‘But what if she didn’t fall in the river?’ Adana asks. ‘What if you find out something even worse happened? Do you really want to know?’

That, I think, as I notice Fran still looking out of the window, is a good question.

Susie is bearing down on us, one hand aloft in greeting, the dewy lawn sucking her kitten heels.

‘Joanna! We are loving your party. Tom’s just taking a little break inside, so I thought I’d do the rounds. So strange to be back in this garden, all these years later … I remember the parties Mary and Robbie used to have. Gosh, they were happy times. And always the best food and drink. You know how some people hide the good wine when they have guests?’

I nod, hoping this isn’t a reference to Mark and me, and the ten-euro-a-bottle supermarket Malbec we bought for tonight.

‘Well, Robbie and Mary were the opposite. Best wine, best whiskey. Super hosts. I remember once they even hired staff to cater. Just neighbourhood girls but still, believe me, nobody did that in the eighties.’ Her gaze travels the breadth of the garden again. ‘So strange to think back on everything that happened … Anyway, we won’t dwell.’ She turns to Adana. ‘Adana, isn’t it? We met at Emily’s tenth birthday party?’

‘Yes, nice to see you again, Mrs Stedman.’

‘Oh, don’t be Mrs Stedman’ing me – I’ll feel ancient! Where are you from originally, Adana?’

I wince, knowing exactly what Susie means, but it doesn’t faze Adana.

‘We’re just down the road in Dún Laoghaire, near Joanna’s old house, but I’m from here originally – I grew up in Oakbrook.’

‘Yes, but I mean—’ Susie looks her up and down, then decides against what she was about to say. ‘Oakbrook is where we are! I’m absolutely thrilled to have Joanna and Mark so near. Actually, why don’t you both join my Edenvale Ladies’ Book Club? We’re looking for new members in the locality.’

Adana’s eyes widen and I hide a smile.

‘Honestly,’ Susie goes on, ‘you’ll love it. We’re reading one about this girl who disappears and her husband’s trying to find her. I can’t think of the name. First Tuesday of the month, eight p.m., rotating around the houses. Oh.’ She stops and looks at me. ‘That’s your you-know-what time, isn’t it? Your’ – she lowers her voice to a whisper, although Adana, the only other person in earshot, can still hear her perfectly – ‘therapy?’

‘Yes. It’s OK to say it.’ I smile. ‘It’s not a secret. Adana knows.’

‘It’s different now, I suppose,’ Susie concedes. ‘Back in my day, only people on American TV shows went to therapy. But after what you went through, I’m not one bit surprised. Although …’ She pauses. I brace myself. ‘You’d think she’d be done by now? Dr Kinsella? That she’d have, you know, cured you? I mean, she’s a doctor, after all. Are you sure you’re going to the best person? It’s been years …’