‘Do you really think that? I still saw Conor and Tom.’

‘Conor’s part of your family.’

‘Even so, there were times when keeping in touch did take a bit of effort.’

‘I assumed I wasn’t worth the effort.’

‘That sounds awful. It was more complicated than that.’

Tess put down her glass and smoothed her fingers across her forehead. She wouldn’t say the floodgates had opened. Out of deference to her mother, this would be the last time she spoke about it. But she’d told Tom, and Nina deserved to know too.

‘When I wrote to you, I also told you that I’d discovered who my father was.’

‘I remember,’ said Nina. ‘Julian was convinced it was Father Galvin.’

‘If only.’ For the second time in as many days, Tess began her mother’s story.

Chapter 41

‘If you’d known, what would you have done?’

His father had been asking questions for half an hour or more, so many questions voiced in such quick succession that it felt as if they were bouncing off the magnolia walls. This was the first time Conor had lobbed one back.

‘I would have taken the information very seriously. The shame is that Hannah Galvin didn’t come forward at the time.’

‘So,’ said Conor, ‘you agree the affair might have given someone a motive?’

‘I do, but that’s a long way from proving that Father Leo was killed by a jilted husband.’

‘Ah, Dad, give me some credit, would you?’

His father made a harrumphing sound. Ginny sat between them, lips slightly parted, the adjudicator in their tug of wills.

Conor started again. ‘I’d stopped looking at the case. But when I heard Hannah’s story, I had another think. And, yes, I’m well aware that this isn’t easy for either of you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to take it further without your blessing.’

His father’s face was opaque. ‘I won’t deny that it’s interesting. It’s still one woman’s version of what might have happened more than thirty years ago. That’s all you’ve got.’

‘Not quite all.’

‘I don’t follow you.’

Conor told them about Nina’s conviction that Tom was holding something back. Then he gave a judiciously edited version of their meeting.

‘Could you not have left well enough alone?’ said his father. ‘You went barging in on a hunch. Is that how you carry out enquiries, these days?’

Conor was about to give an abrasive response, but stopped himself in time. There had always been a danger that this would turn into a row about who was the better investigator. The trouble was, travelling that route would only deepen their disagreement – and take Conor further away from where he wanted to be. He changed direction. ‘By any chance, do you remember who looked after the church flowers in the early eighties?’