‘I found this, too.’ A flash drive dangles on its lanyard between them. ‘Evidently, not all your secrets are ancient history.’

It hits him with a terrible gut punch. There is a moment’s pause. Cullen feels as if a team of contractors is digging out a basement in his head. There is banging and noise and dust everywhere. Rising to his feet, he sidles over to the table, snatches up the drive and returns to the sofa.

‘I can’t believe you actually went through all my flash drives,’ he says, weakly.

‘There are more? Tell me, were these designed to humiliate me or to humiliate this girl, or both of us?’

‘You’re not going to believe this…’

‘You’re probably right about that.’ She is staring at him with one eyebrow raised. He has never, until now, quite appreciated just how formidable his wife can be. ‘I recognised her face from that undergraduate Christmas party you gave for the department. Though I had to look twice. Remarkable resemblance to Madeleine Ince. She’s like a very young, Asian, version of her, which I suppose was part of the attraction.’

He takes a deep breath. ‘Her name is Satnam Mann.’

‘Oh, the girl in hospital in a coma. Well, that puts a spin on things, doesn’t it?’

‘Listen, Veronica,’ he says, doing his best to sound authoritative still. ‘I didn’t go anywhere near Satnam Mann. She’s a scam artist. I go to the office one morning and this is in my pigeonhole, some lame attempt to blackmail me,’ he says adding, ‘She’s not even my type.’ This last he recognises is probably a step too far.

‘You’re a terrible liar, Christopher. I realise now that I only believed so much of what you told me because I was overprotected and naïve.’

‘I swear on my mother’s life,’ he says. ‘The girl took those pictures herself. She was threatening to post them to you unless I gave her better grades. Obviously unhinged, or she wouldn’t have tried to off herself.’ He stands and goes towards her with his arms outstretched in a beseeching gesture but she flaps him away.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to take the risk that you’d believe her. Some of these girls are terribly messed up. They want attention. I think they sometimes believe their own lies.’

Veronica is perched on the edge of the desk with her fingers pressed to her mouth, listening, assessing whether or not to believe him.

‘Honestly, Veronica, it’s been awful.’

She looks up and catches his eye then shakes her head sadly. ‘It’s perfectly obvious from the angles that she couldn’t have taken those pictures herself.’

‘So someone else took them, an ex-boyfriend, whoever, I don’t know. I swear I’ve never had anything to do with her in that way. She’s a mixed-up kid. Avon is full of them.’