The Dean ushers Nevis into his office, shows her to a seat. He is smiling without his eyes. He looks ashen and old now, she thinks, nothing like the man who laid his hand on hers over lunch at Luigi’s. A part of her wonders how she could have been so innocent, so gullible. Another part hopes that she is wrong. This is what feeling torn must be like, she thinks, laying her jacket over the chair.

‘A coffee perhaps?’ he says.

‘No,’ she says.

For a moment he looks taken aback then his face resumes its soft, fake smile.

‘I’m sure you won’t mind if I have one?’ He turns his back to her and goes over to the coffee machine. He has sensed something’s up, she realises; he’s puzzled and trying to buy himself some time. A moment or two later he returns to the desk carrying a cup delicately by the handle.

‘You seem upset. Is this about Natasha?’ he begins.

‘In a way.’

‘A tragedy for her family. The student had a lot of problems, as I think I mentioned to you. Only the other day she came to me and Dr Keane at student welfare, saying she thought she’d have to leave Avon because she wasn’t coping. Unfortunately some students are just not able to apply themselves with the necessary rigour.’ He takes a sip of his coffee and says, ‘Are you sure I can’t get you something? Tina made some rather wonderful biscuits.’ He reaches behind and, picking up a small tin, swings his chair back to the desk, prises off the lid and offers up the tin.

‘No thanks.’ She thinks she can smell alcohol on his breath.

‘Watching your figure I suppose?’ he says, withdrawing the tin and fixing her with a steady gaze. ‘No need to, believe me.’ He reaches out a hand and makes contact with hers. She can feel his heat, the suggestion of sweat on the pads of his fingers.

Part of her wishes to be conciliatory, to find a way past what Luke has told her about the car and what Tash said about who it was who had orchestrated her downfall, but something about that smell, the sugary biscuits and the waft of alcohol, brings her to her senses. The words rise up and she can no longer keep them back. This is why she’s come after all.

‘Did you visit Satnam in our flat?’ The words come out flat and tarnished sounding.

She watches the frozen pond of his face. A crack appears. When he smiles it’s a fixed grin, like a jack-in-the-box clown.