‘I’m not walking away from it. I know exactly what happened. I’ve spoken to Bernie Doherty and her son. And my car has been targeted again, so I’m right in the middle of the story.’ I spit the words at him, angry that he is goading me.

‘You’ve spoken to Bernie Doherty! When? What did she tell you?’

He hasn’t asked about my car or about me. If he wasn’t my boss, I would tell him to fuck off.

‘I saw her at the hospital. I was taken there, by the police, after I took a panic attack.’

I recall the look on Bernie’s face, the fear. Her telling me I couldn’t say anything. There was something so raw and real in her expression that I feel a need to protect her.

‘She was in shock. She wasn’t making much sense, to be honest, but by all accounts, he’s in a bad way. And for all I know the people behind that are the same ones who have been targeting me, so there is not one single chance in hell that I am going anywhere near Creggan tonight.’

To my shame, my voice breaks as I finish talking and the sob I’ve been holding in rises up and explodes from my mouth. It’s as if Bernie’s fear has invaded every cell in my body. I can feel it. I can imagine the horror she endured. Her helplessness. What these people are capable of, it’s inhuman. If those men could do that to Liam Doherty, and make his poor, broken wife watch, then what other horrific acts could they be responsible for?

I can’t seem to pull myself together, even though I’m mortified that Ryan is hearing me so vulnerable. This is the last thing I want.

‘Ingrid.’

His voice is softer now and for a second I wonder if he will have some comfort for me, after all.

He doesn’t. Of course.

‘I don’t want to say I told you so, but—’ he says.

‘Then don’t say it, Ryan. You don’t have to be an arrogant arsehole all the time.’

‘I’m not trying to be an arsehole,’ he protests. ‘You’ve had an horrific evening by the sound of it. Anyone would understand if you wanted to walk away from the story now. It’s not admitting defeat. I’ll speak to one of the freelancers. They can take over for tonight. We’ll talk again on Monday.’

‘Thanks,’ I say weakly.

‘Do you want me to come over?’ he asks. ‘I can feed Jen a line about something. I can try and distract you?’

I know what Ryan’s idea of distraction is and it’s the very last thing I want.

‘No. No, I’m grand. I’m going to try and sleep,’ I tell him, and we say our goodbyes.