‘Either it’s because Roddie’s a wife-beater,’ K said, ‘or it’s because he’s got a wife they wanna beat.’

It was Dawn, the officer on duty when she first interviewed John Paul, who escorted Mary from the governor’s office, through admin, and back down to the agent’s area. Mary was already furious, redmist furious in fact, when they arrived in agent’s, but as she began walking past the glass-windowed interview rooms, her rage became uncontainable, her nose-breathing loud enough for Dawn to say:

‘You okay?’

As they passed interview room eight, she said ‘Aye,’ but it wasn’t true, and it became less so when Mary glanced in room seven.

Derek McLaverty was sitting in room seven. His face caused Mary’s face to explode, the way Renfield did around a century ago. She could feel its severed parts smashing against each other, an eye against a nose, broken tooth against lip, and before she knew it she’d opened the door and barged in.

‘Get the fuck out of my life,’ she said.

‘Excuse me?’ Even in prison garb McLaverty managed to look superior.

‘You do someone a favour to get your polo shirt ironed?’ Mary was disappointed in everything she’d said so far. Her brain was too muddy and her head too hot to be a grown up. The more she looked at Derek, the more he morphed into Tommy McInness, who bullied her at school. Toxic Tommy. Dickwad Derek. All the same.

‘You have a problem with grooming?’ Derek was scanning her matted hair, her broken tooth (she closed her mouth) and the sleeve of her shirt, which was the colour of Sangiovese.

McLaverty’s lawyer, dressed in weekend wear of designer jeans and a black t-shirt, turned to protest: ‘Hey, get her out of here. Dawn! Dawn?’

If Dawn was trying to get Mary out, she didn’t notice.

Derek’s pose was determinedly relaxed: foot on knee, elbow on back of chair.

‘You talked to your mate, didn’t you?’ she said.

‘Which mate?’

‘Rich, RG Books, I saw him chatting on your Cuck Facebook page earlier today. You’ve ruined my husband’s career out of pure badness.’

Dawn put her hand on Mary’s arm; she flicked it away.

‘And you used a vulnerable young boy to try and harm me, right here, in one of these rooms.’

‘Are you feeling all right, Mary? Having a hot flush?’ Derek smiled. Mary lunged forward, but Dawn grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

‘Get out of here,’ the usually flamboyant lawyer said. He packed less punch in jeans.

Being pulled from the room didn’t stop Mary’s rant: ‘You lied about me having an affair, you branded my husband a cuckold. You’ve destroyed him, you fucking arsehole. You get out of my husband’s life, and you get your claws out of my son.’