That was at three thirty. Now here Lil came, striding along the hall, the rotten strip lighting bleaching out her face, her eyes full of anxiety, casting left and right. Angel stood up and Lil’s eyes fastened on her niece. Lil hurried forward and, to Angel’s absolute surprise, caught her in a tight hug. Then she pushed her back and looked into her eyes.

‘Have you heard anything? Has anyone spoken to you?’ she demanded.

Oh God, how could she tell her? But she had to. She’d been threatened, and – oh shit – if Tom had been targeted because of his relationship to her and to Dora, then the whole family could be in danger and they couldn’t be kept in the dark about it, it wasn’t fair.

But Lil was haring away, over to the nurses’ station, demanding to know what was happening with Tom and getting precisely nowhere. She came back to where Angel was waiting.

‘They took him straight down to surgery,’ said Angel.

For the first time ever, Angel saw her aunt’s strong face crumple in despair.

‘Oh God! If he dies . . .’ she started.

Angel grabbed her arm. ‘He’s not going to die. Look.’ She didn’t want to tell Lil the rest of it but she had to. ‘They said there was pressure on the brain from a small rupture. They said they had to relieve the pressure. Then they took him straight down to operate.’

‘He’s going to die,’ wept Lil. ‘He’s all I have. My only child. And I’m going to lose him.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Angel. ‘Tom’s tough. He’ll come through it. Come on. Sit down.’

Angel guided her aunt to a chair and sat beside her, not knowing what to do, just rubbing Lil’s arm while she wept.

‘Shh,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

But how could it be?

Tell her said a voice in her brain. You have to tell her.

‘Aunt Lil, there’s something you have to know,’ said Angel.

Lil turned a tear-stained face toward her. ‘What?’ she said in alarm.

Angel shook her head. ‘It’s nothing to do with Tom. It’s to do with my mum.’

‘Dora? What d’you mean?’

‘Do you know anyone by the name of Frank Pargeter?’ Angel asked.

‘Frank . . . ?’ Lil looked vague, then her eyes sharpened. She fished out a hankie and dried her eyes, sniffing. ‘Yes. I know Frank Pargeter. Or I did. Years back. Nasty type. A gangster. He was doing life, last I heard, for murder. Dora testified against him. She got mixed up with him, and I think she always regretted it. He beat her up when she was carrying you. He was pissed off because you weren’t his kid. She thought she’d lost you. She was amazed that you survived.’

Angel breathed in deep; her mother had never told her anything about that.

‘A man came to the club about a week ago,’ she said. ‘He grabbed my wrist over the bar and said he had a message from Frank Pargeter. He said this ain’t over. It was a warning for all the O’Briens, he said.’