Peter and Ria arrived at the house as they were finishing their meal. Tania knew immediately that there was something radically wrong with her auntie. She stood up abruptly and went to her, and Ria put her arms around her niece, as she said in a broken voice, ‘My Petey, my boy. He was murdered last night. They shot him, they shot him dead. He was dumped in a skip in Walthamstow.’

Tania felt as if she was going to pass out; the news was so unexpected. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was relief; all she knew was that she couldn’t really take it in yet.

Petey was dead, and she was carrying his baby.

Petey was dead, and she would never have to face him ever again.

She was relieved. She could feel it washing over her in waves. Her secret was safe.

Daniel Bailey went to his brother and, hugging him gently, he said seriously, ‘I’m sorry, Pete, I’m so very sorry.’

And he was. They both knew the truth of that.

Epilogue

She got a compact mirror

Stole it off her mother

She got her daddy’s overnight travelling bag

Always been told ‘If you wanna leave home, honey,

You ain’t ever, ever welcome back’

And now she’s down at the station, baby in her belly

Alabama 3, ‘How Can I Protect You’
Album: Outlaw, 2005

Woke up this morning

Got herself a gun

Mama always said you’d be,

The Chosen One

You’re one in a million,

You’ve got to burn to shine . . .

Born under a bad sign

With a blue moon in your eyes . . .

Martina Cole & Larry Love, George & Dragon pub,
July 2012 (Lyrics changed to fit with the book!)

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Nine

2000

‘He’ll be all right with me. I ain’t in me dotage yet, for feck’s sake!’

Tania laughed; her nana was a real hardcase at times. ‘Imelda will be here soon. He’s staying the night at hers, but I need to get into work early – my dad’s expecting me.’

Theresa picked up her great-grandson; he was a beautiful child, and the apple of everyone’s eye, including her youngest son. Daniel took far more notice of this child than he had ever taken of his own squad that was for sure. Tania had named him Daniel – that would have pleased her mother. Lena, God rest her, would have adored him.

Theresa had been worried for a while that the child’s looks might give away his parentage, but he was blond and blue-eyed. All he had of his father was his build. At two, he was tall for his age and strong as an ox. He was already very independent, and whatever he decided he wanted he went after with a tenacity that belied his age.