‘Well, you ain’t gonna believe this . . .’

Shaking with rage, Connor paid Mad Dog and then left him outside the flat. He got in the Porsche and drove through the rain to where Mad Dog had said. Then he parked the car, went in through the lych gate and strode over to Josh’s grave. It gave him a chill, coming back here. The AstroTurf covering the newly dug plot was gone and in its place the soil piled up on the grave was a raw dirty orange. All the floral tributes had been removed. No headstone yet, of course. You had to let the ground settle before you did that. Once it did, Dad’s monument would be installed, and it would be as costly, as magnificent, as any of the other gypsy family ones here.

On her knees to one side of the grave was Claire Milo’s daughter, Suki.

Connor paused a few steps away, thinking he was going to kill her, coming here to his father’s last resting place. Shauna had been furious in the solicitor’s, and he felt that same fury now, felt that the woman shouldn’t be here, that he was going to obliterate her and her mother, strike her memory from the world so he could forget all this shit, all this bollocks about his dad being a player. Then maybe he could remember Dad as he should be remembered; as Josh Flynn the devoted Romany family man – and not as a cheating son-of-a-bitch adulterer.

Suki Milo wasn’t wearing the heels today. Same black suit, but no heels. Practical flats.

As he drew nearer he could hear her crying, loudly. Her head was in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking.

Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to give you something to cry about.

Connor moved in. She hadn’t even heard him coming. Didn’t have a clue. He could strike her dead, and she’d never know.

‘What the fuck are you playing at, coming here?’ he said.

Her head whipped round, blonde hair flying limply in the cold breeze. Her hands dropped to her side. Her face was wet, her eyes red. She swallowed hard, then said: ‘I didn’t . . . I mean, I couldn’t . . .’

The fury grabbed Connor, red rage descending. He took her arm roughly, hauled her to her feet. She staggered and gave a cry of pain as his fingers dug into her flesh. Her knees were muddy. Her face was pale and shocked.

‘I said, what the fuck are you doing? You’re not welcome here.’

She was still crying, shedding huge helpless tears.

‘Shut the fuck up with the crying, OK?’ he demanded, shaking her.

‘You don’t understand,’ she managed to choke out. ‘He was almost like a father to me, he really was . . .’