Josephine placed the glass on the floor carefully. Then, sitting down on the bed, she looked at her lovely daughter for long moments before saying angrily, ‘No, Jessie. You won’t really feel better, darling. I know that, and you know that. Last night was a fucking nightmare, darling, and I would give anything to change it. But I can’t. We can’t phone the police like normal people. We can’t talk about it to anyone ever. We have to make sure that no one knows what happened. It’s not ideal, but it’s how things are for people like us. I’m telling you, from personal experience, Jessie, you just have to find a way to deal with it.’

Jessie knew that her mum didn’t realise she had seen as much as she had. Her mother really did believe that she had locked herself in her bedroom, and that was something Jessie needed her to believe. Her mother could never know what she had actually witnessed, and neither could her father. She actually didn’t want them to know. The less they thought she knew about it, the better for all concerned.

Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter Eighty-Four

Michael Flynn was bone weary. He looked tired and gaunt, he needed a shave and a shower – his usual good looks had deserted him.

Declan Costello stood quietly before him, a broken and shamed man. He was also in need of a bath and a shave; his clothes, like Michael’s, were soiled and wrinkled.

Declan opened his arms wide in a gesture of supplication, as he said sorrowfully, ‘What the fuck can I say, Michael? I naused it up from the start. I don’t know what I was thinking. The Barkers were trying to do me a favour. If I’d had any fucking sense, I should have told them to deal with it. Instead, I honestly thought you would want to sort it yourself.’

Michael was so angry at Declan’s explanation that he was frightened to say anything to him until he had harnessed his anger.

Declan could see that Michael was fighting to control himself. ‘I’ll get us both a drink, Michael.’ Once behind the bar, he poured them both large whiskies.

Michael was trying to control his breathing. He had every right to be angry, and every right to exact any revenge he felt was warranted. But he knew that Declan didn’t feel any malice towards him, and that he had not expected the Cornel brothers to be such a slippery pair of bastards. Declan Costello had been guilty of nothing more than sheer stupidity and laziness.