His wonderful grandson’s murder had left Terry stunned and heartbroken. He’d fucking loved that kid, idolised every hair on his little head.Purgatory would be the best way to describe the six weeks since Luke had died. Terry’s daughter Sally had been distraught, in absolute bits and, even though she was pregnant, had hit the bottle big style.‘You’re gonna be burying another baby if you carry on like that,’ Terry had warned her only yesterday.‘I’m so unhappy living here. I need to move back in with Jed. Please say I can, Dad. You can’t keep me away from him for ever. I love him.’Sick of watching Sally necking the wine night after night, Terry had reluctantly agreed that she could move back in with her no-good, pikey arsehole of a boyfriend. When Luke had first been murdered, Terry had turned up at the O’Haras’ and ordered Sally to return home so she was safe and they could grieve and cry together. Terry had hoped that she would leave Jed for good, especially when she learned from the police that Frankie was also pregnant in the nick with the toerag’s child, but it wasn’t to be.
