‘Let me pour us a drink. I’m so pleased we managed to get past this shit.’ He poured them large brandies, personally serving them, making sure they were comfortable, offering them seats and cigars, treating them with the utmost respect, making them feel valued, acknowledging their status in his world.

‘A toast. To the future.’

They all raised their Waterford crystal glasses, knowing that Michael Flynn had won the day. Everyone would find out that they had folded, that Christie had been forced to overlook his son’s demise, and accept Michael Flynn’s actions without any recourse whatsoever.

‘I never wanted to fight with you, Christie.’

Christie McCarthy took a big gulp of his drink to steady his nerves. ‘I know that, Michael. I know you had no choice. I can see that now.’

Michael was still smiling his big friendly smile, as he said nonchalantly, ‘By the way, Christie, just one last question. I will never mention this again, but it’s important that I know. Which treacherous ponce gave you the code to my fucking gates?’

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Four

Lana was on her third glass of wine. She was what she called ‘merry’ and, as Josephine topped her glass up, she laughed loudly. ‘Oh, thank you, darling! This is just what the doctor ordered!’

Josephine laughed with her. This was the mum she loved, the mum she had grown up with – full of fun and mischief, always up for a good laugh. She had missed this. She hated them being at loggerheads, especially when it was over her Michael.

Lana looked at her daughter with her usual critical eye. For all her traumas, her Josephine was still a lovely-looking girl – well, woman now. She had kept her natural beauty, even after all the miscarriages and the stillbirths. The only real change had been her daughter’s quietness; with every loss she had gradually lost her natural ebullience and her lust for life. Over the last few years she had become like a recluse – she rarely left the house now.

She still shopped twice a week, and that was it. But how she shopped! Talk about bulk buying! Everywhere you looked there were boxes, all piled up on top of one another. She used to keep them out of sight – now the whole place looked like a warehouse. Who the fuck bought twenty-four cans of soup at a time? There was only the two of them. As Des joked, if the bomb dropped, they could live round Josephine’s for a year, and never eat the same meal twice. She had laughed with him, pretending everything was all right, but it worried her, as a mother. She knew that things were not OK with her daughter; her girl wasn’t right in her mind.