I’ve never been in Marie’s house before, but I can’t imagine, despite what she has said, that I’ll be made to feel welcome there. And up until now I didn’t think it possible that I could feel any less welcome than I already have over the last few days.

Marie lives in a terraced house in Lower Creggan. Her home is clearly her pride and joy, the small front garden beautifully manicured and tended. Flower beds and garden ornaments guide us along the concrete path to her front door, which Alex knocks on while Lily and I shiver behind him.

The door opens and Marie is standing dressed all in black, face solemn. ‘Alex,’ she nods at him before looking at me. ‘Heidi,’ she says, offering me a half-hearted kiss on the cheek. ‘Come in,’ she says as Kathleen calls out, ‘We’re through in the living room.’

We follow her through a small hall into her lounge, where I notice a row of sympathy cards lined up on her mantlepiece, declaring how very sorry people are for her loss. It strikes me as more than a little odd, given how long ago their marriage ended, but I realise that saying anything to that effect wouldn’t be received well. So I keep quiet and let Marie continue acting the part of the grieving ex-wife with aplomb.

‘Here, let me help you with your things,’ Kathleen says, taking the changing bag from me and trying to help me out of my coat, even though I’m more than able to take it off myself.

Marie adds, ‘Ciara has just nipped out to the shop but she’ll be here soon. As will Father Brennan. Joe should be home in about an hour.’

She looks fidgety, on edge. Her nervous energy adds to my own.

‘I’ve cleared the box room upstairs for him,’ she says. ‘Ciara asked that the house be closed, so I figured we wouldn’t need that much room.’

‘Thank you for doing this for him,’ I say, because it feels like the right thing to do.

‘Why wouldn’t I do it? It should be from his own home, but I’ll do my best for him. And I suppose this was his home for a time, and most of that time it was a happy home.’

Her tone is sharp, her comments pointed. I want to turn and leave, but that would only give them something else to think badly of me about.

‘Of course,’ I mumble and turn my attention to my still-sleeping daughter, taking her out of her car seat and slipping her out of her snowsuit.

It feels too warm in Marie’s living room. I can’t have Lily overheating. It’s bad enough that I can feel the first prickles of sweat on the back of my own neck.

The doorbell rings, a sharp, shrill noise that, given that we are all on our nerves at the moment, makes us jump. Marie takes a deep breath as if settling herself and goes to answer the door. I hear her tone, markedly more welcoming than she was with me.