She’d been expecting Emer and her friend to be here, but there was no sign of them when she arrived. When she’d gone to get her spare key, Ella had invited her in for a glass of wine, but Dee had declined. All she wanted was to be by herself. It was a relief when she got Emer’s message, telling Dee they’d decided not to come to Eastbourne this evening. It meant Dee didn’t have to pretend to be okay, when the truth was she was anything but.

The image of the dead man had haunted her all day, and continued to haunt her now she was back home. The sheer waste of a life. The police, who had questioned her repeatedly throughout the afternoon, had implied more than once that the death was murder, not suicide.

She’d thought they were going to keep her there, locked up in that place. Two detectives had interviewed her. She couldn’t remember either of their names, but one of them had given her a business card in case she later remembered anything else she could tell them about the dead man.

She’d already told them everything she knew, but it was clear they thought she was hiding something from them. She couldn’t blame them. Her account of how she’d ended up inside the flat sounded ridiculous – searching for a girl who didn’t technically exist because she’d drowned over twenty years ago.

When she’d come in earlier there’d been a message on the landline from Emer’s mother, asking Dee to call her as soon as she could. Dee hadn’t been able to face calling her back right away but now, fortified with wine, she went inside and dialled the number she’d found in her mother’s address book.

‘Ballincarraig 24696.’

‘Hello? Is this Ursula?’

‘This is she. Who’s calling, please?’

‘Ursula, it’s Dee Doran. Frank’s daughter. You left me a message.’

‘I need to speak to you about Emer,’ Ursula said. ‘Robert’s told me you called here on Friday night and filled her head with some story about her sister still being alive. As Kitty was my child, the least you could do is tell me what the hell is going on.’

If anything dodgy was going on, it would have involved my mother, not Robert.

Emer’s voice, like a warning.

‘I’m not quite sure myself,’ Dee said. ‘What did Robert tell you?’

‘Some cock and bull story about you telling Emer that her sister is alive and well and living in London. It was very irresponsible of you. Emer is fragile, you see. She suffers from poor mental health. I think the conversation she had with you has tipped her over the edge. She ran off somewhere after speaking to you and we’ve no idea where she is.’