Maeve was crying for what could have been, and Donna was crying for all the children in Sri Lanka and the rest of the world who had been harmed by the two men buried earlier in the day.

Maeve whispered into Donna’s ear, ‘I’ll see to the child, Donna. You’re a good woman to have told me everything.’

Donna smiled through her tears. She sincerely hoped that Georgio’s son gave Maeve more happiness than his father ever had.

Donna was saved from answering by Uncle Jimmy beginning to sing ‘Kevin Barry’. From long experience Donna knew that once the Irish rebel songs began, the wake was about to turn into a party. Tears and laughter would be the order of the day, then the reminiscences.

Maeve turned from her and began to sing with him:

In Mountjoy jail, one Monday morning
High above the gallows tree
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.

Donna knew she had to sit the wake out, and she would do that. But only for Maeve and Pa and the family.

Not for Georgio or Stephen Brunos.

She was a free woman now and a wealthy one, who owned a building business, a car lot, and Talkto Enterprises, as well as two plots of barren land abroad, all of which she was selling to the highest bidder.

She was free, free and clear, with stolen money in her possession, as well as a house worth in excess of a million pounds. She was as free as a bird now.

Yet she still wasn’t happy.

There were too many loose ends to tie up.

Alan Cox arrived at Donna’s house at eleven-thirty in the morning the day after the funeral. Dolly opened the door to him.

‘What do you want?’ she snapped.

Alan smiled. A charming smile. ‘I’d like to see Donna, please.’

Dolly bridled. ‘Well, you can’t. She’s prostrate with grief and she can’t see anyone.’

Alan laughed. ‘I’m sure she is.’

He pushed past Dolly and walked into the house, calling Donna’s name.

Dolly shut the door and said, ‘She ain’t here.’

Alan looked at her. ‘Well, her car’s in the drive,’ he said loudly. ‘Don’t tell me she’s walked off somewhere. This house is in the back of beyond. Now where is she please, love? I have to see her, Dolly.’

Dolly shook her head in resignation. ‘She’s gardening. Sit in the kitchen and I’ll fetch her.’

Alan followed her through and said, ‘I’ll find her, while you get the kettle on, all right?’

He was past her and out into the garden before Dolly could answer.

He followed the pathway towards the tennis court. Turning a corner, he came across Donna dressed in tight jeans, a thick cable jumper and Wellingtons, looking far too elegant to be burning rubbish in a small brazier.