Until I remembered Rhona’s story. Reaching behind me, I grabbed the handle of the kettle and swept it forward between me and Gill. I felt the heat of it through my clothes. He would feel it too.

‘Take your filthy paw off me, you fucker, or you’ll be peeling burnt skin off your dick for the next six months. I’ll burn too.’

He loosened his grip. Straightening, he looked down at me.

‘Oh, please. You’re too much. It’s like a game of Cluedo. Miss Fitzpatrick in the kitchen with the kettle. Do you really think I’d let you hurt me?’

His hand tightened again briefly. Then he let go, stepped back and walked slowly towards the stairs. He stood at the top for a moment and looked at me.

‘This was surprisingly good fun,’ Gill said. ‘Goodbye, Finn. See you soon.’

He took his phone out of his pocket, and he must have made a call as he went down the stairs, because I could hear his voice talking softly to someone, though I couldn’t hear what he was saying. The front door slammed and I sank to the floor.

36

Once my terror had subsided, I was utterly confused. Had Gill driven to Cork to frighten me? The idea that he had would have made a lot more sense if I hadn’t known about my car: I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Joey was responsible for that and possibly – no, probably – for what had happened to Deirdre. As for Gill, there was no doubt that he was a rapist – Rhona had confirmed that – but he had insisted that he was innocent of killing her. Was that why he had come? He had an alibi. The guards believed him. I was starting to think that I had been wrong all along.

But what if I had been right? What if Gill was guilty? The fact that he had come down all the way to see me might mean that he was losing control, and if he was losing control, he might start to make mistakes. Was that what his visit was? The start of an unravelling?

And what next? Should I make a formal complaint? Report this morning’s incident to Lenihan? But what had I to report? I looked in the mirror. Gill had been clever, he had left no bruises or marks on my neck. He had walked into my house through an open door, had told me he wasn’t going to rape and kill me, but that he was consulting his lawyers and planning to sue me. I had never been as scared of anything or anyone in my life, but none of it would translate into a charge that would stick. My credibility was hanging by a thread. I didn’t want to risk compromising it further.