He sat at the table to eat it. There was an itch to bolt, hide in the bedroom, but maybe that looked more dubious. Matty leant against the wall instead. ‘Is that your car, then?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, through a mouthful of cake.

‘Were you in an accident?’

He glanced up, guiltily. ‘I’m not the world’s greatest driver.’ He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘A new one’s coming.’ He’d eaten the cake in about five bites. ‘Need the bathroom?’ He stood. The blotches on his face had started to fade.

‘No.’

‘Sure?’ It was really hard to tell whether there was the slightest joke in there or not.

‘Yep.’

His nod was slight, before he moved past.

He was still there when Brigid came home. On his third piece of cake, taking the piss out of her for chopping vegetables. ‘My sister, Ireland’s only vegetarian,’ he said, half to Matty.

‘Oh, shut it,’ Brigid said. ‘Honestly. You’d think we were still in the bloody seventies.’

‘She has to order pineapples from abroad,’ he said, sliding the cake plate over towards him. Matty attempted a smile.

‘You’re the one coming over so you can be fed properly. All you ever eat is chips.’

‘What did you think of it up there, then?’ he said, suddenly looking over.

Matty swallowed. ‘Up where?’

His expression was flinty, deadpan. ‘Donegal. Glenveagh and all that.’

‘Pretty nice.’

‘You been to Slieve League?’

‘No.’ Blinking, trying to remember the map. ‘Didn’t make it that far.’

‘Ah well, you should. Pretty impressive, if you like that sort of thing. Maybe hold off on climbing them, though, if you want to keep all your bones in the right place.’

‘Do you know Rosbeg?’ Matty said, not quite to either of them. ‘On the west coast.’

‘Don’t think so,’ Cormac said. ‘Bridge?’

‘I’m not sure I’ve been quite to there. It’s a lovely area, though. Done?’ She reached for his plate.

‘Cheers, Bridge. You’re a wonder.’

‘How’s the investigation going?’ she said, turning to the sink.

Matty stared at the table.

‘Ah, you know. All right. Nothing I haven’t seen before.’

‘He was a bad fella, was he?’ Her brother looked at her. ‘That’s what the paper said.’

‘He’d got plenty of form,’ Cormac said. ‘The whole family’s rotten to the core. Continuity stuff, weapons, you know, always fighting among themselves. There was talk of a lad in a van, but I reckon it’s one of the Sligo boys that did for him. And you didn’t hear any of that from me.’

A numb, crushing weight. Sternum, collarbone, throat.

Brigid didn’t look at Matty. ‘God, it’s appalling. You’d think this might have died down a bit more now. Wishful thinking.’