If Paolo remotely thought he could close Mary Flaherty and the subject down, he was mighty wrong.
“Well let me ask yer this den... did me son tell you about me bastard cheatin’ husband buying that tart of yours a feckin’ great diamond?”
Oh shit! She knows. How can she? Paolo was completely thrown. What could he say?
“She’s not my tart!” he said to buy a second or two of time to think.
“...and I don’t know anything about any diamond. I haven’t seen Nicole or Conor for a year or so. So how on earth would I know?”