That tightness in the chest, the sweaty palms, that lump in the back of his throat; all the tell-tale signs were there, including that familiar indecision to swing a clumsy fist or break down in tears. Some people thrived on conflict. Ben hated it. But maybe – just maybe – he hated Alec Sparling more.

Chloe fidgeted constantly, biting her thumbnail down to the quick. One leg was crossed over the other with a boot quivering above the floor like a dead body dangling from a noose, convulsing from the trauma of its final seconds. This was Sparling’s doing. He had wormed his way inside her head. Ben watched as her lips parted to talk, only to clamp shut again.

‘What happened to the others?’ she asked, finding her voice, but it all came out too fast, her words exploding like trapped air pressure.

‘And who, Ms Coogan, are you referring to when you say the others?’

‘Carol Fortune,’ Ben said before she could answer, ‘and the other perfect candidates that you failed to tell us about.’

‘Mr French,’ Sparling replied, accenting his surprise. ‘You know much more than you’re letting on, don’t you? Wherever did you hear that name?’

‘Cut the shit, Alec,’ he snapped back. ‘What happened to her?’

‘Ms Fortune and the others met with the same misfortune. There was always someone who couldn’t keep their mouth shut. One wouldn’t be blamed for thinking that the villagers want the curse to spread. But I assure you, that is certainly not the case.

‘The adults don’t talk of him. They know better. Well, most of them do. It’s difficult to hold the tongues of those born with some defect of the mind, and Tír Mallacht has its fair share of those. It’s the inbreeding, you see – it presents myriad complications. The children were to blame on almost every occasion. Mischievous little things, as I’m sure you know, Mr French.

‘That was how Ms Fortune encountered the curse, through the whispered warnings of a child who found fun in sharing secrets. It attached to her as it has attached to you. She didn’t call for help like some of the others did. Maybe, like you, Mr French, she thought it was some practical joke in the poorest taste. I never did discover where Ms Fortune was on her last night when the creeper came for her. Her body is still missing. After so much time we can assume it will never be found.’

‘My God,’ Chloe whispered, lowering her face into her hands.

‘Don’t believe a word of it,’ Ben said. ‘Let’s just take the money that—’