‘Oh, it was just a silly misunderstanding. Our dog, Bella – she was just a puppy, really – snapped at their son. She hardly touched him. A playful little nip. But Charlotte made such a fuss about it – kicked up an absolute storm. And we were their tenants, remember, so I could hardly object too strongly.’

She is surprised to find her heartbeat accelerating in her chest. All these years later, that indignation kicking to life again.

Jake rubs his chin, quietly forming his own opinions.

He must think I’m quite mad, she thinks.

‘She was a very unhappy woman,’ Greg says. ‘I don’t think the suburban life of a south-Dublin housewife suited her. I suppose she felt trapped.’

Hilary finds herself listening carefully. Something thoughtful in his voice. It makes her wonder how often those memories of the past turn over in his head. Do they stir to life inside him as they do in her?

‘Trapped by what?’ Leah asks.

‘By the choices she made. By her marriage. He was very controlling. I’ve no doubt he was a difficult man to live with.’

Hilary doesn’t say anything. She makes no attempt to contradict him. Instead, she sits very still.

‘I once overheard her telling someone about how he picked out the clothes she was to wear each morning. He used to write lists for her of the meals she was to prepare, the activities she was to organize for the children, what music she was to practise on the piano. That’s how controlling he was.’

‘It doesn’t sound like Anton.’

Hilary’s eyes flick to her. Does she imagine it, or does Leah sound defensive? A cold feeling pools in her stomach. ‘Do you see much of him?’ she asks, keeping her voice neutral, though her thoughts are racing.

‘Not really. He’s in his garden sometimes.’

‘We hear him upstairs,’ Jake says, ‘dragging across the floor at all hours of the night. The keys on that bloody piano going plinkity-plonk at three fucking a.m., right above our heads! He’s like a crab, scuttling sideways around that house.’

‘Jake,’ Leah says, a warning in her voice.

‘Mark claims the old man is innocent,’ Jake continues, ignoring her, ‘but I’ve my doubts. He gives me the creeps. And now he’s started sending Leah love notes.’

‘Stop it,’ she says, a little more insistent now.

‘Love notes?’ Hilary asks. It’s an effort to keep the smile from falling off her face.

‘Not love notes, and there was only one,’ the younger woman says.

Two spots of colour have appeared high in Leah’s cheeks. Hilary notes them, the tightness of her mouth, that sense of drawing in.

‘Oh, come on, all that guff about Greek mythology – the gods and the mortals and their various trysts.’