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.

Donna stared out of the window and sighed gently. It was all set now. Even if she wanted to pull out, she couldn’t, she was in over her head. Georgio knew it, and she knew it. The knowledge upset her. She had envisioned herself keeping apart from it all somehow, being part of it but not actually taking a part. She now knew that she was wrong. She could be arrested at any time; if anyone got the slightest inkling of what was about to go down, she could be hauled into a police station and questioned. She could be charged with conspiracy, and God knew what else. Once Georgio was out she could be put behind bars for a long time if they were caught.

Although these thoughts had floated in and out of her consciousness at different times over the last few months, she hadn’t really let them take substance, because she knew if she thought about them too much she would have backed out, proved a coward. Now, after meeting Eric, she knew exactly what she had done and she also had an inkling of what she could end up having thrown at her.

When Maeve had accused her of becoming like Georgio she had realised just how astute her mother-in-law was. Donna had felt a rage inside her at the thought of Lewis’s henchmen coming to the restaurant. Had the rage always been there or had it developed over the past months? The question frightened her. All she had wanted was her husband. Home. Her husband whom she had been convinced was as pure as the driven snow. She smiled as she thought of her naivety. Had she really thought that over the years - really, deep down? Had she honestly thought Georgio was such a perfect man?

She couldn’t answer that. Georgio was Georgio, and whatever he was, she had wanted him . . . still wanted him. And the only way to get him was to fight for him.