‘It’s got to be something you ate, Michael.’

Josephine was genuinely concerned, and Michael hated that he had to lie to her. But ever since he had agreed to take out Terry Gold, he had been throwing up.

‘Yeah, you’re probably right, love.’

Josephine placed a cold flannel on his forehead. It felt good, there was no doubt about that.

‘I’ll get you a cup of weak tea. You lie back and rest.’

He nodded, but as he looked around her bedroom, he fought down the urge to vomit all over again. It was such a girly room with its pink paintwork and flowery wallpaper. Her kidney-shaped dressing table was painted white, and she had made pink satin curtains for it which hung in regimented pleats around the outside.

She had actually done a really good job, but he hated it and the frills and the frippery that she lived with. She loved clutter – that was just one of her little foibles. He wasn’t used to it. His mother was not a feminine woman in that respect – his home had always been clean, unadorned and, in some ways, quite masculine. It had never occurred to him before but, whereas Josephine and her mum could spend hours deciding on a colour scheme or choosing a particular material, his mother had never really bothered herself with anything like that. He thought it might be something to do with the lean years they’d endured when Des was put away. They’d had so little for so long now they seemed never happier than when they were buying new bits and pieces. But it was all a bit much for him.

As much as he hated Josephine’s bedroom in its girly glory, another part of him loved that she cared so deeply about such things. Her femininity was something that she gloried in and was one of the things that had attracted him to her. Josephine was a man’s woman. A natural carer, she wanted nothing more from her life than to be his wife, rear his children, and look after the home he would provide for them.

He closed his eyes tightly, determined not to think about Patrick Costello’s request. It was one thing to kill without realising it – another entirely when you knew what you were doing.

He heard Josephine come back into the bedroom. Opening his eyes he looked into her beautiful face, and he knew then and there that if he wanted to provide any kind of a decent life for her and his children, he had to man up and follow the path he had been offered. The path he had chosen.

‘Go and see the priest, Josephine, set a date for the wedding.’