“We just want a few words.” The officer, stiff in his uniform, fiddles with a tape recorder. Fat fingers fumble, until he finally manages to strike the right button with a jab.

I’m feeling nauseous. There’s a cold sweat on the back of my neck. I can hear my heart beating, it’s inside my ear. My eyes struggle to focus on their boyish faces. I’m trying to concentrate, but my gaze keeps slipping off them. My eyes are loose marbles rolling around inside my head.

I’ve never been a very good liar. I’ve seen people do it on TV. My mother was always good at it. “Eat all those greens and your hair will grow nice and curly.” “Yes, of course Santa Claus is real! And if you don’t start behaving, he’ll fly right by this house tonight!”

And her biggest lie of all – for twenty years she carefully concealed the fact that she was bonking Uncle Geoffrey. She served us dinner every night, she kissed my father and called him “Love”, she smiled and smiled and smiled. We never suspected a thing.

And now I’m a suspect…