‘That’ll warm you back up,’ said Keeva. ‘And besides, the missus has had two of her own, haven’t you, missus?’

Dr Gaskell almost showered Keeva with the whiskey he’d sipped; he bit into the sandwich to prevent himself from laughing out loud as Matron’s cheeks glowed red with indignation.

*

Bee, Bridget and Joe stood around the table in Angela’s cottage staring at the red leather boot with its faux grey leopardskin lining. Pete Shevlin picked it up and looked at the underside. ‘I doubt there’ll be a route map on the sole,’ said Joe. ‘Who lives up here, Bee? The boot hasn’t appeared out of nowhere. Which cottages are empty? We need to start searching them. Pete, have you a gun?’

Pete shook his head but held up his shillelagh. ‘No, but I have my fighting stick. No one will get near me with this, and it can do fierce damage to a man’s legs if need be.’

Joe picked up the stick, which had been made from a knotty length of blackthorn, and looked at it doubtfully. ‘Do they teach you this at school?’ he asked before handing it back. He turned his attention to Bee. ‘Has this happened before, Bee? Only I thought this place was a one-horse town but today it feels more like downtown Chicago. Who lives out here?’

‘Only us, Bob and me, and Mary Kate’s been staying here since she came back. She’s supposed to be living here permanently, but as God is my judge, I can’t see that happening. What used to be the bar and the other fishermen’s cottages are all empty now. There’s my in-laws’ cottage, the nearest to us, close to the cliff, but it’s been empty since they died, more than five years now.’

They all jumped at the sound of a car engine outside. Joe ran to the door and held the gun ready but dropped it when he saw it was Captain Bob.

Captain Bob raced into the cottage, made straight for Bee and hugged her to him. ‘I got someone to stand in for me,’ he said in answer to the question perched on her lips. He’d left for work hours ago.

‘I’ve only just heard myself, from Joe,’ she said.

He could tell she had yet to absorb the full impact of the news and was struggling. He turned and saw that Bridget was sitting by the fire, clearly in a contemplative mood. He didn’t need to ask what she was doing. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out. She was communing and it was not a process he felt inclined to disturb. In Tarabeg, the dead often had more answers than the living.

‘The news is spreading up the coast,’ he said, and, turning to Joe, he added, ‘What can I do? Do we have any ideas?’

Joe held up the boot. ‘Found at the bottom of the cliff.’

Captain Bob took it from Joe’s hand and turned it over. ‘It is hers,’ he said. ‘She was wearing these boots the night she came home. Not the kind of boots you’d be able to buy in Mayo.’