Frequently, Tom forgot that he was considerably older than Vanessa. She was, after all, the more driven, responsible spouse. Then up something would pop, and he’d be reminded of their age gap. The most striking example of this was Tess. Vanessa had been a teenager when Tess’s career had been at its peak, and it was no exaggeration to say that she idolised Kilmitten’s first and only supermodel. Tom remembered how on their first proper date, she’d peppered him with questions about his friend. He’d told the story about the night of Father Galvin’s death (omitting one crucial detail, of course). Vanessa’s first response had been to ask if Tess had been as beautiful back then.

After a few words with his wife (‘Yes, Conor will live. No, Tess isn’t here yet’) and a quick goodnight to the sleepy-sounding boys, he checked the main news sites to see if he’d been mentioned. Every public figure did it. If they claimed otherwise, they were lying. Or stupid.

The video clip from outside the hospital was everywhere. He was disappointed by how drained he looked. There was much speculation about what would happen next in the feud between the McPartlands and Burkes. Capital Braces For Bloody Revenge read one headline. Streets of Fear roared another. As anticipated, the journalists were fascinated by the fact that the injured guard was the stepbrother of Tess Fortune. Tess, one of the world’s top models until her abrupt retirement, is understood to be very close to the stricken cop, said one story. A second reminded readers that she was now married to the millionaire investor Miles Whittingdale, and was rarely seen in public. This image of Tess as a recluse didn’t match Tom’s perception of his friend. But, as he was well aware, image and reality didn’t always coincide.

He was fitting his phone back into his pocket when it began to ring. At first he was surprised by the name. Then he recalled that they’d swapped numbers a few Christmases back.

‘Hello, Nina,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Tom, only I saw on the news that you were at the hospital and I …’ Her voice wavered. ‘Will you tell everyone that I wish Conor all the best? And that I’m thinking of him.’

‘No problem. Fingers crossed, we’ll have some more information soon.’

Tom rubbed his throat. More than twenty years later, how could this be so awkward? Surely there should be a statute of limitations on the impact of old relationships. Yet still they danced around each other, as if their awful break-up, and everything that had followed, had been months rather than decades ago.