DI JOSEPH RAFFERTY grasped his great-nephew in a tentative embrace and stared down at the new-born’s red face.
From where he sat, next to his sleeping niece, Gemma’s, hospital bed, the slant of the early morning sun across the baby’s head lit up what looked suspiciously like ginger hair. For all that the auburn-haired Rafferty thought: poor little blighter at this discovery, he was ridiculously pleased to see that, like him, Gemma’s baby had a dimple in his chin. He felt an instant, warm glow of kinship with this new soul; a glow immediately cooled by his sister Maggie’s teasing comment.
‘He looks a natural, doesn’t he, Ma? Maybe it’ll be your and Abra’s turn for parenthood next, Joe. Certainly, at your age, you don’t want to leave it much longer, or you’ll be getting your pension when t
