But there were two problems when it came to him dealing with Franny. The first was that she was a woman, and that fact pissed him off no end. He couldn’t just go in and give her a hiding like he’d normally do when someone was blatantly mugging him off. He couldn’t just slap her around and give her a good kicking she wouldn’t forget, which led him on to problem number two: Franny was well aware that this was the case, and God, didn’t it just play right into her hands. She was having a proper laugh at his expense.

He had to admit, there was part of him that was tempted to ignore his own rule book, ignore the bottom line of her being a woman, because after all, Franny was as much a part of this life as he was, as Alfie was, as any of the other faces were, and there was no way he’d ever dream of giving them special treatment, so why would he give it to Franny?

Franny knew the rules of a life of crime; she knew the consequences as well. Jesus, the woman had been born into the business; her father had been a number-one face and he’d taught her everything he knew.

Instead of playing with dolls and doll’s houses like other little girls, Franny had been taught how to pick locks and pick pockets by her father. Party tricks, he’d called them. So, when the criminal fraternity met up at Patrick’s house, Franny, at the age of only eight or nine, had been the star attraction, delighting in showing off her skills, her party tricks, much to the amusement of everybody assembled and to the great pride of her father.

And as a result, there was no mistaking the fact that Franny knew how it all worked. No mistaking that she knew if she played with fire, she’d get well and truly scorched, and that’s why Franny always played the female card. She hid behind it, saw herself as untouchable because of it. And to a point, as much as it irked him, got under his skin, she was right. Therefore, no matter how much he wanted to knock whatever it was she was hiding out of her, he couldn’t quite bring himself to raise his hand to a woman. Though he supposed killing her would be a different matter. After all he wouldn’t have to touch her. He wouldn’t have to lay one finger on her. He wouldn’t even have to go very near her. A bullet travelled far … Oh yes, killing Franny Doyle would be easy. It might even be the solution.