I shook my head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You should drink at least. Let me get you something. Tea?’

‘Thank you. Black, please.’

He came with something in a small plastic cup, tasting metallic and flat. I drank it anyway. I was dehydrated, I knew, but it seemed wrong to drink and eat while Mike was somewhere in this place, being cut open.

‘Did you catch him?’ I asked. ‘Jake, I mean.’

‘We have him in custody, yes.’

‘He’d brought the knife with him. I saw him hiding it before the trial, I think. In the bushes. I think it’s from our house.’

‘I saw the whole thing myself, Mrs Morris. I was watching from the court steps.’

‘Right, so . . . what will he be charged with? He stole the knife. That’s premeditated, right? That means he planned it.’ It chilled me to think of it. When had he taken it? After everything happened – or before?

Adam said nothing. He just watched me, his eyes almost sleepy. ‘Are you close to Jake Rampling, Mrs Morris?’

‘I was. Karen and I used to share childcare when the kids were small. But lately he’s – well, you’ve met him. He’s a teenager.’ That made me think of something else. ‘Would he be tried as an adult? He’s almost eighteen, you know. Do you have to be eighteen for that?’

‘Usually. The court can use its discretion, in certain cases.’

Like for murder? Was that what this was, an attempted murder? Jake, little Jake, trying to stab my husband? Again, the image of Cassie flashed behind my eyes, frozen as he ran towards her with the knife. The glint of it in the light, the moment I realised what it was and saw Mike hurl himself in front of her. Karen, further up the road, watching as her son did this. Had she called out? Tried to stop him? I didn’t know.

‘Will he be released? What if he comes here, tries again?’ How vulnerable Mike was, unconscious on a bed.

He was just watching me, and I began to feel strangely ashamed. ‘Mrs Morris. It’s been a very difficult time. All this, so close to home . . . can I make a suggestion? Try not to think about what’s going on with Jake. Focus on your family, your husband. He got bail, as you know. We have to press on with preparing for trial, despite this . . . setback.’

‘He’s unconscious!’ I spoke too loudly again. ‘They’re cutting into him right now.’

‘I know. But the prognosis is good with this kind of injury. The liver can regenerate.’

He spoke so calmly I had to turn my face away. As if it was a good thing, that Mike would probably recover, so they could put him on trial for rape. The thought of Karen crystallised in me again, hard and sharp like I’d swallowed a piece of glass.