In three or four steps she crosses the room and snatches it from my hands.

‘He deserves his privacy, you know,’ she says. ‘Even if he’s gone.’

I mutter an apology, feel shame burn at my face.

Ciara walks back to the other side of the room, opens the wardrobe with the smudged mirrors and places the diary high on a shelf. She closes the door with a rattle and turns the bronze key in the lock, which she then puts in the pocket of her dress. The message is loud and clear. I have overstepped the mark.

‘Ciara? Heidi?’ I hear Stella’s voice from downstairs before I have the time to react.

We walk to the landing and look down the stairs.

There are two police officers standing in the hall, looking directly up at us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Heidi

Now

‘Can we help you, Officer?’ Ciara asks.

‘Perhaps if we can have a sit-down we could chat,’ a tall man, his face solemn, says. ‘I’m Detective Inspector David Bradley, and this is my colleague Detective Constable Eve King, from Strand Road police station.’

My heart thumps.

‘Has someone been hurt, Officer?’ Stella asks.

My stomach lurches.

‘This is in relation to Mr McKee,’ he says. ‘And really it might be better if we sit down.’

Ciara leads the way into the living room. The furniture has been pushed against the walls, some dining chairs lined against the window. Space has been cleared by the far wall for a coffin. For his coffin. So that mourners can file in and pay their respects, leave a Mass card, say a prayer, look at his body, embalmed and laid out looking like a waxwork of the man he was.

I perch on one of the dining chairs, leave the soft seats for DI Bradley and DC King. Alex hovers beside me before sitting down. Ciara and Stella hold hands and sit on the sofa.

‘If you could let us know what this is about,’ Ciara speaks, ‘because we’re expecting to hear from the undertakers and we want the house ready for the return of my father’s remains.’

DI Bradley takes a breath and looks at each of us. ‘I’m afraid there will be a further delay to the release of your father’s remains. Following discussions with Mr Steele, the undertaker tasked with making all funeral arrangements, and Dr Sweeney, your family physician, we have decided that in this case there is cause for a postmortem examination to be done.’

My heart races.

‘But why? He was ill. The doctor said it was one of those things. This is ridiculous,’ Ciara says, anger evident in her tone.

DI Bradley pauses for a moment, as if he is checking that Ciara’s rage is spent, then speaks. ‘While preparing your father’s remains, there were some marks to his body that warrant extra investigation. I should stress, at this time, this is a formality. It’s our duty, and the duty of the coroner, to investigate anything that may explain your father’s sudden death.’