Seeing Theresa so excited about her granddaughter’s Communion was something he had never thought would affect him so much, but it had, and he was looking forward to it as much as she was.

Theresa Bailey was a bit of a girl – there was no doubt about that! He had known her many years ago, and he had admired her then for the way she had worked for her boys, and shrugged off the stigma not only of having two children out of wedlock, but of having a child of colour into the bargain. In their day that had taken a lot of guts, and she had more guts than most of the men he knew. She had been devoted to her boys, which had been apparent to anyone who knew her, and she had never apologised for either of them. He had a sneaking feeling, though, that these days she felt the strain of her younger son more than she let on.

Daniel Bailey, the slippery little fucker, was trying to elbow his way into his affairs, and he was not sure if he was pleased about that or not. A part of him was amenable to letting a younger man take on some of the responsibility – Tommy was not as driven as he had been years ago. But Tommy was in a unique position as the mastermind behind his earn – he laundered money for anyone who was anyone. He could take ill-gotten gains and make them into legal money with the least amount of fuss. That was his forte, and he had a niche in the market. He didn’t have a lot of people in his employ, but those he did have, he trusted implicitly. Handpicked, they were aware of the risks involved, which, although minimal thanks to his forward planning, were still dangerous enough to give the average person food for thought. It was a delicate and intricate business, needing a steady hand and, more importantly, someone who understood economics – of both the global and the criminal variety.

Tommy was a natural; he instinctively knew where to place money and when to withdraw money, he knew where to spend the cash and on what. These days he laundered money for the Russians. They were caked up with money – drug money, he assumed. He had a few tame lawyers in his employ who were more than happy to organise cash purchases of expensive properties in London and arrange large mortgages on them. Subsequently, the owners of these properties now had legitimate cash to spend, invest or just put into high-interest accounts. It was a doddle really, and these days he was bored with it. He would not be averse to Daniel Bailey doing the donkey work, giving him more time to enjoy his old age.