She covered up the mouthpiece so he wouldn’t hear her seething. ‘Fine, I’ll go, but –’

‘Don’t start yapping, Joy. Get on with it.’

‘How much longer do I have to keep on doing this? I’m running out of hiding places.’

‘You’ll think of something, clever girl like you.’

She could tell that he was sneering as he said it. His normal voice was never so alive. ‘Don’t I even get to know what’s in them?’

‘No chance.’

‘Why not? I’ve a right to –’

‘Put the phone down, Joyce, before I lose my rag with you.’

And she was just about to press the hook, as biddable as ever, when she felt a nick of anger at herself. How had she allowed all this to happen? She’d sworn she wouldn’t let Mal Duggan back into her life, now here she was again, the stupid donkey that went trudging forward every time he whipped the birch. ‘Listen, I’m not going to cry about some drunk old man who hated me,’ she said, before the instinct left her. ‘But he must’ve meant something to someone out there, mustn’t he, and it’s not right he’s come to harm.’ There was a faint hiss on the line, though it was still connected. ‘If he’s gone for good, you’d better say so. I can’t keep this up much longer. I’m a nervous wreck.’

‘You’ll keep it up all right,’ he said, ‘because you know what happens otherwise.’

‘I’ve done everything you wanted, haven’t I?’

‘So far. I’m not finished with you yet.’

‘But why’d you have to go and hurt him? It was nothing that I couldn’t handle.’ A lorry with a trailer was approaching the main road. She watched it pass beyond her shoulder, vanish down the lane.

‘Listen how you’re talking to me,’ Mal said, biting every word. ‘That’s why. You’ve been in the clink so long your head’s turned funny. Don’t go thinking you and me are square already. I’m the one who’s making the decisions. You just let that old man be your warning.’

‘Yeah, but, Mal –’

‘No ifs or buts about it, girl. It’s me you work for – not those two up in that house.’

‘I know, I know.’ She let it drop. Resistance had the same stink as disloyalty the longer it went on, and Mal could always sniff it on her – surely it would carry down the wires. Next thing, she’d be walking up the street and feel a hard tap on her shoulder, and he’d be there leering at her with his bloodshot eyes and cracking his fat knuckles.

It was just as well she hadn’t needled him again, because he said, ‘He saw you with that parcel, didn’t he? The fella had to go. It’s done with now. He won’t be sniffing round again. And if you didn’t want him hurt, you should’ve kept it to yourself. Your fault, not mine.’

She couldn’t answer him, at first – the words snagged in her gullet.