Treasure arrived at exactly ten-thirty and sat down without removing his coat or saying a single word. His face was drawn and there were grey bags under his eyes winged by deep lines as though what little sleep he might have managed had been with his eyes screwed tightly shut to keep the darkness out. Or in. He reached into his pocket, brought out the asthma inhaler and placed it on the gypsy table. His eyes were wary, like those of a wild animal, cornered.

‘Where did you get it?’ he asked. This was a secret that Imelda could no longer keep. She had been the one who had offered to take it off Ruby’s hands, and in any case, Ruby was dead now.

‘From your mother. She found it in the pocket of your shorts after Jimmy Cox died.’

‘What did she tell you?’

‘Not much more than that. She didn’t know why you had it, but she was worried that it could get you into trouble.’

‘Why didn’t she ask me about it?’

Imelda hesitated, trying to find the right words. In truth, Ruby had been worried about what the truth might be. She had simply wanted to protect her little boy. But her silence implied that she had not been wholly sure of her son’s innocence, and that might be hard for Treasure to hear. For Imelda, the truth was less problematic. Jimmy Cox had been an evil and malicious bastard who had got what he deserved. Whether it had been by the hand of God or Treasure made little difference.

‘Ruby wasn’t sure what to do for the best. You were so young, and she was worried about the effect the whole thing might have on you – seeing Jimmy Cox’s body, and watching Star suffer until you could rescue her.’

‘Did she think that I had anything to do with his death?’ Treasure’s voice cracked as he struggled to get the words out. How on earth could Imelda answer that? She couldn’t possibly be sure what Ruby had thought.

‘She knew that you would never lie to her. You told her what had happened, and she believed you. She didn’t need to ask anything else.’

‘So why did you end up with the inhaler?’

‘I offered to take it to stop Ruby worrying about it. That’s all.’

Imelda hoped that Treasure would be satisfied with her carefully edited explanation, but she could tell from the haunted expression on his face that there was more to come.

‘I didn’t tell her everything,’ he said.

1973