Georgio breathed a heavy sigh of relief. ‘That’s fair enough, Donald, but then you was always fair-minded. I accept what you say. I admire you, you know. You’re a big man, a man with a reputation, yet you’ve got scruples. I know from experience that I can trust you implicitly. I only wish you afforded me the same consideration.’

Lewis grinned again, less hostile this time. ‘Oh, but I do, Georgio, I do.’

He stood up and held out his hand. Georgio knew he was being dismissed.

Getting up, he shook the cold hand before him and left the cell.

As he reached the door Lewis said, ‘By the way, Georgio, how’s your wife? Lovely-looking girl that. I hear she’s been a good little lass while you’ve been banged up. Not a lot of women like that these days. Pretty girl, if I remember rightly. Nice legs.’

Georgio turned and looked into Donald Lewis’s laughing countenance.

‘Be a shame if anything was to happen to her, wouldn’t it?’

As Georgio marched back to his own cell his head was reeling. One thing was paramount: he had to get out of this place, and he had to get out of it as soon as possible.

His appeal could take up to three years. It was this thought that frightened him so much.

Three days with Lewis breathing down his neck was a nightmare. How would he cope as the days stretched into months then years? One thing was certain: he was not going to give Lewis one iota of the money from the robbery. It was his, he was entitled to it, and it came to nearly three-quarters of a million pounds. If his plan came off, he would be sitting pretty for the rest of his life. No more robbing Peter to pay Paul on the building sites, no more worrying. He was waiting to see how long it took Donna to realise that the only real money they had was invested in the house. He didn’t even own the cars; they were on lease-hire. His credit was nearly up with the building suppliers and the money from the car lot was like pocket money. He had been living beyond his means for years.

But then, didn’t everyone? It was the dream of the young Tory government in the early eighties.

Borrow now, pay back later.

Well, the paying was always the hardest part, and all his life Georgio Brunos had avoided doing anything he didn’t like.

Donna sat in the restaurant in Canning Town, watching as Pa Brunos prepared Kleftiko, his large, chubby hands moving around the worktop deftly. He was singing softly to himself. Donna breathed in the smells of the kitchen, the oregano, basil and red wine which were always present.

She sipped at her own white wine and sighed gently. ‘Pa, can I ask you something?’