‘What is it?’ he asked. She stood up. ‘Someone’s accusing Sheridans of funding the IRA,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got to go to HQ. Look, you go on down to Layton House. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ ‘Well do you want me to come to HQ with you?’ ‘No. Just go down to Abbott’s Leigh Robin. I can cope on my own. I’m not helpless you know.’ Alex drove at speed across London, wondering what the hell she was going to face. She’d been a child when all this was going on, but she’d never known her father to express any sympathies with the IRA. Just because they were of Irish descent and Catholic, it didn’t make them terrorists. She kept thinking of Jack’s words of warning - that someone was conspiring against Sheridans. As much as she hated the thought of it, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. She so wanted to call Jack; he was so good in a crisis and would know what to say. But since that night when they’d kissed in the hotel room in Hove, things had become awkward between them.
