Conor outlined what Hannah had told him. He’d thought he was well prepared, but Ginny was a step ahead, reading his words in a way he hadn’t intended. Her expression hardened, and the network of fine lines around her eyes deepened.

‘Hang on a minute,’ she said. ‘You’re not suggesting that I’m the mystery woman, are you? Honest to God, Conor Varley, I can’t believe you’d come into this house and—’

‘Woah,’ he said, ‘relax, Ginny. Of course I’m not – (a) I would never have suspected you of being involved with Father Galvin, (b) even if I had, I wouldn’t bring it up like this, and (c) the mystery woman, as you call her, was married.’

Ginny fidgeted with the hem of her navy sweatshirt. ‘Ah, I see. That’s all right, then. Forgive me, I spent too many years in this village being looked down on and treated like I was the root of all evil. You can’t blame me for being paranoid.’

Not for the first time, Conor marvelled at his stepmother. He remembered how, as a child, he’d considered her very pretty. All the boys had. As they’d grown older, she’d had a starring role in many a teenage fantasy. In more recent years, Conor had seen photographs from her twenties and early thirties. It was no exaggeration to say she’d been every bit as dazzling as her elder daughter. And yet, according to Tess, Ginny had gone through periods of numbing depression. She’d lain in bed, too overcome by sadness to do anything with the day. It was only with hindsight, Tess said, that she appreciated the depths of her mother’s trauma.

He wondered if Ginny had ever had counselling. Probably not. Back in the 1970s, anyone complaining of mental-health problems was in danger of being sent to the county psychiatric hospital where they’d be locked up and sedated. Had she sought help, her daughter might well have been taken away.

Ginny walked over and sat at the other end of the table. ‘So, you reckon this may be important? That an angry husband might have had reason to attack Leo Galvin?’

‘That’s about it, yeah. As you know, I looked through the files. There was never any mention of an affair.’

‘And you’re certain Hannah Galvin’s telling the truth?’

‘Why would she lie? The easiest thing to do would be to keep on saying nothing.’

‘I get why you’d want to discuss this with Flan, but why are you telling me?’

‘At the moment, I’m not entirely sure what to do. Do I continue to pursue the case, or do I hand the information to the guards in Templemorris? One way or another, it might affect you – and Dad.’

‘You mean, if the case is reopened, people will realise that O’Grady wasn’t guilty?’

‘Mmm.’