I walked down Barrack Street, turning right at the bottom to go over the Nano Nagle footbridge. The river was mud brown and fat with flood, broken tree limbs rushing by, reminders of how bad the storm had been. The day was dull and quiet, nothing unusual for November. Except that it was a Saturday, and I was on my way into town to start an unofficial investigation into an Oscar-winning film director. If I stopped to think about how unusual that was I might come up with other words, like deluded, misguided and foolish. I didn’t stop.

The Film Festival office occupied the upper storeys of a plush interiors shop on Emmett Place, opposite the red-brick Crawford Art Gallery. The festival, Ireland’s oldest, has been running annually since 1956, and prides itself on its commitment to short films. Winning one of the main shorts prizes at Cork is prestigious and has the added bonus of getting the film on to the Oscar longlist. I had been a board member for three years. Together with the rest of the directors, I had a duty to supervise the festival’s management and operation on behalf of the Arts Council and the local authority. The role is unpaid and, at times, the commitment can be considerable. As a result, more often than not, board members are drawn from film fans and regular attendees at the festival.

I climbed the stairs. Open plan, the main room was filled with bleary-eyed, worried-looking people, the same as every year: last-minute hitches, difficult guests, organised chaos and a sense of impending doom that dissipated as soon as the opening film was under way. Holding the place together for the last decade was Alice Chambers, a tiny woman with stylishly cropped grey hair, Clark Kent glasses and a work ethic that put most of the lawyers I knew to shame.

‘Gimme that fast!’ Alice said. ‘I’m gasping.’

She grabbed the coffee from me.

‘You’re welcome, Alice,’ I said.

‘Shut up, you big eejit, and come into my room for a sec, if you can find a space.’

Alice’s office was piled high with stacks of boxes and reams of paper. With some difficulty, the two of us managed to get in the door and close it behind us.

‘Now,’ Alice said. ‘What’s so urgent?’

I had to be careful. I needed to keep what Sean had told me confidential, even if he might have been happy if I’d spread it to the four winds and ruined Gill’s reputation.

‘I was lying in bed last night, Alice, and it came to me that it’s a couple of years since I reviewed the festival’s child protection policy. I just wanted to make sure that everything’s still going all right. A bit of a pain, I know, but could you run through it with me briefly, how you’re applying it, what you’re doing this year, etc.’