‘Oh God,’ gasped Dora. ‘I’m so—’

‘Don’t say you’re sorry, because I wouldn’t believe it.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘Sure you are.’ His mouth twisted. ‘And now there’s Dad. All this . . . it’s changed him. Half the time he don’t even know which way is up. It’s affected his brain. He’s . . . not right.’

‘You can’t blame me for all that,’ said Dora.

‘Yeah, I can. I’m the last Maguire standing, Dora. Dad’s a dead man walking. There’s only me left to set this right.’

‘Donny . . .’

‘And then there’s the rest of it.’

‘What? What “rest”?’

‘You and Frank and Dickie Cole. Remember the Saturday afternoon party at Kim’s?’

Dora did. What she remembered most often was Frank murdering Tony Dillon. The blood. The sheer chilling horror of it.

‘Well, Kim’s out of it. So are a few of the other guests who were there, living it up, sniffing coke and getting drunk out their stupid skulls.’

‘What do you mean, “out of it”?’ Dora remembered Kim. The stunning hostess at the party, the one in the skin-tight blue sheath dress.

‘She’s dead, Dora.’

‘What?’

Donny was nodding, as if all this made perfect sense, when to her it was a window onto another world. A mad, dangerous world she had never wanted to be a part of but had somehow stumbled into.

‘Kim’s dead. We fished her out of the river but she was dead before she even went in it.’ He stood up so suddenly that Dora flinched. ‘Come on, let’s go get a cup of tea. Pregnant women got to drink plenty, ain’t that the case?’

‘I don’t . . .’

‘Come on.’ He took her arm, yanked her to her feet. Hustled her out the door.

Out in the corridor, it was quiet. There was no one about. The scenery floated by and suddenly Dora felt that this was all surreal, that maybe she was dreaming and would wake up in a moment. She hoped so. Oh Christ, she really hoped so.

Donny was hurrying her along the corridor, not letting go of her arm.

And then, as they reached a door, he stopped. Looked left and right.

There was nobody to see what he was doing. No witnesses. Nothing.

Dora felt it then – she knew what he was going to do.

‘No!’ she gasped out.

Donny took no notice. He opened the door of the train and the wind whipped in, cutting like an icy knife. Dora felt the air rush out of her body as reality hit her. He dragged her close against him. Now she was struggling, fighting him, but he was too strong.

He was going to throw her from the train.

He was going to kill her.

49

‘You can’t, you can’t!’ Dora was shouting. Or at least she was trying to shout, but shock was taking the breath from her. What came out was little more than half-strangled whimpers.

Donny was bundling her up in his arms, dangling her from the open door of the train.