Four unconnected events took place on the morning of September 21, which fell that year on a Friday. The people involved in each incident were not known to one another at the time, despite the fact that they all lived within an easy walk of Carrickbawn’s modest but beautifully designed public park. All four, however, were destined to meet very soon afterwards.

The first incident took place as Audrey Matthews made her way on foot to Carrickbawn Secondary School, having left her house at approximately twenty to nine. Audrey didn’t normally walk to work, but her usual mode of transport being in the motorcycle repair shop, and her route not coinciding with a bus one, she found herself left with little choice.

No matter: The morning was fine and Audrey strolled along quite contentedly, humming a tune she’d heard on the radio halfway through her second bowl of Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes. With each step she took, the green canvas bag that was slung across her body bumped gently against her well-padded hip, and as she walked she glanced now and again into the windows of the various shops that lined her route.

And entirely without warning, halfway along a short pedestrianized lane connecting Carrickbawn’s two main thoroughfares—​a lane she rarely had occasion to visit—thirty-seven-year-old Audrey Matthews saw something that caused her to fall abruptly and profoundly in love. Her heart stopped; everything stopped for a delicious handful of seconds. And when it could move again her pink, lip-glossed mouth formed a soft O of complete adoration.

She approached the shop window and pressed her palms and nose to the cold glass, and her wide, wide smile caused the tiny ragged tail of the tousle-haired brown-and-black pup in the pet carrier inside to wag vigorously as it scrabbled against the grille at the front of the carrier and yapped soundlessly at her.

The second event occurred an hour or so afterwards, in the driveway of Irene and Martin Dillon’s redbrick detached home. In her haste to get to an almost-forgotten dental appointment, forty-two-year-old Irene swung her Peugeot out too quickly and clipped the passenger wing against the gatepost, causing a small but definite dent in the metal, and leaving flakes of dark green paint embedded in the nubby concrete of the post.

Feeling the scrape of the contact, Irene swore loudly but didn’t stop to inspect the damage, deciding instead to make straight for the dental clinic and deal with the car later. She sped angrily down the peaceful residential street, causing her second next-door elderly neighbor to lower his pruning shears and tut in disapproval before resuming his attack on the overgrown rosebushes that flanked his sitting room bay window.

The third happening took place around eleven o’clock, as Polish immigrant Zarek Olszewski, twenty-five, walked slowly from a newsagent’s, blond head bent as he scratched carefully with the edge of a five-cent coin at a silver panel on the little card that nestled in his palm. As each sum of money was revealed—for of course the card was a lottery one—Zarek blew the silver scrapings away.

When there was nothing more to scratch he examined the card for several seconds, running a hand through his hair twice as he did so. Finally he stopped, a delighted grin spreading across his face, and turned and retraced his steps to the newsagent’s.

The last incident took place just before morning became afternoon, as Jackie Moore, twenty-four-year-old single mother, stood in a queue in an art supply store, holding two paintbrushes and willing the customer ahead of her to hurry up and decide if he wanted an A4 or an A5 watercolor pad.

As she waited, conscious of the precious minutes of her lunch hour ticking by, her attention was caught by a small notice pinned to the shelf on her right. She read the short message twice, her face expressionless, as the other customer finally made his choice and moved off.

After paying for the paintbrushes, she returned to the notice and skimmed it again before rummaging in her bag and pulling out a pen. She scribbled a number onto the palm of her hand before hurrying from the shop.

Four separate events, four different settings, four strangers. But for all that, the consequences of these happenings would be significant, and more lives than theirs would be affected within a handful of weeks.