‘She continues to maintain her reputation as one of the best fiction authors around with this gritty and unforgettable story of a family immersed in a world of violence and revenge. Spectacular’ Closer

‘A typical blend of EastEnders with the Sopranos and a few of the nastier moments of The Forsyte Saga’ The Times

‘A blinding good read’ Ray Winstone

Dedication

I dedicate this book to
Les and Christopher

I would like to thank my agent, Darley Anderson, for his faith, his trust and most of all his friendship.

Many thanks to Sergeant Steven Bolger of the Windermere Police Department, Florida, for all his help while I researched this book.

And a little thanks to Julie, for typing and typing and typing.

And a special thanks to my husband and son, they know what for.

Book One

Book One

Of all the griefs that harass the distress’d
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest;
Fate never wounds more deep the gen’rous heart,
Than when a blockhead’s insult points the dart

- Samuel Johnson, 1709-84

I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction

- Isaiah, 48:10

Prologue

Prologue

‘All I asked you to do was take off your muddy shoes. For Christ’s sake, George, are you thick or something? Can’t you even take in the most simple thing?’

Elaine Markham looked at her husband’s expressionless face and fought down an urge to slam her fist into it. She could feel herself gritting her teeth and made a conscious effort to relax. Once more her eyes went to the wet mud all over her kitchen floor.

Sighing heavily, she took out the floor cloth from underneath the kitchen sink, slammed the cupboard door shut and began to fill a plastic bowl with water. George Markham watched his wife as she sprinkled some Flash into the water. Sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, he began to remove his gardening shoes, careful not to let any more mud or dirt fall on the pristine floor.

Elaine turned from the sink with the bowl of water and shrieked at him: ‘Can’t you do that on a piece of newspaper? Are you so stupid you can’t even think of doing a simple thing like that?’

George stared at his wife for a few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip.

‘I’m sorry, Elaine.’ His voice was low and bewildered. The sound of it made his wife screw her eyes up tight.

Pulling off his shoes, George went to the kitchen door and dropped them outside. Shutting the door carefully, he turned back to his wife.

‘Give me that, Elaine. I’ll clean up the mess.’ He smiled at her sadly, causing her breathing to become laboured. She shook her head in irritation.