His Donna, the most trustworthy of wives.

But Georgio, being a realist, knew he could never, ever trust himself. And Donna wanted him to want only her, and after all this was over she would demand his allegiance, feel she had earned it even, and Georgio knew he could never promise that to anyone. Not even Vida.

Not even to himself.

Donna couldn’t sleep; the day’s events had thrown her off balance. She sat in Georgio’s office, a cigarette and a glass of whisky her only companions. She sipped the burning liquid, enjoying the bite as it hit her throat and belly.

Meeting Eric had really shown her what she had let herself in for. She had looked at Alan and Anthony, listened to their easy talk, their easy acceptance of what was to happen, and real fear had enveloped her. Eric was right. Could she live with the constant thought of a knock on the door? Of a police raid? Could she live as a fugitive? She knew instinctively that Georgio could, she had few illusions left about her husband. All that was left, all that was certain, was her deep-seated love for him, a love he had ensnared long ago and which had grown over the years.

She stood up and walked to the window. Glimpsing the car parked to the left of the driveway, she knew that she was still being watched and the knowledge depressed her even more. Once the house was sold and they were off, would this become a way of life? Would they be watched constantly, would they ever know peace? Would Georgio be able to sleep easy in bed only because he knew hired help was watching his house for him? Would she be able to sleep knowing that? Would Donald Lewis find them or the police? Had Georgio told her everything or were there other people he had to watch out for, as if Donald Lewis and the police weren’t enough?

Donna knew she shouldn’t question herself too much; brooding like this was a bad thing, especially in the night, and with only a cigarette, a glass of scotch and her own active imagination for company. But it all seemed so real now; Eric had made it real. Once she had left Scotland and Liverpool it had ceased to seem real to her, but Eric was real. Too real. He spoke about the jump as if it was a game and she was sure that to him it was, a lucrative game that earned him a considerable amount of money and gave him the opportunity to get one in the eye of the establishment.