‘Yeah? I’m sorry to hear it.’ Josh looked over to the little church. His and Claire’s special place. Shauna and that wicked fucking Cleaver bunch had ruined it now, for both of them. He thought about it. He had to say it now. Claire’s mum and old Nanny had died without knowing, he couldn’t let that happen again. ‘Listen. Trace. I want to tell you something. And I want you to pass it on to Pally. Gently, mind. Careful how you tell him.’

‘What is it?’ Trace was frowning.

‘Claire’s alive. She’s well. I’ve seen her.’ Josh thought then of his promise to Claire. But for fuck’s sake! He couldn’t let poor old Pally go on without knowing she was all right. The man had suffered enough.

‘Where?’ asked Trace.

‘I can’t tell you that. But she’s fine. Tell Pally that.’

Trace nodded and her eyes were full of tears. ‘Jesus! Really?’

‘Really. But keep it between the two of you, OK? No one else must ever know. Promise me.’

‘Yeah. OK. I promise.’

110

110

When Josh got home, all hell was breaking loose.

‘Christ, where have you been? It’s Aysha,’ said Shauna, shrugging on her coat in the hall as Josh came through the front door. She looked wild with worry.

‘What’s happened?’

Connor came through from the kitchen. ‘She’s had a fall over at the Minghella place,’ he told his father.

‘Shit. Is the baby all right?’

‘We don’t know. They’ve taken her straight to hospital. Come on, I’ll drive.’

At the hospital, they had to wait an hour and a half until they could speak to a doctor. They sat in a grey-painted waiting room in grim silence, while a TV warbled away in a corner and a scrawny mother with a fretful yelling five-year-old sat opposite.

‘Jesus, this is fucking terrible,’ wailed Shauna. ‘Shouldn’t Joey be here? Or that useless bastard, his dad?’

The scrawny mother shot Shauna a look. ‘Can you not talk like that in front of my child?’

‘Shut your cunting face,’ advised Shauna. ‘Or I’ll rip your fucking tits off.’

‘Mr Minghella?’ asked a white-coated blonde woman of middle years, appearing in the open doorway.

Thank God for that, thought Josh, standing up, seeing that World War Three was about to break out between Shauna and the woman with the kid. He stared at his wife with contempt. She might style herself as a society hostess these days, but she could still have a wicked tongue on her, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. Claire wouldn’t talk to a dog the way Shauna spoke to some people.

‘I’m Josh Flynn, Aysha’s father. Her husband isn’t here. Is she OK? Can we see her?’

‘Is the baby all right?’ asked Shauna, coming to her feet.