, it’s OK. He hit me and told me that he could do what he wanted because he was a police officer. He pushed me over the table and pulled my pants and tights down. Then he raped me.’

‘After he attacked you, what happened?’

‘He had his drink and I didn’t do anything, I just waited for him to leave. I was too scared to say anything. Then he raped me again. He was there for a while. He already knew my grandfather wasn’t coming back that evening, so I guess he was in no hurry. He really hurt me.’

Gillian was pleased with Caitlin’s performance. She was really selling it. She just hoped the men in the room were so blinded by their own hero complexes that they wouldn’t question her too much. She didn’t like the way DI Matt Walsh was looking at Caitlin though. She would have to keep an eye on him; they could deal with him later.

Gillian made all the right noises when Caitlin was explaining the horrific ordeal that she had been through and the DI made a face every so often in Gillian’s direction. He was trying to convey how sorry he was, how awful what had happened to Caitlin was, how not all men were rapists. Caitlin kept looking to Gillian for comfort, for a clue of what to say, for a way out. Occasionally Gillian squeezed Caitlin’s hand in support, occasionally she squeezed it because Caitlin was pissing her off, and in those instances she made sure she squeezed it hard enough to hurt. Gillian always picked the pretty girls. They needed to be taken down a peg or two.

When the interview was over, Gillian played the distraught and concerned friend, enough for the uniformed police officer to put his arm around her; she could feel his biceps through his shirt. In a couple of weeks maybe, she would seek him out again for comfort. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and so when she did offer him no-strings sex, he would probably jump at the opportunity. Most men did. She would use him for a couple of weeks and then finally get rid of him when he started to notice her lack of feeling, lack of empathy for others. Gillian had left a string of meaningless relationships behind her and that was fine with her.