‘Anyone get the connection? What was I just talking about?’

‘Uh, maybe Hitchcock?’ one of the boys said.

‘Ex-act-ly,’ Gill said. ‘What we have here with the very beautiful Carmel is a Hitchcock heroine, an ice blonde, a Grace Kelly, a Kim Novak, before she piled on the pounds.’

Gill threw back his head and laughed, and the group laughed too, even more loudly. Most of them hadn’t a clue who Kim Novak was, I could tell, but Gill had shown them that it was okay to laugh at her, and they did.

‘So, Carmel, are you up for a bit of acting today? I mean, I know you’ve done some acting. I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘Um, yeah. A bit, like, just school stuff.’

‘What age are you? Fifteen?’

Carmel nodded.

Fifteen, I was thinking: the same age Deirdre had been when she met Gill.

‘Sweet,’ Gill said. ‘Sweet.’

The students laughed, but Carmel didn’t. She kept her eyes on Gill. Rapt, she waited for what he was going to say next.

‘What the fuck do you mean just school stuff? Everyone does just school stuff, has to, even me. Even Bobby de fucking Niro.’

Carmel giggled.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. Good, Carmel, Step forward, great, you’re great.’

He put his arm around her and brought her to the front of the room, put his right index finger on her nose, and stared, a beat too long, into her eyes. I looked around at the teachers. All of them were smiling. They had suspended judgement, were as seduced by him as Carmel seemed to be. But they were adults, in positions of responsibility. She was fifteen, a child. She was in danger, I was sure of it.

And then, I wasn’t sure at all. I kept quiet and I kept watching. In retrospect, I see that I was every bit as useless as the rest of them.

‘Stay there, gorgeous,’ Gill said, and turned to face the room again. ‘Now, do we have a leading man? Or am I going to have to play that part myself?’

The girls squealed; the boys sat up in their chairs. Gill walked along in front of the group, like a sergeant inspecting dress uniforms before a parade.

‘Up hands who’s done some acting? All of you? Great, like I told the lovely Carmel, it’s a good way to learn.’

He stopped in front of one of the college students, a slim, dark-haired boy with full red lips.

‘You, I like,’ Gill said. ‘You want this?’

‘Definitely,’ the boy said.

He stood, tall and straight.

‘Good attitude. How old are you, soldier?’

‘Nineteen, Mr Gill. Twenty next month.’

Four, five years older than Carmel. Was that why Gill had chosen the mix of college and school students – because he wanted an age gap? But what was he planning?

‘An older man, Carmel,’ Gill said, and looked back at her.

She smiled.