This seems to be true of all of us. Who actually knew Cora?

‘Some folks are saying she jumped … I wonder was it guilt,’ Fran says now. ‘If she covered up for her father.’

‘I doubt it. She was eight. And—’ I pause for a moment, wondering if it’s my place to tell. With everyone dead, it probably doesn’t matter. ‘Cora says the police never interviewed her dad at all – it was Cora they came to see.’

Fran’s eyes widen. ‘Really?’

‘I guess it may or may not be true. Her mother told her before she died. It was because someone reported that Cora was hurting Lily.’

Fran folds her arms, nodding slowly, and I can’t help feeling I’ve just confirmed something she already guessed.

‘Anyway, we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,’ I continue, ‘and my mother-in-law was just saying it’s far more likely it was that man Eddie Hogan, or at least that the police should have asked him more questions. He had a go at Robbie apparently, for allegedly getting his daughter pregnant.’

‘Bullshit.’ Fran’s tone has changed completely.

‘Sorry?’

‘This has nothing whatsoever to do with the Hogans.’

‘But was it true? Was Zara Hogan pregnant with Robbie Murphy’s baby?’

Fran’s mouth is set in a tight line.

‘You mentioned that she’s your friend,’ I go on. ‘Could I talk to her?’

‘Absolutely not. Why are you raking all this up? Hasn’t there been enough upset around here?’ And with that, Fran turns her back and walks away.

28

June 1985

AS THE DOOR CLOSED behind Robbie and Mary on Saturday night, Fran switched on the TV, and Zara began poking around in the kitchen. Lily was already asleep. Thank God. The best kind of babysitting was the one without the baby.

Zara stuck her head around the door. ‘Wagon Wheels and Penguins!’ she said, brandishing multipacks. ‘Can I open both?’

Fran nodded, and slipped Zara’s bootleg copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street into the video recorder. Tonight, for once, would be easy money.

Four hours later, Fran woke with a start. Confused, she looked around with bleary eyes. On the television screen, black-and-white fuzz told her the film was long over, and beside her on the couch, Zara snored gently. White noise buzzed in Fran’s ears. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had woken her. A bump? From upstairs? Had Lily fallen out of bed?

There it was again. A creak, as though someone had stood on a floorboard.

She listened for a cry but there was nothing. Was that good or bad? Fran pulled herself off the couch and walked out to the hall. At the bottom of the stairs she stood, listening.

Silence.

She held her breath, suddenly sensing that someone else was doing exactly that – holding their breath, listening for her. Ridiculous. The horror film was getting to her. She started up the stairs, slowly and carefully, and paused again at the top to listen. Nothing.

She made her way along the landing and gently pushed Lily’s door. The room was in pitch darkness. On tiptoe, she crossed the bedroom floor towards the bed at the window. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out a shape.