He saw her as she had been when she was eleven. Her hair a mass of blonde around a tiny heart-shaped face.

‘Mummy won’t be coming home any more, Princess.’ The feel of her little skinny sobbing body had helped to allay his own grief. He had had to pick himself up and brush himself down for Mandy’s sake. He had comforted her through the inevitable nightmares and depressions. He had tried his hardest to be a good father to her. To be there for her always. To protect her.

And for what? For that ponce to batter her brains out on a filthy floor while he raped her. It would have been better if she had been in the car with his wife. At least that way she would have died without all the shame and fear. It would all have been over in seconds.

Willy knocked softly on the door and stepped into the room. ‘Any news yet, Pat?’

He shook his head.

‘Never mind, no news is good news. Can I get you a coffee or anything?’

Kelly looked at Willy’s big moon face and felt a surge of affection.

‘I love you, Willy, you know that?’ The words were quietly spoken and the minder knew their significance. Together they had been through the worst life has to offer.

Willy smiled. ‘I never had you down as a shirtlifter, Pat.’

Kelly laughed painfully.

‘Oh, Willy, only you could get away with that.’

‘Have a nice cup of coffee, Pat, it’ll settle your nerves.’

‘All right. Shove a drop of brandy in it, would you?’

Willy opened the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he said in his best man-to-man voice. ‘I recipcreat your sentiments entirely.’

‘It’s reciprocate, Willy.’

‘Oh, who gives a toss, Pat? You know what I mean.’

Kelly smiled to himself. Kate had been right: Willy was the best friend he had. Sometimes he thought he was the only friend he had. The only genuine one anyway.

As if his thoughts had conjured her up, Kate’s car screeched to a halt outside.

One look at her dark expression told him everything and he braced himself for the onslaught he knew was to come. A brief of his had once told him: ‘Deny, deny, and deny again.’ Well, he’d need to use that tack now.

Kate pushed past Willy and into the entrance hall of Patrick’s house.

‘Where is he?’

Willy was so shocked he just pointed to the library door. She stormed in there to see Patrick sitting behind his desk, casually smoking a cigarette.

‘Hello, Kate.’ He stood up, smiling at her widely.

‘Don’t you bloody “hello” me! I’ve just had the Third World War with Frederick Flowers over you. I’ve sussed you out, Patrick Kelly.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’