“I’ve been trying to. It was a long time ago, so it’s never going to be crystal clear. It wasn’t the first time we slept together, I know that for sure. We’d done it before, in London, at least once. I know because I remember her telling me she had a boyfriend who she was serious about, and we agreed it was just going to be a one-off. Belfast was maybe a couple of weeks later. We’d had a stressful day shooting with an ex-militia contact who’d brought us to a flat overlooking this back alley where a Catholic girl was going to be punished by some Provos for consorting with a ­British soldier. It was extremely grueling to watch. They stripped her half-naked and tarred and feathered her, and we got the whole thing on camera. Julia and I and the camera crew went back to the hotel and had a few drinks to decompress. At some point the crew went off to eat but she and I stayed in the bar. We were drinking whisky, I remember that, and she was matching me shot for shot. We kissed a bit in the bar and like she says, I invited her up to my room where I’m sure, knowing my twenty-something-year-old self, I was fully intending to get her into bed. I don’t recall her mentioning her boyfriend that time. I’m not saying she didn’t, but what would have been the point, since I already knew about him? But let’s say she did, and let’s say she did express some misgivings about being unfaithful again, even some outright reluctance, there’s still no way I’d have coerced her, and more to the point, there’s no way she’d have let herself be coerced. You knew Julia in those days . . .”

He looked at me, and I nodded.

“She was a force, right?”

“She was.”

He turned back to Caitlin:

“I mean, not in the sense of being an extrovert or boisterous—she could seem quite reserved sometimes. But once you got to know her you’d realize she was someone who knew how to handle herself. She wouldn’t have submitted to anything she didn’t want to do, not without putting up a fight. She certainly wouldn’t have spent the entire night with me if I’d made her do anything remotely against her will, but that’s what she did. I remember that part very clearly, because we were both so hung over in the morning we almost missed the taxi to the airport. The cameraman had to drag us out of bed.”

“Are you still in touch with him?” I asked. “The cameraman?”

Marco thought for a moment.

“No. But I could probably track him down . . . That’s a good point.”

“Not that it would prove anything even if he remembered,” I said.

“True, but still . . .”