He had come alone, a fact that was noted by Danny and his brothers with respect. In the present climate, there were not many men who would come alone to a meet like this. The Baileys – especially Daniel Bailey – would not exactly be likely to be at their most amenable at this tragic time in their lives.

When Daniel Bailey walked into the Portakabin with his daughter, Dessie felt his heart actually skip a beat. He was terrified to the point of virtual apoplexy now, even though he was innocent of any misdeeds against the Bailey clan. Of course, there was the added bonus that anyone with information would also collect a hefty wedge for their trouble. But Dessie liked to think he was doing this for the right reasons; if he was correct and got a reward of some kind that would just be a bonus.

‘Dessie. Good to see you, mate.’ Daniel Bailey shook his hand firmly, and Dessie felt himself begin to relax. ‘I hear you want to talk to me?’

Dessie nodded.

Danny made a face at his father, gesturing towards his sister. It was clear to everyone, including the young girl, that he did not want her in the room.

His father snorted. ‘Take her out to the night-watchman’s office. Put on the heater and the telly for her.’

‘I’m all right! I’m not a kid!’ Tania protested.

Her brothers laughed; Davey took her gently by the arm and removed her from the Portakabin. Walking her quickly across the yard, he could sense her annoyance, but he was not too bothered; she would get over it.

As he led her into the office, he said gently, ‘You must realise, sis, you can’t be a part of this, OK?’

‘I am a part of it, though! I’m as much a Bailey as any of you.’ She could see the sorrow in her brother’s eyes at the truth of her words.

‘Look, Tania, this could get a bit out of order. The less you know, darling, the better.’

She sighed in frustration. ‘I ain’t a fucking kid, Davey!’

He turned to her, and she could see his shock at her choice of words. ‘That’s enough of that language, OK? Do you think Mum would have let you talk like that, eh? Have a bit of respect.’

He left the small room, and she sat down on the smelly armchair. Gritting her teeth, she wondered how they could still treat her like a child after the last few days. Her mother had been blown apart by a bomb – a bomb meant for her uncle – but she had been coming to fetch her, so she had endured that guilt every second of every day since. She wanted to take her revenge on the culprit as much as they did – why couldn’t they see that? She finally wanted to cry, but she was not going to.