He wrenched at the door handle but it was locked. He pounded on the window and she shrank back as if he was a madman. At that moment, he felt like one. She was here, besmirching his dad’s memory, reminding him that Dad had a secret life, one Connor had until recently had no clue about. Then the other passenger leaned forward, said something to the driver. He floored the accelerator, and the engine roared into life.

The Merc swung out and was gone.

135

135

‘What were you doing, earlier? You were hurrying, what for?’ Shauna asked him when he met up with her a few minutes later.

‘Thought I saw someone I knew. An old mate of mine.’ He couldn’t tell his mother that Dad’s bit of fluff had pitched up here, today of all days.

‘Let’s get back to the house, it’s fucking freezing,’ said Shauna, shivering.

All the mourners were getting into their cars. Shauna got into the limo, and Connor sauntered back to where Benedict was unlocking his BMW, Aysha at his side.

‘It went off OK then,’ said Benedict. ‘Sad day. I’m sorry, mate. It’s awful.’

‘What were you running for?’ Aysha asked Connor. Her face looked bleached white with grief, her eyes dark and intense, just like Mum’s.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Connor, and hoped that she’d forget it, hoped that this was a one-off and that Claire Milo would never dare show her face around his family again.

136

136

‘See this?’ said Connor.

It was days after Dad’s funeral. Connor had thought it all through over yet another long sleepless night. Finally he’d contacted Mad Dog Cunningham, one of his and Benedict’s street boys. Mad Dog was so named because he had bulging Marty Feldman eyes that swivelled wildly in his head like a hound with rabies. Connor had torn his father’s image out of one of the shots the private dick had taken, and given Cunningham what remained of the print. A nice, clear shot of the blonde woman.

‘So who’s the skirt?’ asked Mad Dog.

‘Her name’s Claire Milo. I saw her the other day. Maybe she’s here, in London, maybe at a hotel, or maybe she’s renting somewhere. Put the word out. Find her.’

‘Bit old for you, I’d have thought.’

Connor gave him a look.

‘No offence. Know you got an eye for the blondes. I’ll pass the word along.’

‘Yeah. Good. And less of the fucking lip, OK?’

Connor called in on Mum next day, see how she was doing. Shauna seemed OK. Today, she seemed more angry than grieving.

‘That bastard. I can’t believe he’d do that,’ said Shauna as they sat in the kitchen having coffee. ‘A hole-in-the-corner affair. It’s so bloody sordid.’