Six months or so after the back garden shooting, I left my final meeting with DS Marks and his team from the anti-corruption squad. I wasn’t to face any charges arising from their investigations but would be called to give evidence should it be required. A total of eleven officers from various south London police stations and three members of staff from Cityside Investigations were currently on remand in prison awaiting trial for charges ranging from perverting the course of justice to conspiracy to murder. DS Marks was hopeful that McCoy and Peterson would get a minimum of twenty years each. Brendan’s document had proved to be the final nail in their coffin. Emily was not among those charged. I had accompanied her to both her police interviews and ensured that she offered ‘no comment’ to all questions. It was clear from the questions they asked that they had no knowledge of the couple of jobs she carried out on behalf of McCoy and Tommy.

To celebrate what felt like the end of this dongle nightmare, Emily suggested that myself, Grace, Lassoo and her all took a drive to Brighton for a day by the seaside. Inevitably we ended up sat on Emily’s favourite bench looking out over the grey-blue dishwater of the English Channel. We each had an ice-cream cornet made with the draught variety of ice cream that falls out of the machine on the pull of a lever. The sun was shining, the seagulls were arguing about immigration and the promenade smelt of hot pepper and sea-shell vapours. I was happy. I think we all were. Emily hadn’t mentioned Tommy or the shooting in the garden for a couple of months.

‘I’ve been speaking to my mum,’ she announced. ‘My father left the hotel to her in his will and he expressed the wish that I take over the running of it and Mum says she would be cool with that. It’s either his final attempt at a reconciliation or his final punishment from beyond the grave.’

‘Does that appeal to you?’ asked Grace. ‘It is very lovely down here. A lot nicer than bloody Peckham.’

‘Well, I do think I could make a go of the place – bring it up to date, attract some younger people, freshen the whole thing up. I’ve got a lot of ideas and it could be an amazing opportunity. I hardly get any pain from the operation now, and I reckon I’m ready for a challenge.’

‘You should do it,’ said Grace. ‘No doubt about it. Don’t even dwell on it; just say yes and start a new adventure. It’s like I’m always telling him, you only start living once you leave your comfort zone.’

‘Would you come and help me run the place?’ Emily asked me. I wanted to say yes immediately, but felt it best to fake some caution:

‘What about my job?’ I asked.