Barry ‘the Biceps’ Peterson was the head doorman for Storm Securities. They controlled most of the doors in Liverpool city centre. Getting them onside was crucial if you wanted to sell drugs without any hassle in their venues. Grace made sure that she gave Barry and his lads a decent cut of the money they made. She always made sure her partners were well compensated – it usually ensured they remained loyal and didn’t bother looking elsewhere for business. If anyone tried undercutting her, she was happy to negotiate new terms. All via Patrick and Michael, obviously. They were the public face that people dealt with so that Grace was able to remain in the shadows. Ever the respectable businesswoman.

Patrick often joked that her rise to the top of the criminal ranks was one of the best kept secrets in Liverpool. Grace liked it that way. She was happy for him and Michael to take the credit for her success, and in turn take most of the aggro too.

‘It must be nice working with Michael again?’ Grace said.

Patrick shrugged. ‘Bittersweet really. It’s great to work with my lad, but I’d hoped he might go legit after he got out of the nick. But he’s never been cut out for a nine to five. He takes after me.’

‘Yeah. He wasn’t happy just working in the bar, was he? And he’s great at what he does, Pat. You taught him well.’

Patrick couldn’t hide the look of pride on his face. ‘I did, didn’t I? What about Jake? What if he wanted to go into the family business?’

Grace shook her head. ‘No chance. That boy is going to university and getting a proper job,’ she laughed.

If Patrick was offended, he didn’t show it. ‘Michael wants the same for his boys too,’ he sighed. ‘I’m just not sure they’ve got it in them. Did you know they’ve been expelled again?’

Grace shook her head. ‘That’s three different schools now, isn’t it?’

‘Yep. Michael’s having a word with the head to see if he can persuade him to take them back.’

‘The things we do for our sons eh, Pat?’ She laughed as she took a sip of her wine.

‘Well we love them. Have to, don’t we? Do anything for them, all of us. Michael, you, me, your dad, even Tommy.’

It took a few seconds for Grace to register what he’d said. ‘Tommy?’ she asked when she did. ‘He had a son?’

Patrick’s face flushed faster than an automatic toilet. He stared into his plate of food as though it held the key to life’s mysteries.

‘Pat?’ she snapped. ‘Did Tommy have a son?’

‘No … I don’t know what I was saying,’ he stammered.

‘Come on, Pat. I’m not daft. I can tell by your reaction. Just tell me.’