A tall, emaciated man was standing up. He was wearing a dark green suit and Donna thought he looked rather like a tally man or insurance salesman. His nose was long and thin, like his body, and his nostrils flared as he nodded his head.

‘We have, Your Honour.’

‘And is it a unanimous verdict?’

‘It is, Your Honour.’

The judge’s eyes swept the jury before he said loudly, ‘How do you find the defendant?’

The man looked at the floor and said distinctly, ‘Guilty as charged, sir.’

She saw her husband’s head shake in denial.

In her mind’s eye, she had pictured him at this moment jumping from his seat and screaming at Peter Wilson, calling him a liar and a grassing bastard. Saw him being restrained by two policemen, then escorted from the courtroom down into the depths of the Old Bailey to the holding cells, still protesting his innocence. She recalled his dignity and his calm demeanour during the first few days of the trial - a composure she had seen crushed as each witness that appeared helped put another nail into his already tightly closed coffin. Every day it had looked worse for him. He had stopped talking about how he was going to sue the police once it was all over, had stopped telling them all how he would be the victor in the end.

Now the moment of truth was at hand, her husband simply looked guilty, because all his credibility was gone . . . had vanished out of the door of the Old Bailey, along with Peter Wilson.

Peter Wilson, a man to whom Georgio had given generously, a man he had looked after, had set on his feet after a long term in prison. A man who had betrayed him without a second thought.

Donna was brought back to reality by Maeve’s voice beside her reciting the ‘Hail Mary’ in a monotonous undertone.

‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women . . .’

The clinking of the rosary beads was loud in the hushed quiet of the courtroom.

‘Georgio Anthony Brunos, you have been found guilty.’

Donna gasped, holding her hand to her breast as if to stem her heart’s erratic beating. Her eyes flew once more to Georgio. His face, normally so handsome and dark-skinned, was a sickly grey.

‘You have been found guilty of conspiracy to murder and conspiracy to commit armed robbery.’

The judge paused to take off his glasses, polish and replace them. It was a theatrical gesture and Donna knew this, but the people in the public gallery were leaning forward in their seats, enjoying the spectacle. Revelling in the tension.