Donna arrived home at ten past three. She thanked the driver of her car and watched as he was then picked up by another man in a Mercedes. She stood on her driveway, dishevelled and half-drunk. The heat sensor lights were blazing and she looked around her as if for the first time.

The front garden was about seventy-five feet. It was neatly laid to lawn, with conifers screening each side and a large willow by the front gates. The gravel crunched under her feet as she wearily made her way to her front door.

As she selected the doorkey from the bunch in her hand she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Willing herself not to look, she stepped into her home, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Someone had been standing in between the conifers by the side of the house. She shuddered.

Walking up the stairs, she went into her bedroom and turned on the light. Then she crept back down the stairs in darkness, making her way slowly to the conservatory at the rear of the house. The conservatory ran along the whole back wall; it was huge, her pride and joy. It housed her swimming pool, the marble-tiled floor of which was a decorative feat in itself. This was also her reading room, having two large sofas, three chairs, a large table where she would eat in the summer, and a small bar area. From the far end she could see to the side of the house.

Donna groped her way along in the darkness, wishing she had not drunk so much brandy. Finally, she was there, and she pushed her face close to the window. The heat sensor lights would be going out at any moment then she wouldn’t see anything.

She watched in amazement as her back gate opened gently and a large man slipped through. She was even more amazed to see that it was Paddy Donovon.

The drink making her bold now, she waited until he was level with the window. She was just about to knock on it, to attract his attention, when she saw he was carrying a handgun. Then the lights went out and left the whole place once more in darkness.

Donna sat down on the cane chair by her side, her hands trembling. In the dimness she turned over the thoughts in her head.

Paddy definitely had a gun.

Was he here to harm her? She immediately dismissed this idea. She trusted Paddy with her life.

She closed her eyes.

Was her life in danger then? Was that why Paddy was creeping around her grounds in the middle of the night?

She tried to remember what the gun had looked like and failed. All she was sure of was that Paddy had a gun, and he was creeping around her house like Wee Willy Winky at half-past three in the morning.