Seamus Maguire, Tony thought. Karen’s husband became a fraction more real with his name.

‘What did you tell him about this trip?’ Tony asked, suddenly.

Karen smiled bemusedly at the question, the change in topic.

‘I said I was going to a meeting about buying into a franchise for the business,’ Karen said. She staggered slightly as the boat slowed, having entered the lough that would lead them, eventually to their harbour.

Tony instinctively reached out to steady her and, for a second, she took his hand in hers. Her skin was slightly slick with lotion.

‘He doesn’t know about what happened,’ she explained. ‘It just wasn’t something you could bring up, you know. No one asks you over dinner if you’ve ever killed anyone.’

Tony laughed wryly.

‘It was another world,’ Karen said. ‘And I was a different person, then.’

‘Not so different,’ Tony said. ‘You’ve changed less than I expected.’

A faint flush rose at Karen’s throat and Tony realised he had inadvertently revealed that he’d been thinking of her. She didn’t reciprocate, but asked instead, ‘Did your wife know? About Martin?’

Tony shook his head. ‘No. Sean Mullan called at our door one time electioneering and she commented on him scaring her because he was wearing loafers.’

Karen laughed exaggeratedly.

‘She meant that his ordinariness scared her; the fact he was a murderer who looked just like everyone else. It was hard to tell her after that, so I didn’t.’

‘Did you feel guilty about not telling her?’ Karen asked, holding his gaze.

‘Sometimes,’ Tony admitted. ‘You?’

She nodded. ‘I guess. It makes me wonder what he’s hidden from me, too. And he’s not like that, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think he’s hidden anything,’ she added quickly, as if her comment had been an act of disloyalty. ‘But a bit like your wife said; that someone can look ordinary and have done something terrible.’

Chapter Twenty-One

‘Something terrible is happening to me,’ Alice Hamilton said.

Tony had just come out of the staff room, having been checking for post in the staff pigeonholes when he met Alice running down the corridor. She stopped at the girl’s toilet but it was locked. She gripped her skirt in her fist in front of her groin and, for a moment, Tony assumed she needed to use the toilet. But when he looked again, he realised that tears were streaming down her face.

‘What’s wrong, Alice?’ he asked.

‘Go away, sir,’ she said, almost doubling up where she stood.

‘Alice!’ he said, a little harsher than he intended. ‘What’s wrong?’

She looked at him mournfully and straightened. At first he couldn’t tell what concerned her until she lowered her head and, following her gaze, he saw the blood badging the insides of her legs.

‘Something terrible is happening to me,’ she said.

‘It’s OK, Alice,’ he said, blushing heavily. ‘It’s natural.’

‘I think I must have cut myself, but I don’t know how.’

‘It’s not…’ Tony began, but wasn’t sure how to continue. ‘It’s a thing that happens to girls when they reach a certain age,’ he said. ‘It’s completely normal. Have you a … have you anything with you?’