After Sadie had left the previous afternoon, I had booked the non-stop Aircoach to Dublin, and a taxi to take me to the bus stop on Patrick’s Quay. A call to the Law Society had secured a reservation for the night. The rooms weren’t much cheaper than a mid-range hotel or B&B, even at members’ rates, but there was a permanent security presence and I hoped that I’d be adequately protected there. When I got off the bus at Bachelor’s Walk, in Dublin, I hailed a taxi to Blackhall Place, instead of walking as I normally would have. I had taken the non-stop bus instead of the train for the same reason, banking on there being less chance that I’d be intercepted by person or persons unknown. I hadn’t been as confident about my safety as I had pretended to Sadie.

I had spent my time on the bus thinking about Rhona and I wasn’t able to let go of the idea that I had played a big part in her death. Talking to Sadie had helped, but only up to a point. I had all those extra layers of guilt and shame that she knew nothing about; that none of my friends did.

But if I’ve learnt anything in my life, and at times I think I haven’t, it’s that going over and over something in my head only makes it worse, and prevents me doing anything that might improve the situation. So I put all of it away as best I could: it would still be there when I got back to it, which was another thing I’d learnt.

On the LUAS now, heading for Connolly Station, I didn’t know if I was being followed. I scanned the tram carriage. No familiar faces. Maybe Gill had changed personnel. Or maybe he wasn’t bothering to have me watched any more. That seemed more likely: that he reckoned he was off the hook. Untouchable – now that Rhona had been disposed of.

Especially as he had an alibi for the time of her death.

I thought back to the conversation I had had with Sadie the previous night. I had been sitting on the bed in my room at Blackhall Place, running through notes, when I’d got the call.

‘It’s not him,’ Sadie had said.

‘Not Gill?’