‘You should put some of Maria’s make-up on that rash for the photo,’ George told Aidan and laughed, as did Tommy.

‘Now we know why he prefers the soft touch of nylon,’ Tommy added in a simpering voice.

‘Fuck off, the pair of ya,’ Aidan grumbled.

‘Right, everyone smile at the camera,’ the photographer said.

Jane thought how surreal it felt to find herself dressed up to the nines and standing in the middle of a group of hardened criminals who hated the police and would have shot her without a second thought.

As the photographer took the pictures, Jane saw a maroon Jensen Interceptor, with a man and a woman in it, coming down the driveway towards the house. She felt her heart rate increase as the Jensen pulled up by the house. The man and woman got out and walked across the lawn towards the assembled guests. The man was carrying a large gift-wrapped box, and wearing the exact same coat as Rachel described – a knee-length brown camel hair coat with a black suede collar. He did look like Bela Lugosi, too. He was nearly six feet tall, in his early fifties, with dark slicked-back hair that she suspected was dyed. He wore a blue three-piece pinstripe suit and walked with an air of confidence. The woman with him wore a wedding ring and was about the same age, elegantly dressed in a figure-hugging red dress and hat.

When George saw him, he went straight over and shook hands. Tommy Ripley, Smith and O’Reilly also greeted him warmly with big smiles. The man handed George the present, and he asked one of the waiters to put it in his study next to the lounge.

Jane looked at the registration of the Jensen, HLT 354N, and memorised it by repeating it over in her mind using the mnemonic HiLT-35-4 Nick. If and when she got the opportunity, she’d try and take a photograph. She managed to take a few photographs of the guests as they gathered for the large group photo and, holding her camera down by her side, took a few risky potshots of the man in the camel hair coat.

The professional Master of Ceremonies, dressed in a red jacket and black trousers, called everyone into the marquee and announced that the meal was about to start. The receiving line consisted of the bride and groom and both sets of parents. Jane felt her stomach churn as she shook hands with George.

‘Lovely service, Mr Ripley,’ she told him.

‘You the girl from the cafe?’ He smiled.

‘Yes, Carl invited me.’

He looked her up and down. ‘You’re far too good-looking for him, darlin’.’

Jane forced a smile and moved on.