‘I’ll bring the money to your place tonight,’ he promised Little Dicky. ‘Keep your ear to the ground, boy, and remember - you’re listening just for me.’

Maeve arrived at Donna’s beaming and carrying a chocolate cake. Dolly let her in and their loud voices penetrated into Georgio’s office where Donna was going once more through all his papers. Sighing, she walked from the room, plastering a large smile on her face as she entered the warmth of the kitchen.

‘Hello, darlin’. I was just passing and thought I’d pop in.’

Donna smiled. There was no way anyone just passed her home. The three women knew this and all played the game.

‘I’ll make a pot of tea.’ Dolly began preparing it and Maeve stared into Donna’s face and inclined her head towards the back door. Donna frowned.

‘I heard the house was up for sale. Any takers yet?’

Donna shook her head. ‘No, but there’s a couple coming to look later on today.’

Maeve nodded. ‘How’s the garden looking?’

Dolly turned to answer this one. ‘It looks good as always, the gardener sees to that. Donna hasn’t the time these days, what with everything else.’

Maeve walked through the utility room and opened the back door. She stepped out into the garden and Donna followed her cue.

‘Give us a shout when the tea’s ready, Dolly.’

The two women disappeared and Dolly watched them follow the small pathway to the tennis court.

‘What on earth is all this cloak and dagger stuff about, Maeve?’ Donna asked.

The older woman sighed. She sounded depressed. ‘I heard about you and Stephen. I didn’t want to mention it in front of Dolly. She hears too much as it is.’

Donna frowned as she listened to Maeve’s sullen voice.

‘I think Stephen’s in trouble. We had a visit last night, to the restaurant. Three men. And let’s just say they weren’t respectable businessmen. They said to tell Stephen that Donald Lewis sent them.’

Donna felt her face drain of blood. ‘Lewis? But what would he want Stephen for?’

‘You tell me, love. There’s something happening, something going on, and I can’t seem to get to the bottom of it. I mentioned it to Mario and he just shrugged, told me that Stephen could take good care of himself, but I’m not so sure. I had a feeling it was to do with Georgio. He is my son, but God forgive me, Donna, sometimes lately I find it hard to carry on loving him. Whatever he’s involved in, Stephen’s in it too, up to his neck. Why didn’t they look for Stephen at his offices or his flat? Why did they come to the restaurant? That’s what worries me. It’s as if they came to our home knowing it would worry Stephen more.’