I took my sandals off and felt the warm, moist sand under my feet, digging my toes in as we walked. He—I can’t remember his name—took hold of my hand at some point and I let him. It felt nice. Melanie’s boy already had his arm around her. We just walked like that and soon we came to one of the piers—I can’t remember which one—and I remember it surprised me to see two or three courting couples under there, leaning against the pillars or the base of the sea wall and kissing or perhaps even more. We sat on some rocks under the pier and he kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, I remember, not a thrusting, probing one. He never tried to touch my breasts or anything. A real gentleman. Melanie told me she felt her boy’s penis pressing hard against her tummy as they kissed but I don’t remember anything like that. It was a sweet kiss, a soft kiss, and the last good kiss I remember having for a very long time. We arranged to meet in two days at the same spot, by the Laughing Policeman, but it was too late by then.

SUNNY WAS still sulking in the interview room when Banks and Annie joined him, along with his legal aid solicitor, Haroon Malik, later that morning. Sunny had been allowed to consult with the lawyer earlier, but it remained to be seen what his position would be when they started to question him. There was going to be no good cop, bad cop, Banks and Annie had decided. Just two cops.

They arranged their papers on the table, went through the formalities of setting the recorder going, and informed Sunny that the interview would also be filmed. He didn’t seem to care. He was hunched down in his chair, a slight figure, hardly the sort of man you’d expect to play such a cruel and despotic role over a number of young girls in his thrall. But appearances could be deceptive.

The room was hot and stuffy, and Haroon Malik requested fresh air. There were no windows to open, and no air conditioning, so Banks sent for a fan, which slowly swiveled back and forth on a shelf throughout the interview, making an irritating clicking sound every time it reached the end of its arc and started to swing back. But at least it stirred up the warm air a bit. Sunny asked if he could smoke, but Banks said no, and pointed to the sign on the back of the door. He loosened his tie before starting.

“OK, Sunny,” he said. “You know why you’re here.”

Sunny folded his arms. “No, I don’t. I’ve done nothing wrong. This is racial persecution.”

“Did you know a girl called Mimosa Moffat?”

“No comment.”

“Jade? Carol Fisher?”

“No comment.”

“Kirsty McVie, Rebecca Bramley, Melissa Sandbrook, Susan Williams and Kathleen Nielson?”