Julian steepled his fingers. ‘You must have heard about the rumours elsewhere? The talk there’s been about some priests interfering with children?’

‘I have. I work with children, so I’m extra-conscious of what can happen. But Father Galvin? I’d be stunned.’ Nina stopped to take a drink. The G&T was going straight to her head. It had been too long since she’d had a drink in the afternoon. Too long since she’d been in the Palace. She told herself to focus. ‘You don’t have any particular reason to suspect him, do you?’

‘Not at all. Like I say, though, if it happened elsewhere …’

‘Straight up, I don’t see it. Not Father Galvin. He wasn’t at all creepy. Also, if there’d been even a whisper of him abusing a child, the word would have got around. Somebody would have said something to the guards.’

‘I suppose. Only I can’t help but be suspicious. Killing a priest is very unusual.’

‘You’ll be going on about black Masses and satanic rituals in a minute.’

‘Actually, I did speak to two or three people who thought the whole thing was part of some conspiracy or other.’

‘There are a few grassy-knollers in Kilmitten, but I wouldn’t pay any heed to them. What else have you heard?’

Julian laughed. He had a pleasing, tickly laugh. Oh, and there was a languor about his voice, as though he knew that what he was saying was worth waiting for. ‘I thought I’d be getting information from you,’ he said, ‘but you’re determined to turn the tables.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Nina, raising her palms to the glass ceiling, ‘there has to be a bit of give and take in every relationship.’

‘I get the feeling you won’t be doing an interview. Am I right?’

‘Gosh, Julian, not on camera. I couldn’t. I hope you understand. Between my dad and … Tom and Conor and everybody, it … it wouldn’t—’

‘Hmm. I thought a woman like you would make up her own mind.’

‘I would. Normally, I would, but—’

He touched her wrist. ‘It’s all right, Nina. I’m well aware how difficult it would be for you. Truth to tell, I didn’t come here to twist your arm. I wanted to see you again. And if, by any chance, you come up with anything, any snippet of information that might help the programme, that would be brilliant.’

A tingling sensation rose from Nina’s neck. It was, she assured herself, the alcohol at work. Nothing more. She hoped he didn’t think her a fool, a compliant woman who meekly did what her father and her boyfriend asked. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

Julian slapped his knees. ‘Time for another drink.’

‘I’m not sure …’ she started, but he was already halfway to the bar.