Another Bad Day at the Office was championed by youth jury member Deirdre Carney from Transition Year at St Finbarr’s Catholic University School.

If Deirdre had been on the youth jury, there was a chance that Gill had met her during the festival, especially as she had ‘championed’ his film. At the very least, he would have received a copy of the catalogue. And, if he had the catalogue, it was inconceivable that he wouldn’t have checked every mention of himself in it.

Even if they hadn’t met during the festival, Gill would’ve had to have known Deirdre’s face and name.

And where she went to school.

3

I crawled out of bed and into the shower. I had spent much of the night awake, thinking about what Sean Carney had said and what I should or shouldn’t do with the feeling I had that he might be right about Jeremy Gill. But even if Sean was right, from a legal point of view, pursuing Gill made no sense. The wisest thing I could do would be to tell Sean that I wouldn’t be able to help. His daughter was dead: case closed. I would follow up with the Film Festival, make sure their procedures were fit for purpose. Leave it at that. Yet, even as I was thinking it, I knew that I couldn’t let it drop. And that it wasn’t something I could let sit till the following week, not with the festival starting on Sunday. Besides, it could do no harm to investigate a little, surely? To reassure myself there was nothing to it?

I combed through my wardrobe. I rarely work weekends, but this wasn’t a normal Saturday. I might be meeting Sean at some point, who was a sort of client, so I was going to have to wear something half decent. I chose a grey wool dress, with wool tights in a darker grey, and pulled on my knee-high flat black leather boots. I twisted my hair into a messy bun, rubbed tinted moisturiser on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. Black circles around my eyes. Skin the colour of sour milk. Something that might turn into a spot on my chin. The tinted moisturiser wasn’t going to be enough. Yawning, I sat at my dressing table and clicked open my Mac foundation. On the way upstairs, I slid silver hoops into my earlobes.

I revived a little after a bowl of Flahavan’s organic porridge, made with milk, and a mug of Cork Coffee Roasters’ Morning Growler blend. Over breakfast, I messaged my friend Alice Chambers, the Film Festival manager, to say that I needed to see her this morning and would it be okay if I called into the office around nine?

Alice replied: ‘if u must!!! don’t expect much of a welcome!’

I laughed, and replied ‘short visit, will bring u capp.’

‘Okay,’ replied Alice.