Farmer picked up the sheaf of papers, folded them and put them in the inside pocket of his raincoat. ‘Thank you.’

‘We are always h-happy to assist the police,’ said Mr Leigh.

Barry Leigh was relieved when the Detective Inspector had departed. He picked up the phone straight away, having to wipe his damp palms on his trousers first. Then he got through to the number he wanted and spoke. Sweat was dripping in his eyes and he was remembering one particular party, long long ago, at the flat DI Farmer was asking about.

135

Angel was sick to death of applying for jobs. Either they didn’t reply at all, or they did and she found herself zooming all over the city time and again, only to be told no.

‘Fuck it,’ said Tom on several occasions. ‘I told you. I could use someone else behind the bar, come down the club and give it a go.’

Angel shook her head. ‘Tom. We live together. If we worked together too, we’d get sick of the sight of each other.’

Apart from Angel’s job situation, there was this bigger business with Tom and his clingy bloody family. He’d been angry when she’d slapped down Aunt June and Angel had – to his surprise – barked back at him. A chill had descended that lasted for days. Then Tom had made her a bacon sarnie and said: ‘Look, let’s not fight. They’re my family, OK? I can’t help that. Come to that, they’re your family too.’

‘Yeah, but they’ve never bothered with me. Or with Mum.’

‘Christ, you can’t half hold a grudge, can’t you?’ Tom was half-laughing, half-annoyed. Then he frowned. ‘I heard you screaming last night. In your sleep.’

‘Oh! Sorry,’ said Angel.

‘You always had these bad dreams?’

The dreams had recently returned. Maybe she would never be completely free of them. Guilt flooded through her again. Donny Maguire haunted her dreams, blood-stained and vengeful. And maybe she deserved that. If Tom knew what she truly was – a vile murderer – then he wouldn’t want to be sharing a flat with her at all.

‘Look,’ said Tom reasonably. ‘My mum and Aunt June – they only come in once or twice a week.’

‘Couldn’t they at least ring the doorbell first?’

‘Gawd, I’m beginning to understand about women now.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I mean you’re all crazy! That men are just territory to the lot of you. You know the Japanese symbol for war?’

Angel squinted. ‘No. What is it?’

‘Two women under one roof.’

Angel had to smile at that. ‘All right, I’ll play nice. Or if I find them in here, I’ll go back out again.’

‘You ought to feel sorry for Aunt June anyway,’ said Tom.

‘Why should I do that?’

‘She’s had a sad life. First her disability, then no husband, no kids of her own. Look, I know she’s got a rotten manner, but she’s good-hearted really, and you know what? I think she does feel bad about your mum, and not keeping up with you, deep down. But she’d never admit it.’