‘And do you think I am, Lucy? With you and your bloody father pulling me one way and then the other!’ No longer nauseated, she now felt free to be furious. ‘I used to take my clothes off for a living. You know why? Because I was a daft kid who thought she was being a rebel. And I had no shame, and I thought it was an easy way to earn money. But if I’d had any clue that God was going to punish me with you two, I wouldn’t just have kept my knickers on … I’d have invested in a habit and wimple, and booked myself into a sodding nunnery.’

She stormed out of the tiny room.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ Lucy muttered, ‘I doubt I’ll be a police officer for much longer.’

Back in the clubhouse, a degree of normality had returned. The music had been switched back on, but at a lower volume. The bikers and their girls talked together as they drank beer and smoked. Armstrong stood to one side with arms folded, face etched with irritation as Hells Kells poured vitriol into his ear. He was only distracted from this, when Cora appeared and pointed at the bottles on the nearby table.

‘One of those going spare?’ she asked.

‘Thought you were feeling ill?’ he said.

‘Are you a doctor now, Kyle? As well as a layabout and a criminal?’

‘Sweet Mary!’ he moaned. ‘Like today’s not bad enough without my ex’s mum giving me grief too! Someone give her a bloody beer!’

Lucy was as surprised as anyone to come back in and find her mother with a bottle at her lips.

Before she could say anything, Tommy Five Bellies waddled in as well. ‘There’s another one here, Kyle.’ He nodded at Lucy. ‘Says he needs to speak to her ladyship.’

Armstrong looked impressed. ‘That was quick.’

But for Lucy it was too quick.

Far too quick.

She darted over to her mother, looking to drag her to a hiding place, but it was too late.

Five Bellies went rigid in the doorway, face written with shock to feel the nub of a pistol pressed into the back of his skull. Slowly, clearly acting on whispered instructions, he raised his hands and shuffled forward.

Despite everything in this most shocking day of her life, Lucy was still unprepared for the sight of Danny Tucker, looking swish in a jacket and tie, but his face set like granite as he entered the clubhouse directly behind Five Bellies, one hand clutching the pistol, the other holding aloft his warrant card.

Good God … he wanted them to think this was legitimate police business.

‘Okay, folks!’ he shouted. ‘DS Tucker here, Crowley Robbery Squad. Nice and still please.’ He glanced towards her, and half-smiled. ‘Yeah, that’s it, Lucy … you too.’