She’d lost a child of her body, he was never coming home again. Stephen, the least loved of her children, the one she found it difficult to love, had always found it difficult to love, was lying somewhere on a tropical island, alone, dead and cold. His handsome features never to age, his mother never to get over the loss of him, even though she was telling herself that she was pleased it was him and not one of the others.

Pa took one look at his wife, and the police, and knew that death was stalking his family.

Taking Maeve’s hand in his, he listened silently and without tears to what the older policeman was telling him.

Jonnie H. was nervous. Sweat trickled down his back, even though the van was freezing.

‘You checked the bikes over?’ he asked yet again.

The oldest McAnulty brother sighed heavily.

‘Will ye fucking calm down, Jonnie? Everything’s ready to go.’

Jonnie lit a cigarette and drew on it heavily.

‘I hate the waiting. Never was any good at waiting, know what I mean?’

Danny nodded. ‘It doesnae bother me. In Scotland waiting is a national pastime.’ He laughed loudly. ‘Especially on the Clyde. I’ve had to wait all my life.’

Jonnie stared at him for a while and said, ‘Just my fucking luck, stuck on a jump with a Scottish philosopher! Here, you didn’t marry a social worker, did you? I hear they do your brain in and there’s a load of them hanging around in Scottish nicks, just waiting to marry a con and write a book about it.’

Danny smiled wryly. ‘You Cockneys have a weird sense of humour, Jonnie.’

Jonnie grinned, showing his extensive teeth. ‘It ain’t that we’ve got a weird sense of humour, Danny, me old mate, it’s more a case of the Scottish ain’t got one!’

One of the younger brothers, Iain, said loudly, ‘What about Billy Connolly then?’

Jonnie nodded and said soberly, ‘All right, I’ll concede the Big Yin, but I reckon he’s got an English granny somewhere along the line. He was a bleedin’ throwback!’

They all laughed, nervous laughter that was too high and too long.

Jonnie pulled on his cigarette again.

‘I hate the waiting, I can’t stand the waiting.’

‘You should get yourself a ten-stretch, Jonnie, you’d soon get used to waiting then. There’s nothing like a big one to give you patience.’

‘Well, mate, if everything goes wrong today, I might just find that out for myself.’

The van was quiet then, the men all contemplating getting caught.

Danny’s voice was low as he said, ‘Calm down, everyone. It’s nerves that make people do things wrong, that get someone shot or killed. We’ll be in and out in no time. So stop worrying and let’s put the radio on. Maybe we’ll find a good play on Radio Four.’