‘Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t care who you slept with. I’m not judging you – I’m just asking if you slept with Robbie Murphy.’

‘No, I didn’t. Now get out, I’ve had enough of your patronizing for today.’

‘Fine. I’m going to the police.’

She laughs, a harsh sound that turns into a cough, and lights a cigarette.

‘And what exactly are you going to tell the police?’

‘That you left a ten-year-old in charge of a four-year-old. That I was put in a position where I had to administer what turned out to be lethal medication. That’s negligence.’ I’ve never said these words out loud, never even consciously thought them until now, and it feels good.

Her eyes flicker as blue smoke circles slowly to the nicotine-stained ceiling.

‘I mean it. I’ll go to the police. You had me terrified I’d go to some kind of detention centre; be taken away from you. It’s you who’d have been in trouble though, isn’t it? For leaving me home alone for days at a time. For locking her in. Why was she locked in?’

A blink, but no reply.

‘Fine. I’m going down to Blackrock Garda Station. There are two gardaí there I’ve got to know pretty well in the last few days – they’ll be very interested to hear what you were doing.’

I turn and put my hand on the door handle.

‘Stop.’

I face her again.

‘Sit.’

The armchair is dusty and there’s a food stain on the cushion but this barely registers. The truth is coming.

She fills a dirty glass from the whiskey bottle by the couch and takes a long swallow.

‘Lila wasn’t mine.’

Oh my God.

‘She wasn’t your sister. I was asked to mind her. Just for a few weeks. Then weeks became months and then – well, you know what happened. You ended it.’ A barked, cold laugh. ‘That was the end of the money too.’

Jesus Christ. ‘You did this for money? But who was she? And why were you asked to mind her?’

She shakes her head and zips her lips.

‘No, that’s all you get. I signed a non-disclosure agreement. If I give any details about her parents, I’ll have to return all the money and I don’t have it.’

‘You can’t be serious. It was thirty years ago! Who’s going to come looking for money from you now? You’re utterly deluded,’ I add, and on some level, I enjoy the surprise on her face.

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not taking any chances.’

‘Can I see a copy of the agreement?’

‘I don’t have one. There was just the original and’ – she pauses – ‘the mother took it with her.’

‘But what kind of mother gives up her child?’ Is that any worse than a mother who leaves her child alone, neglected?

‘Oh, you’d be surprised. That woman. She really thought she was something. With her money and her clothes and her accent. Looking down on me because I didn’t have a husband and a big house like she did.’ She takes a deep drag of her cigarette. ‘She thought she was so glamorous, with her long nails and her long hair and those stupid black cigarettes she smoked. Bitch. Served her right, what happened.’ She smiles.