“We were worried too,” Margaret said. “The police were out looking for her. I’m sure they would have tried your place before too long, but we didn’t think she could have got that far. It’s what, two, three miles away?”

Sara pictured Mary’s bloody foot.

“She must be exhausted.”

“God love her,” Margaret said. “We’re very fond of Mary here. She gets confused sometimes, but she’s an awful sweet soul. Wee Mary, everyone calls her. It’s a wonder that woman has any sanity left, everything she’s been through.”

“What do you mean?” Sara asked.

“Well, the fire for one, but all that business when she was a child. Such a thing to go through.”

Sara’s throat tightened.

“What business? What happened?”

A pause, then Margaret asked, “You don’t know?”

“No,” Sara said.

“Oh. When I heard someone had taken over the house, I wondered. I thought you would’ve known.”

“Please tell me,” Sara said.

“The killings. It’s more than sixty years ago now, maybe sixty-five, long before my time, but it was a terrible thing. Her just a child and all. I don’t remember how many died, four or five, maybe, the whole family wiped out. A terrible thing. You really didn’t—?”

Damien’s footsteps on the stairs.

Sara hung up, found the call-history list, the care home at the top. She swiped left with her thumb, hit the red delete button, returned to the home screen as Damien entered the room.

He stopped in the doorway. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” she said. “I was just reading the news.”

Damien approached the bed and held out his hand. He didn’t have to ask. Sara gave him the phone. He studied the screen, as he thumbed through menus.

“I thought I heard you talking,” he said.

“Just to myself,” she said.

He stared down at her for a moment before handing back the phone.

“You embarrassed me in front of my father.”

“I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t do it again,” he said. “Time you were dressed, no?”

Sara nodded as she took the phone from him, cradled it in her lap. She held back the tremors until he left the room.

4: Mary

4: Mary

If the weather was good, and if they were in decent form, the Daddies would let us all out into the yard on a Sunday afternoon. Behind the house, with the auld cowshed at the far end, the stone buildings on either side. The lane cut down the back to the fields, with a gate across. I wasn’t allowed over to the gate, none of us were, we had to stay near to the house.