Tony was surprised. At home, funerals invariably happened within three days of the death, a wake marking the time the family spent keeping vigil with the remains during that period. This was different.

‘Let me know when you hear, will you?’

Emma nodded tearfully and turned to rejoin her group.

‘One other thing,’ Tony asked, moving closer to her again and lowering his voice a little. ‘Where did she get the tabs?’

Emma shook her head, not able to squarely meet Tony’s gaze for the first time since they had started speaking. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Look at me,’ Tony said, sharper now. ‘Did she buy them here?’

Emma nodded.

‘From Martin Kelly?’

‘I think that’s his name,’ she whispered. ‘He calls himself the man who walked or something.’

‘Shaved head, bag strapped across his chest?’

She nodded. Then suddenly, as if in a panic, added, ‘But you can’t say I told you. Please.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Tony said. ‘It’ll be fine.’

By the time he made it back to his seat, Duggan had arrived and he and Karen were discussing what they’d gleaned from the surveillance.

‘You all right, big man?’ Duggan asked, when Tony approached.

‘Fine,’ he said, distractedly, as he scanned the bar, looking for Kelly.

‘You sure?’ Karen asked, shifting over in the seat to allow him to join her in the booth. She passed his pint across to him. He lifted it and drank in gulps, draining the pint three-quarters of the way down the glass.

‘What are we talking about?’ he asked, though he almost instantly tuned out of the conversation, his hands balled into fists, resting on his knees which pounded up and down to the rhythm of his anger. Her could feel his arms coursing with adrenaline tremors.

Just then, the bar door opened and Kelly walked in, his bag strapped across his chest as ever, already surveying the bar’s corners, looking perhaps for them, perhaps for his evening’s customers.

Tony was out of his seat and across to Kelly almost before the door had closed behind him. He greeted his approach with a smile initially, misunderstanding Tony’s eagerness to see him, so that he did not expect the punch when it came.

The force of the swing, combined with Tony’s own momentum, meant that the blow took Kelly full in the face and knocked him backwards off his feet. He careened into a table and low bar stools, which clattered in all directions as he fell among them.

Tony could hear the reactions of those around and, as he moved for a second blow over the prostrate Kelly, he felt hands gripping at him. He turned, raising his fists against those who were trying to stop him, when he saw that it was Duggan holding him back.

‘Don’t even think about it, pal,’ Duggan growled and, as quickly as it had built, Tony felt his anger dissipate.