Jessie watched her dad as he left the room. A part of her wanted to call him back, wanted to tell him that she knew what he had done to that man, and she still loved him. But another part of her was reeling from what she had seen him do. At least her mum had tried to be honest with her. Her lovely mum, who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, who everyone thought was as soft as soap, but who was far stronger than anyone would have believed. Her whole world had been stripped bare, and she had been left with nothing. Her life had been a sham, built on nothing more substantial than lies and deceit.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Chapter Eighty-Six

Josephine was sitting at the kitchen table, a large glass of white wine in her hand and a cigarette between her lips, when Michael finally joined her.

She could see from his expression that his visit with his daughter had not gone well. She should have warned him, but she had not wanted to cloud his thinking. She could see Jessie had been seriously affected by the events of the previous night.

Michael sat down wearily, and she poured him a glass of wine. ‘I made you a few sandwiches, Michael. I can cook you something if you want? A bit of egg and bacon?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘These are fine, mate.’

He grabbed a cheese and pickle sandwich and bit into it eagerly. He was hungrier than he had realised. He took a large sip of his wine, and savoured the crispness of it.

‘It’s still early days, Michael. She’ll come round.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘I hate that she had to go through that. I hate that you did! For fuck’s sake, Josephine, those fuckers got right the way to our door. I will never forget it.’

Josephine smiled weakly at her husband. She hated to see him like this. She always made sure that she never let him see her own fears. She was still shaking inside but she could never let him know that. It had taken everything she had to face those men and defend her home.

‘I just want to forget it, Michael.’

‘I should be in the West End now. Salvatore wants to be wined and dined every night. I’ve had to send young Alex Martin in my place. He’s going to take him clubbing. He’s a good lad. He’ll keep him out till the morning, and give me a bit of breathing space.’

‘Did Cecil tell you how they knew about the Colombians?’

‘Did he fuck! He was clueless. Jack was the brains of that outfit, and that’s a contradiction in terms, I can tell you. That Cecil was as thick as shit. I have never in my life met someone as dense as him. He made Trigger look like a fucking applicant for Mensa.’