Georgie Ellis had never carried a firearm before. Charlie Riggs kept saying how it got easier with practice: ‘like golf’, he winked. She had ignored the innuendo. Why do men always fixate on sex? Riggsy seemed to think about nothing else, assumed he thought at all! And yet, there was something attractive about her DS, or at least his lifestyle: home at the weekend, putting up new kitchen units, playing for the village football team, Sunday lunch at the pub – him and the missus. No kids.

Kids! Tiggy would be at home now, stroking her bump, stuffing ever more Old Jamaica into her mouth, while Aethelred and Throthgar systematically destroyed the flat. Georgie Ellis could not be like her elder sister; never, ever. Thoughts of the green wellie life nauseated her. But Tiggy was flesh and blood: dea...

Please subscribe to keep reading.