‘That’s right. Of course, I remember Cillian. As a Wall of Death rider, he automatically qualified as a small boy’s hero. He was a genuinely nice bloke. Everyone seemed to like him, even Shunty-Mae, Imelda’s mother, and she was a tough nut to crack. There was just something about him. Well, that’s what I thought, but then I was only eleven. And I remember them talking about Marty, the manager, but I never met him. He had a real eye for the ladies, apparently.’

‘What about the women? Do you remember any of them? The contortionist? Sara-Jade something? Or the mermaids? I found a photograph of them at the auction the other day, but I’ve given it to Imelda.’

Treasure smiled. ‘Dolly, Daisy and the one with the very deep voice! What on earth was she called?’ He thought for a moment. ‘Dixie! Yes, I do remember them. They were so sexy that they scared me half to death.’

Billie climbed down from her stepladder and moved it along the wall. ‘They all had such impossibly glamorous names. Even your mum and auntie.’

‘Well, there’s a story behind Mum’s name. There was another sister too, Emerald, Jeanie’s mum. She died before I was born. The three of them were named after the stones in my grandma’s engagement ring. As for the Larkins lot, I suppose it was expected of the entertainment staff. Some of them were probably only stage names.’

Billie hadn’t thought of that. ‘What about Cillian? Do you suppose that was his real name?’

‘It seems likely. It’s a good traditional Irish name.’

They carried on painting in silence for a while, Billie wondering if perhaps her mother had been one of the mermaids. If so, Billie hadn’t inherited any of her talent. The best she could manage was an inelegant and far-too-splashy front crawl. And now she thought about it, her arm ached, and she was desperate for a mug of tea.

‘Time for a tea break, I reckon,’ she told Treasure. ‘My shout.’ As she wiped her hands on an old towel, Treasure had just reached the cubbyhole in the wall.

‘What’s in here?’

‘Secrets!’ Billie whispered melodramatically, and then laughed. ‘Imelda used to keep stuff in there for her clients. She said it was like a safety deposit box for secrets.’

‘Anything exciting?’

‘Hard to say. It’s empty now. But Imelda kept the things from my mother in there for all those years, and a bundle of photos that my dad sent her.’

Treasure’s hand was exploring the dark recess in the wall as Billie spoke. He touched cold metal. Not quite empty then.

‘So, Imelda was in contact with your adoptive dad?’ As he spoke, his fingers closed around the object he had found and then dropped it, startled by its familiar shape. Billie had turned away to fetch her coat.