‘Please, tell me! What’s happened?’

Sergeant Proctor took her trembling hand in his and said gently, ‘There’s been a fire at your daughter’s house. I’m very sorry to have to tell you that your grandson Vincent O’Casey died in it. The fire was too fierce for anyone to get to him and, believe me, your daughter tried. She’s suffered third-degree burns on her hands as a result. Both she and your granddaughter are in the Old London. Your granddaughter is unharmed though – she’s just being treated for smoke inhalation.’

Cynthia could hear the Sergeant’s words, but she couldn’t take in what he was saying. ‘But they weren’t in the house! Why were they in the house? They were staying at my dad’s. Cherie told me on the phone that they were staying at my dad’s . . .’ She was shaking with shock. She looked into the Sergeant’s eyes, pleading with him to tell her that none of it was true. When she had sneaked into the house, no one had been there – the house had been empty. She knew that because they were supposed to be at her fucking dad’s! Oh, why could her daughter never do what she was supposed to! Now look what had happened. If that girl could only do what she was supposed to . . .

‘You’re wrong. You must be wrong. My daughter and my grandkids are at my dad’s. You’ve got the wrong house, the wrong people . . .’ Cynthia started to cry then. ‘Please . . . Please tell me you’ve got the wrong people, please . . .’

Sergeant Proctor held her while she cried and, as he would say later back at the station, never had he heard crying like it. She had sounded like a wounded animal. It was only when the doctor finally arrived and sedated her that her raving abated and she dropped into a deep, troubled sleep.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four

‘It’s like I’m cursed, Granddad. The first night they stay with me, and my little boy gets burned to death. My mum was right, I should never have been allowed to have them on my own – look what happened. Cherie had been on at me about smoking, she said she hated the smell of it. It’s why I came home from your house. Why didn’t I just stay at yours?’

Jack Callahan wished to God that he could ease his granddaughter’s pain, but he knew no one could do that for her. Still, he hoped that what he had to tell her would relieve her of some of her guilt.