‘I’ll have to give a statement,’ said her mam, ‘either to Flan Varley or to another chap. We all will.’

‘The place is crawling with guards,’ chipped in Mags. ‘And no doubt there’d be even more if it wasn’t for the snow.’

‘To be fair,’ said Mercedes, ‘it is a big deal. I mean, people don’t kill priests. It just doesn’t happen.’

‘There are lots of things happening now that never happened before.’

‘I’m off out,’ said Tess, rising from the table.

Her mother pulled a cigarette from the box. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’ve people to see.’

Usually, Tess bombed around the village on her bicycle, but the snow made this impossible. There was another snag: her legs had grown too long for her bike. She hoped she’d stop growing soon. Not that she wanted to be a midget, but she didn’t like being a freak either. Normal would be good.

Although the snow was no longer falling, the sky suggested it would start again soon. The streets were quiet, a special sort of quiet as if everybody had been warned to stay indoors. Perhaps they had. Perhaps she was the only person who hadn’t been given the message.

A meaty-looking guard, his face blotchy from the cold, was standing at the gate to Tom’s house. For a moment, they stared at each other.

‘What is it you want?’ he said eventually.

‘Is Tom about?’

On the other side of the gate, Tess could see more policemen. One was wearing a white suit, like a gangly snowman. In front of the house, there were two squad cars.

‘You’ll get nobody here today,’ replied the guard. ‘Why don’t you run along before you get in the way?’

Tess was tempted to point out that running was almost impossible in the snow but thought better of it. ‘Do you know where Tom is?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge his whereabouts.’

She considered his words. Sometimes when an adult used a funny word Tess went to the school library and took down the dictionary. She’d looked up paranoid, inebriated, heterosexual and repressed. With the policeman, it wasn’t that she didn’t understand his words, more that they sounded silly, like he didn’t want her to understand.

‘Tom’s not in the station, is he?’ she asked. ‘With Sergeant Varley and all the others?’

‘No, but you’ll be in trouble yourself if you don’t get moving.’

Even though Tess didn’t think this was likely, she decided not to take the risk. She crunched on towards Conor’s house. The Varleys lived in Kennedy Crescent, in a bungalow with a teak door and white blinds. She was trying to figure out what she’d say if somebody other than Conor answered that door, when she heard a shout.

It was Tom and Conor, dragging their empty fertiliser bag behind them.