I hate that she worries about me so much. It wasn’t exactly the plan, landing back here but I wish they’d stop making such a big deal of it. Constantly trying to fix things. Things they don’t even know are broken. Only I can fix things. Only I know what’s broken.

I lift the lid of my laptop. My portal into everyone else’s world. With my fingers on the keyboard, I continue my quest and type the name of the person who broke me. Tara Moore.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Yesterday was boring. I didn’t meet any old friends at the yacht club like Mam had hoped, because there never were any old friends. Tara was my only real friend. Mam seems to forget that. I think she’s getting me mixed up with my sister, or else she’s decided to re-write history. Which wouldn’t be the first time.

With my bag packed, I go downstairs and listen to the whispers behind the big white door. Mam will be making a lunch for me, a few snacks, just in case. My father will be sitting at the table, flicking through the pages of The Irish Times, telling her she shouldn’t bother; that I won’t appreciate it. It’s crazy to think a thirty-year-old doctor is still being treated like a teenager in school.

I’m about to push open the door when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m eager to hear from Tara because I need to know where Andriu will be staying. I need to set in motion a plan to bump into him. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I’m slightly disappointed to notice a withheld number instead of Tara’s but I answer it anyway.

‘Dr Faye Connolly?’

‘Speaking.’

‘This is Detective Siobhan Lee from the Pearse Street station. I was wondering if we could have a word.’

My heart is racing. I knew she would eventually make contact with me but it doesn’t soften the anxiety that hearing her actual voice sparks.

‘Can I ask what this is about?’ I know exactly what it’s about but I don’t want her to know that.

‘It’s nothing for you to worry about. We want to ask you some questions about the time you lived at Huntley Lodge.’

‘Huntley Lodge. Gosh, that seems like a lifetime ago.’ I sound great. Totally in control. It’s like I’ve nothing to hide.

‘Would you be able to come to the station or would you rather I called in to you?’

I’m expected at the clinic in an hour so I won’t have time to stop off at some station miles from here to chat. And there’s no way I’m letting them call here. My father would never be able to let go of that embarrassment. It’s going to have to be the clinic.