After the burial, Flash Andy’s mother, Carole Northwood, a well-known personality in the old neighbourhood, and still, despite her sixty-five years, beautiful in a black silk Versace dress, led the party back around the cemetery to the official reception, which was to be held inside a vast pavilion set out in the beer garden at the rear of Paddy O’Byrne’s Bar.

This part of the long goodbye was to be joyful, in honour of Northwood’s favourite film, Live and Let Die, the perambulating horde entertained all the way by a jazz band playing from the back of a slow-moving lorry, Carole Northwood encouraging everyone to sing and dance en route. For once, the late-October weather facilitated this. The air was fresh and cool, but the day settled quickly into a golden haze of mellow sunlight, which brought out the full greenness of the verge-side grass, and the deep red of the crinkly leaves strewing the gutters. More lively entertainment was planned for O’Byrne’s, though almost inevitably by this time, that first flush of brave-faced defiance was waning as reality kicked back in. Carole and her late son’s two sisters, Sheena and Charmaine, as equally gorgeous in sultry black as their mother, greeted everyone on entry, sniffling into black-lace handkerchiefs as each heartfelt embrace brought a new and effusive rush of tears.

However, when Bill Pentecost strolled into the tent, hands clasped behind his back, with the usual clutch of minders at his rear, Carole Northwood made an especially brave effort to get herself together, hurriedly lifting her veil.

He graciously lowered his head, so that she could peck him on the cheek.

‘Thanks so much for coming, Bill. Andy would’ve appreciated it.’

‘I’m only sorry it’s in these circumstances,’ Pentecost replied in his slow, emotion-free voice.

‘What can I say?’ She dabbed at her eyes, fighting off more tears. ‘He would never listen to me. I can’t say I always approved of the things he did, but he was my boy … my only son. I ask you, Bill … who would have the gall? Who would dare?’

‘We’ll have to find that out, won’t we, my love?’

‘I mean I’ve spoken to the coppers a couple of times. They’ve put that bloody Robbery Squad on the job. But I don’t know how seriously they’ll take it. Set of bastards. I got the feeling they were laughing behind their hands at me.’

‘The coppers may come up with something,’ Pentecost replied, managing to say this as if he actually believed it. ‘You never know.’

‘I’m gonna keep on at them, Bill. I’m gonna keep haranguing them. I’ll not let this go.’

‘Nor should you. Like you say, Carole … he was your only son.’