Not having slept for some twenty-six hours I was starting to feel quite jaded but my mind was teeming with horrific images. A middle-aged British lady suddenly materialized beside me and introduced herself. She announced that she was, or had been, a social worker or child protection officer and insisted on showing me her professional papers, including, I think, her Criminal Records Bureau certificate. She asked me to sit down on a low wall, plonked herself next to me and told me she wanted to go through everything that had happened the previous night. She was quite pushy and her manner, her very presence, were making me feel uncomfortable and adding to my distress. (...) And something about it, something about her, just didn't feel right. I was glad I extricated myself. This woman would pop up several times in the days and months to come and I still don't really know who she is or what she was trying to achieve.
- Chapter 6 "Friday 4 May" pp. 111-112.
