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eyes rapidly to try and clear her head, Sarah said, ‘Come inside and I’ll go and look.’
    The two men walked into the hallway. She went upstairs and looked into Michael’s room. The bed hadn’t been slept in. As she walked back on to the landing, Geoffrey came out of his room.
    ‘Who’s that downstairs, Mum?’
    ‘The old Bill. They’re looking for Michael. What’s going on?’ She knew her sons and would bet her last pound that Geoffrey had been awake waiting for something like this.
    ‘You go back to bed, Mum. I’ll sort out the filth.’ Both turned as they heard a door opening. Maura Ryan came out of her room, clutching a raggy doll. Sarah went to her, picking her up in her arms. Geoffrey went down the stairs.
    ‘Mickey ain’t in.’ ‘Well, where is he then?’ This from the older of the policemen.
    ‘He’s up West. At a house in Knightsbridge. What do you want him for?’ Geoffrey yawned in their faces, scratching his belly lazily. The younger policeman noticed that his pyjamas were hardly creased. Geoffrey Ryan hadn’t been in bed. The trouble would be proving it. .
    ‘Somebody tried to murder Joe the Fish earlier.’
    Geoffrey felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. ‘What do you mean, tried to murder him?’
    ‘Exactly what I say. And knowing how close Mickey is to him, I thought we had better let him know.’ The older officer was trying to goad him.
    Unlike Anthony, Geoffrey could keep a lid on his temper. Deliberately misconstruing the policeman’s words, he shook his head sadly and said, ‘Mickey’s like a son to that man. This will come as a great shock to him. What exactly happened?’ He had to know what was going on. Half of his mind was saying silent prayers. He’d been sure Joe was dead when they left him. ‘Someone tried to run him over a few hours ago. He’s fighting for his life in St Charles’s Hospital. The hospital said to try and get his next-of-kin. We assumed that was Michael Ryan. Two men couldn’t get any closer than those two have been over the last couple of years, could they?’ The policeman raised his eyebrows and his colleague laughed.
    Geoffrey was saved from answering by his mother’s voice. She had been carrying Maura down the stairs and had heard the policeman’s remark.
    ‘What are you trying to say? I know you lot with your dirty insinuendos.’ She hitched her daughter up on to her shoulder, holding her steady with her free hand. The other was gripping the banister rail, her knuckles white and
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    bony. ‘My Michael is a decent clean-living individual. Now I’ll thank you two to get out of my house.’
    Hiding a grin, Geoffrey took the heavy child from her as she came to the bottom of the stairs. Maura sat in his arms, an alert expression on her face. At seven she was already wise to the likes of the police. Sarah pushed angrily at the two policemen. She looked so tiny beside the two men, yet so ferocious, that Geoffrey laughed out loud.
    ‘That’s it, Muvver. Tell the bastards to sling their hooks.’
    Opening the front door, Sarah let the men out. She was fuming. How dare they say that of her Michael! Her temper was caused by the fact that she had a terrible suspicion that what they said was true. Slamming the door on them, she turned her anger on her son.
    ‘Well, don’t stand there like a gormless eejit! Go and get dressed and find Mickey!’
    Placing Maura carefully on the floor, Geoffrey ran up the stairs. Maura followed her mother into the kitchen, curling up on one of the easy chairs by the fire.
    ‘Can I have a standing up egg, Mum?’
    Sarah nodded. ‘Of course you can have a boiled egg if. that’s what you want.’
    She filled the kettle, her mind racing. If Joe the Fish died then it would be a murder charge for somebody. But who? Michael? She pushed the thought from her head. Whatever she thought about her boys, there was one thing she knew: they were not murderers. They were just tearaways.