‘You hadn’t heard about it already?’ McCarthy asks then.

‘I heard it on the radio this morning.’ My voice is shaking. ‘I didn’t know it was Cora though.’

‘Did you know her well?’

‘Not at all.’ The answer comes out quickly. ‘I only met her for the first time last Friday,’ I tell her, forcing some composure. ‘We had a housewarming and she came with a mum from the school, Liz Landry. She and Cora are neighbours.’

Walsh is flipping pages in a notebook and nods at McCarthy as if confirming what I’ve said.

‘And have you had any interactions with her since?’

‘Yes. I messaged her on Monday night and we went for coffee on Tuesday.’

McCarthy cocks her head, as though waiting for more, her grey eyes boring into mine. What is she looking for? Why is she here?

‘I wanted to get to know the neighbours and I’ve recently finished up in my job, so I’m at a loose end during the day sometimes.’ I give a small smile. McCarthy doesn’t smile back.

‘So coffee on Tuesday – and any communication since then?’

‘I …’ Jesus. Do I say it or not? What if they take my phone? ‘I messaged her on Wednesday.’

‘About?’

Fuck. ‘About … well, it’s a long and not very interesting story, but I found out last week that this house used to belong to the parents of Lily Murphy, a little girl who disappeared in 1985.’

McCarthy nods, giving nothing away.

‘Go on.’

‘It’s been on my mind ever since. It’s a bit unsettling, living here, knowing she was never found. I’m sure she drowned, just as the police at the time thought—’ I break off, waiting for perhaps a nod of confirmation. Yes, she drowned, no, you did not kill her. But there’s no nod. ‘Anyway, I’ve been doing a lot of googling to try to understand what happened. And I—’ Tread carefully. ‘I asked Cora about it in a text. She had said she didn’t want to talk about it – when we met for coffee. She was the last one to see Lily alive, so you can understand why she’s uncomfortable.’

A nod.

‘So what was in this text?’

I think about lying. But they can check my phone. They can check her phone, if it’s not crushed under a train. God.

‘I asked if she’d ever heard anyone call Lily any nicknames or other names.’

‘Why did you ask that?’

‘I … I saw a child on holidays once and thought she looked like Lily Murphy, but about ten years later. Ten years older, you know? I’m sure you hear of sightings like this all the time?’

A non-committal nod.

‘Anyway, it was a moot point, Cora had never heard anyone call Lily any nicknames.’

‘And this child you saw’ – there’s something in the way she says it, as though she doesn’t quite believe my story – ‘was there a specific name you heard used? A name you then asked Cora about?’