Standing by the grave in the pouring rain, Alfie Jennings felt the cold droplets running down his neck and inside his coat collar. He turned slowly to his friend Abel Gray, who until recently had been an unshakable force, a powerhouse amongst men. Wealthy and driven, a man at the top of his game. Selling and supplying weapons, Abel had been ruthless when it mattered, when he had to be, but at heart he was loyal and generous. But as Alfie looked at his face, drawn and haunted, he could see Abel now was nothing but a broken man.

‘Are you going to be all right, Abel? Cos I can stay if you like.’

‘I’ll be fine, Alfie, I’d rather be left on my own anyway, but I appreciate you coming.’ Abel paused as he reached out to touch the headstone gently. His voice hoarse, he added, ‘We both do.’

Alfie shrugged uncomfortably. He was the only one who had come; over the last few months, Abel through his trauma and sorrow had pushed everyone away who cared, but Alfie was determined Abel wouldn’t do that to him, no matter what he said, no matter what he did.

The two of them went back a long way, first business associates before becoming firm friends, so there’d been no question of him not making the trip to Abel’s isolated thirty-acre country home. The estate, which sat on top of a hill, was tucked away in the New Forest of southern Hampshire, and Abel had insisted the burial take place within the grounds. But it still cut Alfie up to see him like this. The once physically imposing presence, the once sharp mind, all felt like they were crumbling, fading away in front of his very eyes. Sighing, he gave his friend a sad smile.

‘I’ll get off then, but Abel, if you need me, you know where I am mate. It don’t matter what time of night or day it is, just call … And I’m sorry, truly I am. She was really special.’

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PROLOGUE Alcuni anni fa …

PROLOGUE

Alcuni anni fa …