I pushed open the door to the dingy, bare-floored room, and Mike raised his head. I saw how red his eyes were, the shadow of stubble on his chin. His face looked creased. We were too old to drink all night. Too old for any of this. My arms were full of the clothes I’d brought, soft button-less things, as if he was ill. They’d searched them for anything sharp, any laces. Anything he could hurt himself with.

I wondered where Karen was. What they were doing to her.

‘Hey.’ Mike could barely look at me.

‘Are you OK?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been charged.’

‘Oh.’ I knew that wasn’t good. They didn’t do that unless they thought there was a case. ‘Did you – have you eaten?’

‘They gave me food and stuff, a place to lie down . . . but I couldn’t sleep. I mean, how could I? This is mad.’

A rush of relief under my ribs. He was denying it. He didn’t do it, of course he didn’t. ‘What the hell happened?’ I felt more able to ask that question now. I’d been told not to, but unless they had the room bugged, they wouldn’t know. Was that even possible? I didn’t know.

‘I don’t even know. We were drinking. Way too much, I know. I must have gone to the seat and fallen asleep. That’s all I can remember. Bill had some weed – really strong stuff. I’m not used to it. I guess I blacked out a bit.’

‘Blacked out or passed out?’ Because those were very different things. Passed out, you couldn’t do anything. Blacked out, you were still moving around, functioning. You just didn’t remember.

‘I . . .’ He shrugged again. ‘It’s all a blur.’

‘Oh.’ I sat down, feeling how cold the plastic chair was. They must have had the air conditioning up high, which would have been fine during the hot day, but it was now seven on Sunday morning and my arms were goose-bumped. I hadn’t thought to put anything on over the floral dress I’d pulled from the chair in our room before the police came. I could smell my unshowered body, exuding a sour alcoholic reek.

‘Have you seen her?’ Mike asked. I shook my head. No need to ask who he meant. ‘I swear, Ali, I . . . I would never do something like that. Never in my life. Even when we were young. I never, never have and never would. Hurt a woman.’ I felt a surge of relief, but then something clicked and Martha Rasby’s face was in my mind. But no. That had nothing to do with this. Mike was gentle, considerate. He’d never hurt me, never slapped the kids even once.