I flicked on Radio 1, made a pot of camomile tea, and switched off the lamp. It was a little after eleven and Country Time was just starting. I sat and gazed over the lights of the city. I heard George Jones sing ‘He Stopped Lovin’ her Today’ and lost myself for a while. But, after a time, my mind drifted back to the case. I had forgotten to check the name of the education officer in the programme – I’d do that tomorrow. And I needed to contact Jessica Murphy in the morning. See her then too, if I could, because I had other plans for Sunday afternoon, plans that involved Davy Keenan, though he didn’t know it yet.

I picked up my phone and texted Davy back: ‘Home. Doing nothing. You?’

He must have had his phone in his hand because within seconds he’d texted back ‘Nada’.

I wasn’t surprised. Careful of his sobriety, Davy avoided Saturday nights in town. I wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if I asked him to come over. There, in the dark, I could admit that I was attracted to him, and not only because he was gorgeous-looking and funny and smart. I had enough insight to know that Davy, an ex-addict, was perilous territory, an emotional minefield. I knew about repetition compulsion, how we are programmed to seek out the familiar. Davy was a push–pull for me: something in him spoke to something in me, something I had to keep under control.

‘Want do something tomorrow afternoon?’ I typed.

‘Could be persuaded maybe, what is it?’ Davy replied.

‘Muskerry Castle? Afternoon tea? My treat. Dress up – what you think?’

‘Sounds good,’ Davy replied.

‘Fab. Will phone for reserv, will text you time. PS you’re driving,’ I wrote.

‘Guessed I would be,’ Davy replied.

‘Hmmm. See you tomorrow. Night night.’

‘You will. Sleep tight,’ Davy replied.

I left my phone on the side table and went to my bedroom, on the middle floor of the tower house, and undressed for bed. I was regretting my trip to La Tana. Delicious at the time, the pizza lay like a boulder in my stomach.

I fell asleep quickly but was awake again after ten minutes, drifting in and out of consciousness for the second night in a row. As I lay in the darkness, I went over and over what had happened that day, what I knew, and what I didn’t, puzzling still over the broken computer symbol. At around 4 a.m., I remembered, or thought I did, where I’d seen it before.