‘And then some monster caved her head in. Left her covered in bruises. Her perfect, beautiful, innocent wee body. And she would’ve cried out for me, or her mammy. I know she would have. And that monster, he would have let her. He didn’t care. Not about her, or us. He broke her and he broke us, too. Then he left her, in the rain and the cold and the dark. In the water. Did Bernie tell you Kelly was afraid of the dark? She was always asking me to leave the big light on. And she lay there in the dark for three days …’

He dissolves into heavy sobs, which wrench free from his body with an almighty burst of noise. I see that Lisa is crying. A few staff members have come out of various back offices to see what the commotion is about and they stare at the spectacle with their eyes wide. Some are shaking their heads.

‘Please, just come through and sit down. We’ll get you a cup of tea. Call a taxi. You can’t drive in that state, Mr Doherty. Please. We can talk this through,’ I say.

It seems hopelessly inadequate, but it’s all I can offer.

He shakes his head but allows me to lead him through to an empty side office anyway, which is dusty, cold and unwelcoming. He sits down and puts his head in his hands while I nod to Lisa to make some sweet sugary tea. I’ll give him a chance to cry, I think. To let it all out. And then I’ll try to talk him round. As hard as this is, we do need the story. The story does need to be told.

In the meantime, I just sit down across the table from him and listen to his sobs, mixed with the ticking of a clock that is telling the wrong time, and I wonder how long it takes to boil a kettle. It’s not that I don’t feel for him. Of course I do.

When the door opens, my heart soars with relief. A cup of tea will help. It’ll settle him and bring him round. At least I hope it will.

My relief is short-lived, however, when I notice it isn’t Lisa pushing her way through the door but Ryan. He looks at Liam Doherty then at me, and he shakes his head. A heavy ‘I told you so’ hangs in the air.

‘Mr Doherty,’ he says, prompting Liam to look up. ‘I believe you wanted to see me.’

Mr Doherty brushes quickly at his cheeks, straightens himself. ‘I never want to see you, Murray,’ he snarls. ‘But I do want you to drop the story about my daughter. You’ve had your pound of flesh. Leave her in peace now. Leave us in peace now.’