Declan had been so grateful to be given another chance, he had sworn to prove himself worthy of Michael’s kindness. He had never once forgotten his role, and he relished his position, realising how easily it could be taken from him if he ever fucked up again. His laziness, combined with his refusal to think for himself, had nearly cost him not just his livelihood, but also his life. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time.

He took a deep gulp of his beer, enjoying the icy coldness as it slipped down his throat. He was a very happy man, and that was something that he really valued these days. He had lived through the humiliation of Michael’s attack, and that had been very hard for him; without Michael Flynn he was basically worth nothing.

He held up his empty glass to the barmaid, and she took it quickly, filling it up once more for him. The bar was empty; they had just had the whole place decorated, and it was odd to see it so clean-looking. But it still had the old-fashioned vibe to it; the men who frequented this place would not be comfortable otherwise.

He glanced towards the stairs. He had heard the door opening, and he watched Michael Flynn walking down the stairway slowly. He was still a very handsome man. Michael had never put on any weight, he still had a good body on him. He would get better looking as he got older, the jammy fucker; some men were lucky like that.

‘All right, Michael.’ It was a greeting, not a question.

Michael smiled. ‘All right, Declan. You’re looking good, mate.’

Declan grinned with pleasure. ‘I feel fine anyway. That’s the main thing. Drink?’

The barmaid took the order, and Declan was amazed to see Michael Flynn drinking a large whisky so early in the day. ‘Are you all right, Michael?’

Declan’s voice was genuinely worried, and Michael swallowed his drink down in one before answering him. ‘It’s my Jessie. She didn’t turn up for her money. I know it’s silly to worry, but she’s never missed a Thursday before.’

He motioned to the barmaid for another drink, and she took his glass from him without a word. She refilled it and placed it on the bar in front of him. He smiled his thanks, noticing she wasn’t the usual eyeful they employed.

‘I don’t know, Declan. It’s not like her. I’m worried.’

Declan knew how fragile Michael’s situation was regarding his only daughter. He suspected that young Jessie was probably shacked up with some piece of shit lowlife somewhere, but he knew better than to say that. Instead he took a drink of his beer, before saying easily, ‘I’m sure she will turn up. You haven’t got anything to worry about there, mate. She probably had a late night.’