‘Something happened. Something sudden and catastrophic. All I know is that she was never the same after the Film Festival in 1998. And I know she met Gill there. So if you’re investigating Deirdre, you have to look at Gill. I only wish I’d looked more closely.’

I felt buoyed by Colm O’Donnell’s hatchet job. Before he left, I took his contact details, asked him to say nothing of what we’d spoken of to anyone, and to phone me if he thought of anything else. But as I waited for Aifric Sheehan to come into the room, my critical faculties kicked back in. If O’Donnell had been trying to distract me from looking at him, he couldn’t have done a better job. I had lapped up his attack on Jeremy Gill. It was called confirmation bias, wasn’t it – hearing something that accorded with your personal prejudices and giving it extra weight, as a result? It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out that I was after Gill. I’d as much as said it. Colm O’Donnell had given me what I’d wanted, without saying very much at all. And I had believed him. Still did. But if he had reason to question Gill’s behaviour, to link him to Deirdre’s breakdown, why hadn’t he said anything at the time? He had had well-formed suspicions. Maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to himself – or was there was some other reason? I’d have to keep an open mind about Mr O’Donnell. And I’d be more circumspect with Ms Sheehan.

‘Call me Aifric.’

Blonde, she was dressed all in pink, with dazzling laser-whitened teeth. But, to my disappointment, she remembered little about the Film Festival.

‘It was more Deirdre’s thing than mine, to be honest, though at that age I’d have done anything for a few days off, anything for a laugh! And the irony of ending up as a geography teacher and I never even liked geography!’

She said that she had lost touch with Deirdre completely after she got sick.

‘Like, you know, we all tried to keep up the old friendship for a while but she wanted to be left alone, that’s what she kept saying, and if you keep saying it often enough, people take you at your word.’

There was a callousness to Aifric Sheehan, for all her Rose of Tralee looks. But I played along, thanking her at length for all her help and commenting on how upsetting it must have been for her to see Deirdre so unwell.

Aifric nodded.

‘You’ve no idea, Finn, you’ve absolutely no idea.’

‘You all met Jeremy Gill, didn’t you, at the Film Festival – what was he like?’

‘Octopus,’ Aifric said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘All hands.’

‘Jessica Murphy never said that.’