‘How?’ Laurel couldn’t help asking, intrigued. She’d known Grady’s father had been a grim-faced man. The family had lived in one of the older cottages on the edge of the village, marooned in its own plot beyond the ford, and she’d never minded that Grady had come to her house rather than her going to his. She’d presumed Mr Cassidy senior hadn’t welcomed his sons’ friends.

He shifted restlessly, screwing up his face as if his thoughts were uncomfortable. ‘Dad was what’s politely termed “traditional” or “patriarchal”. Mum was lovely but she let him get away with laying down the law. He made his eldest son his focus.’ His smile flashed. ‘Dad’s name was Cormac. “Mac” actually translates in Gaelic as “son” – did you know that? Mac’s full name is Macormac Cassidy, or “son of Cormac Cassidy”.’

‘I know vaguely about the “mac” prefix on names like MacDougal but I never gave any thought to your brother’s full name.’

He laughed shortly then dropped his voice. ‘I often wonder how Dad would have coped with my infertility. It’s almost a relief that he’s not around to know.’ His mouth twisted.

Laurel watched the play of emotions across Grady’s face, feeling his pain and sense of failure, and saw the exact moment he pushed those unpalatable thoughts away and pulled on his usual expression of friendly calm.

‘So, anyway,’ he went on. ‘Dad exerted control over Number One Son. Mac had to battle not to have his life mapped out for him, from the subjects he took at school to which sports he played. Which sports he watched even. We’d be up in our room, playing on Sega, and Dad would drag him downstairs to watch Ireland play rugby on TV.’

Laurel cast her mind back. She hadn’t seen much of Mr Cassidy, let alone the way he treated Mac. It was a novel idea that being ‘Number One Son’ might be a negative experience. ‘And your dad was different with you?’ she clarified.

Grady blew out his lips. ‘Completely. Less was expected of Number Two Son. Sometimes it stung but mainly I was glad I didn’t have to resist Dad’s grooming, like Mac.’

She sat silently digesting this. ‘So you’re saying that’s what made Mac abrasive?’

He hesitated. ‘I’m saying it made him constantly on edge and expecting a fight. He’s grown up into a nicer person. Don’t you think?’

Laurel didn’t want to think that. She ran through her encounters with him since she’d been back. Pantsed on a cold dark evening at the side of the road. Letting Rea, Daisy and Laurel know he’d talked to the police but wasn’t out for the blood of the perpetrators. Dealing gravely with her and Daisy at school on Monday. Courteous throughout …