‘At the start, he’d go there every day. For hours. He’d bring a book and read to her, you know. Buy her some of the toys she wanted, the dolls and teddies, and put them on her grave. When the snow fell that year, I had to wrestle a blanket from him. “She’ll be cold,” he told me. “It’s too cold up there.”

‘He had a breakdown, you know. Ended up in Gransha for a spell. The “madhouse” as he called it. I remember being jealous of him, that he got to escape it all for a while. They had him so doped up he didn’t know his own name, while I was left trying to pick up the pieces. With three boys who didn’t have a clue what was going on and that trial coming up. There’s days I wonder how I’m still standing at all.’

I look at the fragile, broken figure sitting opposite me. I know she’s just existing. She stopped living the same time Kelly did.

Chapter Eighteen

Ingrid

Thursday, 24 October 2019

On Thursday morning I pick up my car before work and I’m glad to do so. The mechanic has done a good job and even though I’d rather be spending my money on something nice instead of paying for a respray and new window, I feel comforted to get back behind the wheel.

I drive the short distance to the City Cemetery and sit for a while, trying to take in all that I have heard over the last few days. The interview with Bernie Doherty has got under my skin and my sleep last night was fitful at best.

There is an air of sadness hanging over me. I am not made of stone. I cannot escape the feeling that I’m now somehow touched by their pain, too – that it has been added to the mountain of tragic stories I’ve heard over the years that now keep me awake at night. Not that I wasn’t touched by what happened to Kelly all those years ago anyway. We all were.

The streets we used to play on remained deserted for months. At school, there was a silence that was never there before. I remember seeing a teacher, Miss McDowell, crying in the corridor. There was a special assembly, where we were told it was okay to be sad. It was okay to miss Kelly. And then a policeman told us all about stranger danger and what to do if anyone tried to kidnap us.

I was terrified. We all were, I think. Terrified of every car or van that passed us. Terrified of the dark. Terrified each time we passed the framed picture of Kelly that had been erected outside the principal’s office and were reminded of what had happened.