‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so generous with your time and your help – I can’t tell you how much Sean and Ann Carney will appreciate it. Do you know them yourself?’

‘Not at all, unfortunately, though I’m aware of them, of course. I wasn’t working here when Deirdre, God rest her, was a pupil, but the school sent a representative to her funeral. Two, actually, the two you’ve asked to see. Miss Sheehan and Mr O’Donnell.’

‘Perhaps it’s best if I see them so, rather than taking up too much more of your valuable time? And I’d like to see them individually, if that’s all right?’

‘Individually?’ MacGiolla asked. His smile was even more strained.

‘Essential,’ I said. ‘Everyone has their own recollections, and I know that Aifric, Miss Sheehan, knew her as a friend rather than as a teacher so it might be inappropriate to see them together.’

‘Well, of course, you’re right, yes, inappropriate, yes.’

He stood and moved quickly towards the door.

‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘I have the Student Counselling Room set aside for you down the hall.’

Broom cupboard might have been a better description. The tiny room held three mismatched lumpy armchairs, a box of Tesco Value tissues and a musty-smelling bunch of dried flowers on a Formica-topped coffee table. It looked like pupil mental health wasn’t top priority.

‘Mr O’Donnell, the art teacher, I presume,’ I said, and shook hands with the lean, handsome, shaven-headed man who came in a few minutes later. Dressed in black and well groomed, he looked like an architect.

‘For my sins,’ he said. ‘Colm’s the name. And you’re Finn, here to talk about Deirdre Carney.’

‘That’s right. Deirdre’s parents have asked me to look into what happened when she was a pupil here. They trace her mental breakdown to her Transition Year at St Finbarr’s. You knew her well, I believe?’

‘Yes,’ Colm said. ‘Though she gave up art for the Leaving Cert, so I saw less of her in fifth and sixth year. And she was absent a lot too, of course.’

‘You had a fair bit to do with her around the time of the Film Festival when she was in Transition Year?’

‘The Film Festival?’ Colm asked. ‘Well, yes, I suppose I did.’

‘You seem surprised at the mention of the festival,’

‘I am. I’m surprised you’re here at all. It’s kind of out of the blue, isn’t it?’

I ignored the question.

‘Could you tell me about the lead-up to the Film Festival, how Deirdre came to be on the youth jury?’ I asked.