‘Down to the lough.’

‘Ah, there are some good spots. That’s a big bag,’ she said.

‘Wetsuit.’

Brigid gazed over, as if just realising something. ‘You’re a swimmer,’ she said. ‘I thought you might have been a surfer, but – I suppose no board.’

‘Not much swimming right now.’ I’ve never not gone in, Matty wanted to say, wanting to tell her everything. Not ever. It’s all I am. If I’m not that, then—

‘Give it time.’ She turned the oven down. ‘I’m baking soda bread. A sweet version.’ She looked over, one of her dark eyebrows elegantly raised. ‘You want some?’

I want to die. I want my dad. Matty sat down at the table and took a deep breath. ‘OK.’

Chapter 9

‘Ten or twenty?’

This morning, Matty had turned in the opposite direction to the lake, hood up and curls scraped back underneath it. The shop was a mile’s walk away, houses dotted along the small road. Brigid offered to go after school but Matty insisted. Might as well brave the world before it ended.

The cashier had already turned to the shelf. It was a newish shop – Brigid had said more had been springing up since the lifting of the customs barrier. They didn’t sell Slim-Fast.

‘Ten’s fine.’ Matty had started back on half of one a day, hardly breathing any in.

‘Cutting down?’ She gave a quick-flicked grin. She resembled someone familiar, maybe the girl from the cafe in Golders Green years ago, blond, green eyes. There was a raised mole in the middle of her cheek.

‘Something like that.’ Matty added a postcard of the lough, trying not to wince with the pain.

‘Oh, are you on holiday?’ She gave the faintest glance to the fading cuts and bruises.

‘No, just – staying with a friend.’ A smile.

She smiled back. ‘Enjoy yourself, then.’

Matty thought of the smile on the slow walk back, the significant gap in her teeth, and of what to write to Heather. Unexpected stop off. Can’t swim. Can’t leave until I’ve swum. Might be close to Joe. Might not. Mate. I killed someone.

There’d been no more news. Not on TV and not in the papers Brigid had started bringing back. Matty needed to run, to London, to anywhere. But the thought of Joe and the closeness of the Ros-places kept returning. Brigid said Cormac didn’t know anything, that she’d ask about the case, and Matty had said not to. It would only seem more suspicious.

A car was parked on the bank outside Brigid’s house. It had a long scratch all along one side and an uneven dent over part of the front and passenger doors. An image of Dale’s crashed car, blinked away. The back door to the house was unlocked.