Declan Ó Gríofa, former resident of Inisrún island
Declan: The papers said the Crowley Girls were almost identical but there were differences between them – you just had to be looking close enough to notice. And we were. (pause) Sinéad was the youngest, and she was shorter than her sisters; her hair was curlier too. She was the shy one, we decided, always hiding behind the others, happy enough to go along with whatever they wanted to do. She was easy, I guess you could say. Róisín was the middle sister, and the one who looked most like Nessa. The same height, the same build, but she had a gap between her front two teeth and she was conscious of it, we suspected; she didn’t smile as much as Nessa did, anyway. Róisín was serious – she always had her nose stuck in a schoolbook. Not that it mattered. Even with all that studying, she still didn’t do as well in her exams as Nessa did. None of us did.
Jake: Tell us more about Nessa Crowley. What was she like?
Declan: She was something special. And I’m not just saying that now because she’s dead, like. Even back then, we knew she was different. She was the most beautiful girl on the island, and when you put them together, the Crowley Girls . . . It was like staring straight at an eclipse. They were all any of us could talk about – where we seen them, who they were with, what they were wearing. We seen them in the siopa with their mam, begging her to buy a Viennetta for dessert. There they were at Mass, genuflecting before the altar like butter wouldn’t melt. This one time, Róisín Crowley bent down to pick up her pencil case in class and Mikey Ó Súilleabháin swore he seen her bra, white lace he said it was, with a little pink ribbon in the middle. It’s hard to believe there was a time when that was the biggest news on the island, the colour of Róisín Crowley’s bra, but they had us driven demented, the three of them. (pause) Everything changed after the murder.
Jake: In what way?
Declan: In every way. All the doors were locked for months after, which was unheard of on the island; sure, most of us didn’t even know where our house keys were, half the time. Our parents wouldn’t let us out alone at night any more, especially the girls; we weren’t safe, they said. It was mad. Things like this didn’t happen here, not to people like us.
Jake: Declan, what do you think happened the night of the murder?
Noah: We’ve heard some, eh, let’s just say, interesting alternative theories.
Declan: Let me guess. Nessa had an overdose and the Kinsellas tried to cover it up. Nessa was kicked in the head by a mad cow on a rampage. The party guests were all members of the illuminati and Nessa’s death was a sacrifice to appease their pagan gods. Have I missed anything, lads?
Noah: (laughs) That’s about it, I reckon. Do you think any of them are true?
Declan: Who knows? In my opinion, there are only two people who have any answers to your questions and their names are Henry and Keelin Kinsella. And I don’t think either of them is going to be telling the truth any time soon.