Her mother’s face was jaded, washed out. Every one of her seventy-four years was visible. ‘How would I have explained what had happened? What would I have said about the shattered glass? Once I’d taken those initial steps back to the front room, once I’d left Leo behind me, I couldn’t go back.’

‘Yes, you could. You could have found an excuse.’

‘No! That’s not true.’ Her mother’s voice wobbled. ‘But don’t think it hasn’t eaten away at me. I’ve spent every day since thinking, What if, what if. My mind goes back and, I swear to you, the scene is so real it seems like it was only last week.’

Although Nina had already known much of the story, hearing her mother’s words made it different. Something shifted within her. Fleetingly, she thought about what would have happened if Tom had come forward at the time. Their lives would have been very different. Hugh had been a small child. His mother would have been taken away. Something else struck her: how few female killers there were. Most were notorious, their faces and nicknames known in every house, their crimes the subject of best-selling books and lurid documentaries. She couldn’t picture her mother as part of that grisly gallery.

‘What about the days after the party?’ she asked. ‘There was chaos in the village. Everyone was pointing the finger at everyone else. Knowing what you’d done, how did you keep quiet? How did you go to the funeral and shake hands with his family? It’s not … normal.’

Her mother blinked several times, as though resurfacing after a long time under water. ‘In my head, I went to another place. I won’t say I bargained with God. That would be wrong. I bargained with the world. I said, “Let me get over this and I’ll be the best wife and mother ever. I’ll stay here and never step out of line again.” I saw staying with your father, doing everything he wanted, as a sort of penance.’

‘Oh, listen to yourself, would you?’ said Nina. ‘You make it sound like you were a child trying to slither away from a minor offence, like you’d stolen fifty pence from the Mass collection or something. That you hadn’t meant to hurt Father Galvin is neither here nor there. You attacked him – and you killed him.’