‘Tess is in all the newsagents, on the cover of Vogue, no less. The February edition, except it came out in January. She looks gorgeous, sitting in a yellow New York taxi like a film star. If you ask me, she’d look even better with a bit more weight on her, but what do I know? Ginny’s so proud she’s grown six inches.’

The line wobbled.

‘That’s fantastic,’ said Tom.

His dad was still talking: ‘You know what else I meant to tell you? I bumped into Nina after Christmas. I think she was scared of me, so I made a point of marching over and saying hello. She was asking after you. She didn’t look her best, I thought. Then again, who does at this time of year, huh?’

Tom had convinced himself that going away would make it easier to move on from Nina, yet there were days when he was ambushed by longing, when he wondered what she would make of a town or how she’d respond to a conversation. A dull sickness would come over him, and he’d want to crawl away and be on his own. Oh, he knew it made no sense. How, when the whole world was there for him, could he miss the woman who’d treated him so badly? But he did.

‘If you’re talking to Nina again,’ he said, ‘will you tell her I’m flying? Tell her everything’s as great as I’d hoped.’

‘Will do.’

‘Listen, Dad. I’d better go. There are people—’

‘Will you not have a word with your—’

He placed the phone back on the hook. Mohan asked if there was a problem. Tom did his best to smile, though what he forced out was probably closer to a grimace. Leaden-legged, he paid the bill and left.

Outside, he slumped against a wall. Not far away, two women were having an argument. Across the alleyway, a transistor was turned up to full volume. He nodded in time to the music’s insistent beat. A man selling a rainbow of cloth raised an impressive eyebrow. Tom pretended not to notice.

He reflected on what his father had said and began to doubt himself. Was it the dry heat? The white light of the desert? The sounds and smells? He tried to picture what had happened ten years ago, on a night when the snowflakes had fallen large as petals. A night when he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to see. How many times over the years had the image invaded his head? Unbidden. Unwanted. Now his memories felt warped. Flimsy. As ephemeral as snow. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against them. The music thumped through his brain. A child laughed.

The night might never have happened.

Part Two

Twenty-four years later

Chapter 23

Dublin, March 2016