‘But if you’ve nothing to hide,’ Emer said, ‘then you don’t need to worry, do you?’

He drained his beer and put the bottle down carefully on the island.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just what I said. I don’t think you need to worry, that’s all.’

Robert opened the fridge door and took out another beer.

‘Friday night treat.’ He winked at Emer. ‘Don’t tell your mother. This can be our little secret.’

Apart from the second beer, he was exactly the same as always. Solid and reliable. If he was freaked out by hearing that Dee had called the house, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Then again, he was a politician. Hiding what he really thought was a key requirement of his job.

‘She had a photo,’ Emer said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Dee had a photo of myself and Kitty when we were young girls.’

‘So?’

‘So how did she get hold of it?’

‘Jesus, Emer, how the hell do I know? She was probably lying.’

‘She wasn’t lying. She described it in detail. It’s a photo from one of the albums in the sitting room. Except when I was looking through the album earlier, that particular photo was missing.’

‘This is getting ridiculous.’ Robert took another sip from the bottle before he continued. ‘This woman – what’s her name?’

‘Dee.’

‘Right. So she called tonight and said hi, I’m your long-lost cousin and I’m calling now because my parents are dead and I want to know more about the rest of my father’s family. Is that right?’

Emer nodded.

‘Did you exchange phone numbers?’

‘Well she already had our number,’ Emer said. ‘She called here, remember? But yes, we did exchange numbers. I gave her my mobile number and she gave me hers.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘Eastbourne.’

‘Okay.’ Robert nodded. ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult to find out if there really is a Dee Doran who lives in Eastbourne.’

Suddenly, Emer didn’t want to be here. She needed time to process everything she’d learned tonight and work out who she could trust. Robert or Dee. Or neither of them.

‘You’re right.’ Emer pretended to yawn. ‘I’ll look her up tomorrow. Right now, I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to bed if you don’t mind.’

‘Sleep tight.’ Robert lifted his glass in a mock salutation. ‘Sláinte.’

She was midway up the stairs when she knew she couldn’t let it go. Turning around, she went back down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping just inside the door, so she could leave quickly if she needed to.

‘I nearly forgot,’ she said. ‘You told me the woman I saw in London definitely wasn’t Kitty.’

‘That’s right.’ He sounded guarded now, less relaxed.

‘Because that’s what the private detective told you?’