Donna heard the doorbell and sighed with relief. Georgio was home. He would take over in that easy way he had, and soon everyone would forget that he hadn’t turned up for the meal, and would all vie with one another to assure him they didn’t mind waiting for him in the least.

She stood up and Harry Robertson said snidely, ‘Now then, Donna, don’t you go giving him a hard time - at least not until we’ve all gone home.’ Everyone laughed dutifully. It was on the tip of Donna’s tongue to reply: ‘Oh, you are going home, then? That’s something to look forward to anyway.’

As she left the room she heard Bunty’s voice, as she knew she was meant to, saying, ‘Honestly - Donna!’ in that maddening tone she had. Closing the door firmly behind her, she met Dolly in the hallway.

‘It’s all right, I’ll answer the door.’

Dolly shrugged and went back into the kitchen.

Donna’s heart sank as she saw four large outlines through the glass of the double front doors. Georgio had brought people home on top of everything else. Her headache was heavier now, a migraine in the making. Putting her shoulders back and pushing out her narrow chest, she plastered a big smile on her face and opened the door. Georgio always liked her to be in control, or at least look as if she was in control.

‘Mrs Donna Brunos?’

The uniforms of two of the men registered in her mind and she felt the panic well up inside her chest.

‘Yes . . . I’m Mrs Brunos. My husband, Georgio . . . What’s happened?’ In her imagination she saw him in the twisted wreckage of his Mercedes Sports. Remembered all her warnings to him to drive carefully. She was totally unprepared for what she heard next.

The bigger of the men in plain clothes was mouthing words at her, she was shaking her head in denial, then they were actually walking into her home.

‘We have a warrant to search these premises.’

‘A what?’ She was aware that Dolly was beside her, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she registered loud laughter coming from the dining room.

‘Your husband was arrested today for armed robbery. He is being held at Chelmsford police station. I am Detective Inspector Frank Laughton from the Serious Crime Squad . . .’

The migraine was bearing down on her, jagged, probing. She heard the dining-room door open and Harry Robertson emerged, Council Planning Officer and pillar of the local community, asking in his strident voice what the hell was going on - and then, mercifully, she passed out.