‘As a matter of fact, I do. It was Peggy McGoldrick.’

‘Oh.’ A vague memory of the late Mrs McGoldrick fluttered into Conor’s head. He recalled a tight white perm, a black headscarf and a shuffling walk. He tried to suppress his disappointment.

‘That’s right,’ said his dad. ‘Peggy, a woman so old Haulie Crossan used to claim she could remember the Famine. She had chronic arthritis, she wasn’t at the party, and she died twenty years ago.’

‘At the risk of stating the obvious,’ said Ginny, ‘I can’t really picture poor Peggy having a mad, passionate affair with Father Galvin.’

Conor shifted in his chair. ‘Was there anyone else? Anyone who might have deputised? Say she went on holidays, who did the flowers then?’

‘Holidays?’ said his father, his voice hitting the ceiling. ‘The likes of Peggy McGoldrick wouldn’t have known what a holiday was. If she got a day trip to Knock, it was the highlight of her year.’

He was right. Save for the wealthy few, proper holidays were almost unheard of until the 1990s. A weekend staying with cousins was as much as most people had hoped for.

‘Did Peggy always do the flowers?’ asked Ginny. ‘What about weddings? Or christenings? Even in those days some folks liked to decorate the church for their big day. They might have wanted something more elaborate than Peggy would provide.’

‘There’s a question,’ said Flan. ‘I’m nearly sure the florist in Templemorris did the odd wedding and then …’ He stopped. ‘There was someone else. Helen. Helen Minogue did wedding arrangements.’ His gaze shifted between Conor and Ginny. ‘Don’t go jumping to conclusions now. Please.’

‘I won’t,’ said Conor. That was a lie. Already his mind was leaping, his heartbeat accelerating.

‘Even if Helen did have some sort of relationship with Leo Galvin, that’s no reason to get ahead of yourself and assume it led to his death.’

‘Of course not.’ Another lie.

‘Helen always kept a beautiful garden,’ said his dad. ‘She still does.’

Conor nodded. ‘Hannah Galvin mentioned something else. She said that in the autumn of ’eighty-one, the woman’s circumstances seemed to change. After that, Leo was able to see her slightly more often.’

‘And?’

‘We started secondary school in the autumn of ’eighty-one. Nina went to boarding school. As I remember it, she hardly ever came home.’

‘Hugh was at home, though. And Emmet didn’t go anywhere.’

‘But Emmet was very busy. In those days, doctors still did lots of house calls. He was here, there and everywhere. And Hugh was only a little boy. It would have been easy to pull the wool over his eyes. Nina would have been more likely to notice anything unusual.’

‘I suppose.’