The other option was to go to the guards in Templemorris and present them with what he knew. They could then pass the information on to the Serious Cases Review Team. While, strictly speaking, this would be the correct course of action, it might cause unnecessary trouble for his father. Why make it official, unless he had to?

Of course he could walk away. This had all become so fractious, so personal, that turning his back might be the best thing to do. But Hannah Galvin had come forward because she trusted him. He pictured her, so small and slight she looked as if a sudden gust could lift her up and deposit her down the street. She’d made a hard decision. She deserved his best effort.

Round and round the questions went, crowding out all other thought.

Outside, the light was dimming.

Conor attempted to strip away the nonsense. He reminded himself that what he wanted was the truth, simple as that. Oh, who was he fooling? There was nothing simple about getting to the truth. There never had been. But all he could do was ask.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘if I’m going to have another chat with Tom, I’d better do it soon.’

Chapter 42

It had been a long day, far too long for someone whose head felt as if it was filled with porridge. Never had Tom been so glad to return to his Donnybrook apartment. He removed his shoes, loosened his tie and put on the kettle. His throat was flannel-dry, and he needed tea. A sturdy brew with plenty of milk, the type of tea he’d grown up with.

An early cabinet meeting meant he’d left home before six. The session had throbbed with a last-day-of-school air. Colleagues had swapped pointed jibes, and there’d been more than one bout of overenthusiastic laughter. They all knew that change was on the way. The question was: how soon? A reporter had called Tom, claiming the dogs in the street knew the reshuffle would happen the next day. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’ said Tom. ‘There aren’t any dogs on the street these days. They’re all on leads and in kennels.’ An hour later, the confirmation came. The taoiseach’s private secretary asked if Tom could meet the boss at nine in the morning. An outsider might imagine that running the country would sate any man’s desire for power, but the boss liked to control everything. If he could keep his ministers – and ambitious back-benchers – guessing for another few hours, he would.