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into quarters, and it still made her nervous,
even now, years afterwards.
    'Sure, Andrea, whatever you say. You don't
speak to me for God knows how many years—'
    'You haven't been here. You've been in Spain.'
    'You could have called,' he snapped. 'In all that
time, you could have fucking called. But you
didn't bother, did you? Because you didn't want
nothing then, but now you do, so it's' – and here
he did a nasty, high-pitched imitation of Andrea –
'please, Jimmy, help me find my daughter, some
nasty man's kidnapped her.' He chuckled again.
'It don't work like that, babe. I've got business
interests over here now. What do I want to come
back to a shithole like England for? Fuck that for a
game of soldiers.'
    Andrea sighed. She'd been expecting this, but it
still hurt to hear his complete lack of interest,
either in her or in Emma. But his reaction told her
something else too. Jimmy Galante, for all his
faults, wasn't involved in this. If he had been, he'd
have asked more questions.
    'I want you to help me, Jimmy,' said Andrea,
knowing that the sudden firmness in her tone was
born of desperation.
    'Sorry, babe, forget it. You still ain't given me a
good reason why I should.'
    'Because,' she answered, 'Emma isn't just my
daughter. She's yours too.'
    There was a long silence at the other end, and
then Jimmy started to say something, but Andrea
cut him off, pressing her advantage. 'Emma's
fourteen years old. Her birthday's April the
second. Think of the timing, Jimmy.'
    'I can't think that far back. It's been too long.'
    'Try. Fifteen years ago, the summer of 1992. We
were together, weren't we? That's when I got
pregnant. Just before you left.'
    'How the fuck do I know she's mine?' he
barked. 'You was married, Andrea. Remember?
You was the one shagging around behind your
old man's back. Or has that conveniently slipped
your mind now as well?'
    'Billy was impotent,' she said, not wanting to
speak ill of her dead husband, but knowing that
she had no choice. 'And you were the only man I
was sleeping with then. She's yours, Jimmy. Face
it. Your child. And now some bastard's taken her.'
    She could almost hear the cogs whirring as he
thought things over down the other end of the
phone. This time she left him to it.
    'What's happened then?' he asked eventually, a
tone of resignation in his voice.
    For the first time since the phone call more than
three hours earlier, Andrea experienced a tiny,
barely perceptible twinge of optimism. It seemed
like she might be getting Jimmy Galante onside,
which meant there was a chance she was no
longer facing this nightmare alone.
    Constantly mentioning Emma by name, and
keeping her voice as quiet as possible, she
detailed the evening's events, trying not to leave
anything out. When she was finished, Jimmy
asked her if she could raise the money in the time
she'd been given, and she told him that she reckoned
she could. 'It's not going to be easy, but I can
manage it,' she said.
    'And your new old man . . . he's missing?'
    'Yes,' she said slowly. 'He is.'
    'You certainly know how to pick 'em, don't you,
babe?'
    'Don't, Jimmy.'
    'Think he might be involved?'
    'To be honest, I can't see it, but . . .' She paused
a moment. 'But I can't say for sure.'
    'All right. What's his name?'
    'Pat Phelan.'
    'Don't know the name.'
    'He's from Finchley.'
    'I know a couple of people up that end of town.
I'll ask around. You haven't gone to the cops, then?'
    'No. And I don't intend to either.'
    'Good, no point involving those bastards. So,
what do you need me to do?'
    'I just need you here with me, OK? I'd feel
better. After all, you are her dad.'
    'I'd better be, Andrea,' he said ominously, his
voice barely more than a whisper. 'Because if I'm
not, and you've dragged me back under false
pretences, then I really ain't going to be very
happy at all. You understand what I mean?'
    There was no doubt at all what he meant. There
never was when Jimmy talked like that. 'Yeah, I
understand,' she answered. 'But you are.