McAvoy stares at her, his palms face down on the table, the lights overhead adding an intensity to his gaze. ‘Would have?’

‘She’ll not get a husband, will she? A man wants his wife, shall we say, untainted …’

McAvoy lets his disgust show. ‘The things that were done to her … what she suffered … people judge her on that?’

She shrugs, implying that the world is nothing if not horribly unfair. ‘Nobody knows where she is, before you ask,’ says Red, directly. ‘Didn’t know she was with that lady in Scunthorpe until we got wind of what had happened. I don’t know if the coppers have put two and two together yet but it won’t be long. Couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Her daddy must have been scared as all hell if he sent her over here in the first place. And now, well … if he gets her …’ She looks away, as if whatever she is imagining is painful.

‘He?’

Red shrugs, trying to make light of it. ‘You know they’re at war again, yeah? Heldens and the Teagues? Fifty odd years of it now and I can’t see it ending. But this time, the Heldens want to put it to bed for good. Only good Teague is a dead Teague, or so they say. Nothing’s out of bounds any more. And after bringing Cromwell in, well, that mess in the flat in Scunthorpe, that’s what you’re going to get.’

‘Slow down,’ says McAvoy, pushing his hand through his wet hair. ‘Cromwell?’

‘Killer,’ says Red, matter-of-factly. ‘Loyal to whoever pays his butcher bill. Papa Helden’s set him loose. That’s why the Teagues are in hiding. They can handle a lot, they’re good brave lads, but Cromwell, if the stories are to be believed – he’s merciless. An artist. Can do things to a body that even the Inquisition didn’t dream up. Doesn’t stop. You kill him, or he kills you. And nobody’s killed him yet. If he came for Roisin and she got away …’

‘And you think he did?’

‘He wouldn’t have gone there for Eva-Jayne,’ says Red with a shrug, flicking a glance at her watch. ‘Roisin’s her daddy’s favourite. He must have thought this was the safest place for her. Nobody would have thought to come to some shitty flat in Scunthorpe to find his princess. My Grieg spoke to the half-brothers and they didn’t even know she was in the area. A bit offended, I reckon, though you can never tell with those weird bastards.’

‘Half-brothers?’

‘Some distant connection to Padraig,’ explains Red, shrugging. ‘They’ll claim that, anyway. They’re not Travellers, but they’re connected. Family, but not blood, if you’ll understand the difference. Bad lads. Wouldn’t let either of them within a mile of my family, but then, I’m not desperate, am I?’ She begins to rise from her chair. She’s given him more than intended.

‘Local to here?’

‘Out Epworth way,’ says Red, grinding out her cigarette in the ashtray. Out of habit, she pockets the butt.