Daniel Bailey was a happy man. He knew that he was a winner; he had what he wanted in more ways than one.

He sensed, though, that his Lena was less than happy these days. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making her jumpier than normal. He knew about her hoarding money; she always had, and he allowed for that, realised that it made her feel secure. He also knew where the money was which, as far as he was concerned, was all that mattered. He was impressed actually at how much she had salted away, and he understood how important it was for her to think that she was in control of that part of her life. The money came out of her so-called ‘housekeeping’ and, though they still lived it large, he knew they could live much larger than they currently did.

He allowed her the leeway he did because he wasn’t always as honest with her as he should be. But he was also well aware that she was not a woman who could cope with the reality of their situation in life. And now that the boys were growing up, she could see, he knew, that they were never going to be accountants or fucking suits. They were never going to be anything other than what they were: Baileys. And, as such, they were always going to be part of the firm.

He understood her fears. If he was to get a capture by the Old Bill, she would feel much better if she didn’t have to rely on other people to see her all right. She had money everywhere, and he loved that she was determined to look after not only herself but the kids as well. He didn’t take her hoarding as an insult, as if she didn’t trust him, because he knew that she did trust him – with her life. But she was from a background of people who didn’t make allowances for a rainy day. He remembered her mum and dad and how, after the first meeting, he had thanked God that his mother had been the woman she had. Reviled for her lifestyle and her two illegitimate children, his mother had, nevertheless, worked her fingers to the bone. It was strange really that her sons had both chosen the criminal lifestyle, because throughout their lives they had witnessed their mother working in real jobs, paying her taxes, and never claiming a penny from the state.

Theresa had always drummed it into her sons that other people working to keep you or yours was wrong – that was for the ponces of the world. The dole was there to see you over a bad patch, until you could find another job – it was never meant to be a way of life. Theresa had been known to have three or four jobs at a time to make ends meet.