He leaned back against the pillow. ‘I suppose we thought hiding in plain sight might be better. Also, I’d transferred so was already pretty visible, and it just seemed OK for her to be the same.’ He shifted awkwardly, wincing at the movement. ‘And after a few years she became the Eve you knew. She wasn’t Mary any more; she was following her own map, not being directed according to ones other people had drawn for her. I think for a while we forgot Mary ever even existed.’

‘She did though.’

He closed his eyes again. ‘I know. I didn’t face it for a long time, but gradually Mary came back.’

‘When did you start to notice the lines becoming blurred?’

‘It happened gradually. About ten years ago I started to notice she would become confused; she’d be convinced Mary was coming back, as if she’d forgotten she was Mary.’

‘Ten years, Gerry. That’s a long time to deal with shit like that.’

‘I love her,’ he said simply. ‘I love going to the cinema with her, walking across Port Meadow and picking up a pub lunch the other side. I even enjoy bickering with her just because we enjoy the banter. The best thing that ever happened to me was finding her.’

They sat for a while, holding hands, and Carla thought of Connor and Alf Waites. She wondered if the latter regretted not taking Mary down with him, and she supposed that had been another stress always hanging over her – wondering if one day he would.

‘Did Mary kill Connor because she couldn’t kill Alf?’

Gerry looked up, surprised, and she worried she’d woken him.

‘I gave up long ago trying to work out what drove Mary. But when Joanne found us it was like a trigger and everything just spiralled downwards. I think seeing Connor there with Kelly-Anne just brought out memories of Alf and what he’d done to her. She wanted to punish Kelly-Anne for her role in Georgie’s death while punishing Connor for his actions that killed their baby. But really she was punishing her fifteen-year-old self.’

‘I’m not sure Kelly-Anne is going to see it that way. The poor woman has been accused of murder.’

Gerry was pale. He reached for a glass of water, hand shaking. Carla leaned over and steadied it.

‘She tried.’ His free hand gripped her arm. ‘She wrote the letters to unmask herself and I gave them to you in the hope it would. She couldn’t just admit her past, so she was looking for someone to do it for her. I begged her to get help when I realised she believed she was speaking to Aoife, but she always refused. The letters were our last hope.’

Carla took her hand away. ‘You should have told someone, Gerry.’

‘I know. And I’m sorry.’

Sorry wouldn’t bring Joanne back.