‘Could be vandals,’ Chief Wilson said. ‘Or somebody with a grudge against you. Or maybe just some head-the-ball who likes starting fires. We’ve had one repeat offender over the last while, haven’t caught him yet. Though this looks a bit different to his usual modus operandi. Could be a copycat, or could be him trying something new. That’s why we always check through the crowd. Have a look yourself. These guys like to watch their handiwork.’

I did, but recognised nobody.

‘How did you contact me so fast?’

‘One of the residents in the Gregg Road flats. When he rang to report the fire, he said you’re parked in the same spot nearly every day, so he knew your car number. Once they had the reg, the guards were able to track you, I don’t know how.’

‘Maybe they got my mobile number from the phone company?’

‘Dunno, to be honest, girl, you’ll have to ask them yourself. They’re over there.’

He moved his chin up and his head to the right. I walked across to where two young Gardaí in yellow high-vis jackets were standing, and identified myself.

‘Hard luck,’ the bigger one said. ‘It must be a terrible shock altogether.’

Her eyes shone in the flames like it was bonfire night, and someone had just produced a pound of sausages. Not long out of Templemore, I reckoned.

‘A shock all right.’

The Garda said I could call into any station to get my car insurance claim form stamped. I nodded, and turned again to look at the fire.

‘Thanks for contacting me so fast,’ I said.

‘It was no bother. Once I had your name via the car registration, it clicked with me. You’re a solicitor. Your name and number are on the custody sergeant’s list.’

‘Mystery solved. By the way, what did you say your name was?’

‘I didn’t,’ the Garda said. ‘But it’s Ruth Joyce. From the Bridewell. It was me who rang you. I’ll be in touch about making a statement.’

Once the flames had died down, the fire truck pulled off and the guards left and the crowd drifted away. Eventually, I was left all on my own, beside the smouldering wreck that had once been my car. Was Gill responsible? Or someone else? But how? And why? Though the why was easily answered. Someone had intended to frighten me.

In that, they had succeeded, I thought later, as I locked my bedroom door and wedged a chair under the handle, and placed a carving knife under my pillow.

32

‘Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you call me last night?’ Davy asked.

‘Good question,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. Didn’t want to bother you, I suppose.’