Noel and Jamsie came into the kitchen noisily, but shut up when they saw their father. They both seemed to be nervous around him. Whatever had happened on the day of the Communion must have been serious. Serious enough for her husband to refuse to even acknowledge their presence in any way for months on end.

‘All right, Dad?’ Jamsie asked warily.

Daniel smiled benignly at them. ‘I’m all right. Now, shut up – the news is on.’

He turned up the volume, and Lena poured the boys out mugs of tea. They sat around the glass table, and she took their breakfasts out of the oven and served them quickly and quietly.

The TV was loud, and she was just about to ask her husband to turn it down but, as she opened her mouth to speak, he hushed her with a furious wave of his arm. The newsreader’s voice was tinny in the quiet of the room.

‘Two men were found murdered last night in East London. They had both been shot, execution style, in the back of the head. Police have named them as Gerald and Patrick Daly, two brothers from the Liverpool area. Police are treating the murders as gangland-related, and have appealed for anyone who might have any information regarding this incident to call them . . .’

Lena saw the way her sons looked at one another, and she knew that the news they had just heard was somehow relevant to both of them.

Daniel had finally turned the TV down and, sitting at the table, he opened his newspaper and started to read it without a word. But the atmosphere in the room was heavy with menace, and she could feel the animosity pouring from her husband. Lena wanted to scream in frustration at the futility of it all.

‘You want any more toast, lads? You got enough?’

They both shook their heads mutely, and she felt so sorry for them, but she knew that she could not interfere.

Ten minutes later they left the house, and the atmosphere immediately lightened.

Daniel got up and walked to the back door,

‘Look at that garden, Lena, like a painting, ain’t it? The gardener says we can expect colour all year round. What do you think of that, eh? He’s a nice old boy, knows his onions so to speak!’

Lena smiled dutifully. ‘Is everything all right with the boys, Daniel?’

He laughed. ‘It is now, Lena, so don’t worry about it. I’ve had to pull them into line, that’s all.’

She sighed. As always she chose to believe him, that was always easiest.

Daniel watched her for a few minutes. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lena! What the fuck is wrong with you lately, girl? You’re walking round like a fucking tit in a trance! Are you feeling all right, love? Are you sickening for something?’