I hesitate, guilt eating away at me, and Mark mistakes it for something else.

‘I know you see her because of what happened to your parents, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you bringing up the whole Lily thing and the new house and how it’s making you feel? Maybe there’s a link even – your own childhood trauma rearing up because you’re thinking about what happened to Lily?’

A link. I wish it was as simple as a link.

‘Look, I can see it’s going around and around in your head and I think you need to do something proactive now,’ he continues. ‘Or nothing will change, it’ll just keep driving you mad. And surely Dr Kinsella is the person to advise?’

I nod and promise I’ll do as he suggests.

Do something proactive. Those are the words that are running through my head as I drive towards Woodbine Street on Tuesday evening. Mark is right. Thinking and worrying and googling is getting me nowhere. The more I look at photos of Lily, the more I see a resemblance; she’s familiar now because I keep examining the same pictures. But the date … that’s more concrete. I know Lila was three when she came to us. And I know I was nine, which makes it 1985. Was it July? I’m not sure. But I’m certain of the year, and maybe I need to start asking direct questions now, to the people who were there back then – people like Susie and Cora and Fran. I need to know if Lily was my sister. If Lila was Lily.

Not too direct though, warns a voice in my head. No questions that could raise suspicions or lead back to me. I just want the truth, so I can move on.

I start with Susie, calling her from the car on my way to Woodbine Street.

‘Joanna! So nice to hear from you. Is everything OK?’

‘Yeah, I’m on my way to Dr Kinsella, and I still have that whole Lily Murphy story rumbling around in my head, so I wanted to ask you a few things about it, if that’s OK?’

‘Well, of course!’

‘I was wondering if anyone ever called Lily by a nickname?’

‘Mmm. Her mother called her Lilybug, sometimes. Mary was American. That always seemed like a very American nickname to me.’

‘Any other names? Lila maybe?’

‘Lila? No. It doesn’t ring a bell. But then this was thirty years ago. And I couldn’t say what other names Mary and Robbie might have called her at home. I used to call Mark all sorts of things. I remember—’

I jump in quickly before she goes down memory lane. ‘Oh, I’m nearly at Dr Kinsella’s – can I just check something else with you real quick. Did Lily have any health issues – an illness?’

‘Illness? She got colds like anyone else, I’m sure, and I remember she had a fever a few weeks before she went missing. Is that the kind of thing you mean?’