She put the phone down and looked once more at the policewoman, who stared back at her as if she found her offensive. Donna dropped her eyes in confusion. She could hear Dolly’s strident voice coming from the small office.

‘You’ve got a bleedin’ nerve, coming round here and turning over law-abiding people! What are you doing? I’ve only just cleaned that place up! I hope you’re going to tidy up when you go!’

Donna sank down on a chair in her lounge and listened to the noise and confusion around her. The lounge looked like a bomb had dropped on it. Drawers were turned out, the carpet had been pulled up, the glassware in the cabinets was scattered all over the place. They were taking up the bedroom floorboards now and she could hear the dull thump of tools and the muted voices of the police officers as they laughed and joked their way through their job.

Standing, she walked towards the door. The policewoman immediately stood in front of her.

‘You’re not going anywhere, lady.’

The voice was deep, manly, and Donna saw as well as heard the contempt in the woman before her. A rush of annoyance came over her and she shoved the woman out of her way roughly.

‘You got the “lady” bit right anyway. Now I want to talk to whoever is in charge, and I want to know what bloody grounds they have for tearing apart my home!’

She stormed out into the hallway and stood uncertainly for a few moments, not sure exactly what to do. Picking up the onyx hall phone she dialled Harry and Bunty’s number. Harry answered himself.

‘Hello, Harry? The police are turning over my home and you said if I needed any help, I only had to ask. Well, I am asking now. Georgio is already doing eighteen years. What more do these bloody people want, eh? What else is he supposed to have done?’ She asked Harry the questions as if he could answer them and this wasn’t lost on him.

‘Stay put, Donna. I’ll see what I can do.’

She smiled grimly into the mouthpiece. ‘You do that, Harry. You do that.’

Slamming down the phone, she stormed up the stairs and walked into her bedroom. A male CID officer was holding up a sheer black bra; he had obviously just made a joke and Donna felt the rage build inside.

‘Well, as you can see, young man, they’re hardly big enough to hide anything inside, so why don’t you put my underwear back in the drawer like a good little boy and then get the hell out of my house!’

Frank Laughton was standing in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and he felt a moment’s sympathy for the woman in front of him. He could see the hurt, fear and confusion in her face.