‘That’s exactly what I was just thinking to myself!’ he lied conversationally. ‘It’s fucking handsome all right, Michael. Too much space for me, mate. There’s about twenty acres comes with this lot. I like to be in the Smoke personally. All this country air can’t be good for you!’

Michael laughed. Declan was clearly very drunk. He was a dangerous fucker if you weren’t careful but, if you used your loaf and kept on his good side, he was good company. Michael had learnt the importance of giving certain people their due. That was why he rarely drank more than a few drinks in certain company, and why he made it his business to always say something nice to the people who could influence his career.

He answered craftily, ‘I don’t know about that, Declan, but they do say the country air makes you randy. It’s all those fucking farmers’ daughters – all that space and not enough geezers.’

Declan roared with very loud laughter; he did like a dirty joke.

Unlike his brother, Declan had never married. He enjoyed plenty of female company, but never felt the desire for one woman above all others. He preferred variety. He used the women who came into his life, but he was good to them and, for the few weeks that they caught his attention, he lavished his money and time on them.

‘I never thought of that, young Michael! I better get around the local pubs, have a look at the strange on offer. Now, where is that lovely little girl of yours?’

Michael was pleased at the compliment; she was a real looker was his Josephine. She was a cut above the usual girls and he knew that.

Before he could answer, the door to the office opened wide and Patrick Costello made a grand entrance.

‘Hello, boys, how’d you like my new house then?’ Patrick looked expectantly from Michael Flynn to his brother.

Michael was about to speak when Declan broke in furiously with, ‘You had to do it, didn’t you, Pat, eh? I asked you not to and you still did it.’ Declan suddenly looked fit to be tied.

Patrick Costello didn’t reply.

Michael just stood there, unable to say a word. He didn’t know what it was about anyway. It was the first time he had ever seen Declan so angry, and it seemed that Patrick sensed that as well. This outburst had come out of nowhere.

‘The whole Golding family are dead, burnt to death in their beds. Except for the son – it seems he was staying overnight at his mate’s. Two little girls died though. Twelve and fourteen. How must you feel, Patrick? All that mayhem for five hundred quid.’

Michael Flynn felt physically ill.

‘It wasn’t anything to do with me, Declan. I can only assume the man owed other people money. Let’s face it, he was a fucking ponce.’