“You don’t have to feel a single fucking thing about it.” His eyes flashed, his teeth bared. “You didn’t know them. They weren’t your family. What difference does it make to you how they died, what room it was in? It’s gone, it’s in the past.”

“Mary isn’t,” Sara said, already fearing his response. “They were her family. She thinks this is still her home.”

Damien came so close she had to lean back. His words dotted her face with spittle.

“It’s not. It’s ours. Do you even know how lucky we are? Are you such a spoilt wee princess that you can’t see how good we have it? This house, all this land, and no mortgage, no debt hanging over us? My father found this place for us, did all the dealing, did all the work renovating it. And you’re pissing and moaning about something that happened more than thirty years before you were born.”

“It matters,” she said. “I don’t care how long ago they died. It still matters. We don’t belong here. It’s not our—”

“Shut up!”

His voice boomed in her ears, between the walls, through the house. She took an involuntary step back.

“Shut your mouth,” he said, his voice retreating low into his throat. “Everything my father did for us, everything he did for you, even after you took those pills, and you throw it in my face. What an ungrateful wee bitch you are.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said.

“I’ll call you what I want. I’ll call you what you are. And you listen to me, if I think you’re going bad again, I will have you committed. Don’t you think I won’t.”

The threat stung. She remembered the three days she’d spent in an Early Intervention Unit, a separate building on the hospital grounds, with the alcoholics and the drug addicts, all the people who could no longer function. For three days, she was one of them, one of the wasted people, and the idea of going back scared her more than anything she could imagine.

But she would not be cowed.

“What did he find here?” she asked.

The words seemed to hit Damien like a punch to the belly, took his balance so he rocked back on his heels.

“What?” he asked.

“When they were working on the extension,” she said, “they found something. Under the concrete floor of the old stable block. They called Francie in. What did he find there?”

Damien placed both his hands on the worktop, shook his head like she made no sense at all.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“What did they find?” she asked, moving closer, even if it put her within his reach. “They called your father, closed the site down. It must have been something. What did they find?”