“Don’t give me that. There’s no way you and me are gonnae be pals, so gonnae no’ play at it, eh? Now, what’s the meaning of this?” He waved the note in Lindsay’s face, so close she had to lean back to avoid it hitting her eyes.

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Lindsay said. “Even to a printer,” she added, deciding that in his state of agitation it was easier to wind him up further rather than try to calm him down.

“I’ve had you smartarse hacks up to here,” he growled. “Oh, youse were all our best pals when you were trying to get my union into bed with yours. Turns out all you wanted was the dowry. Union Jack and his pals thought they could muscle in on AMWU and run everything their way.”

“It seems to have been what the rank and file wanted. After all, they voted Union Jack in.”

“What the rank and file seemed to forget was that it was their way that had landed the JU in the cart in the first place,” Andy said. “And it had to be stopped before AMWU ended up as bankrupt as those clowns made the JU.”

“I wouldn’t go around shouting my mouth off like that if I was in your shoes, Andy,” Lindsay said. “There’s some who would think that would do as a murder motive for a man like you, a man married to the union in the absence of a wife.”

Andy looked disgusted. “You make me sick, so you do. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

“Jed’s scared,” Lindsay called after him. “Scared people do very stupid things, Andy.”

He turned back to look her in the eye. “Any more out of you, lady, and you’ll be finding that out from bitter personal experience.”

In that brief moment, transfixed by his cold gaze like a butterfly on a pin, Lindsay understood why the print union had won so many seemingly impossible victories over their years of confrontation.

Sophie stepped forward from the shadows and touched Andy’s arm. “It might not look like it, Andy, but she is trying to help.”

He looked searchingly at Sophie, as if trying to find the weakest point at which to target his next attack. “And who the hell might you be?” he challenged.

“My name is Sophie Hartley. I’m an obstetrician and gynecologist. And before you ask, it’s got fuck all to do with me, except that I’m with her and when you kick her, we both limp. Which rather seems to be the case with you and Jed.”

“What’s with this Jed stuff ? You talking about that heid-the-ba’ that got up to bury Tom Jack? What’s that got to do with me?”