There is a small smattering of porcelain-coloured dust, a few chips. But I’m still sure that someone has done this deliberately. Or am I? I look at Alex and he has a look of sympathy, or pity, or something in his eyes.

‘I’m not making it up,’ I tell him. ‘You think I’m unhinged, don’t you?’ I ask, aware that right at this moment, my hand bleeding, my eyes red with tiredness and tears, I do in fact look unhinged.

‘I think, Heidi, that you’re exhausted and stuck in this strange limbo that would drive anyone to distraction. But accidents do happen.’

I don’t know if there’s any point in arguing back. What would it achieve, after all?

‘Look, maybe you’ll feel better after we get that cleaned and you can have a rest. I’ll go and get the first-aid kit and we’ll get you sorted, then you can grab a few hours’ sleep. I’ll wake you if we get the call about Joe. I’ll see if maybe this doll can be repaired, too,’ he says, gesturing at Scarlett, but I know she’s beyond fixing. No amount of glue and patience in the world will put her back together again.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ciara

Now

I shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee. I’m jittery now and my heart is thumping. I wish I still smoked proper cigarettes, not these pathetic vape devices. I wish I could have a drink right now. God, I wish I could smoke a joint. I wonder if anyone would notice if I rifled through my father’s meds and found something to give me a suitable hit.

I’m not a drug user. Not really. Cannabis doesn’t really count, or the odd discreetly acquired prescription med. And I need something to take the edge off.

The police had walked in and turned everything on its head. ‘We will be here to support you,’ they said before leaving and offering absolutely no support, just the fear that they would find out ‘foul play’ had been involved in my father’s death.

Dr Sweeney had been happy to sign the death certificate. That should’ve been the end of it. He knows what he’s doing, after all. We thought we’d just move on to the wake and the funeral and then with the rest of our lives.

But now everything has changed.

I’d love to just block it all out, but I’m sure it wouldn’t look good if I was stoned out of my head either. I suck on my e-cig, hoping for a hit of something it can’t give me, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m tired. Really tired. Maybe Heidi had the right idea of going for a sleep, but I sense Kathleen is on the point of unravelling and I feel it’s my responsibility, for my sins, to support her. To contain her.

I should probably eat something, I think. I’ve not had anything since last night. I’ve not been hungry, but now my stomach is growling and I realise if I don’t at least try to eat something there’s a good chance I’ll be sick.