‘Why?’
‘Because I have brought the people I love into harm’s way and I can’t do that any more.’
‘Why don’t you just phone her back then, and tell her you were only joking?’
‘Fuck that!’ said Jack Delaney.
And kissed her.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks, as ever, to the stalwart team at Random House for their continuing faith in the recovering Irishman, Jack Delaney. Paul Sidey, Paulette Hearn, Caroline Gascoigne, the brilliant design and sales teams, and especially Susan Sandon, who let me have extra time to deliver the book so I could work on another little project!
Muchos Gracios to the Marchioness of Camden, Lucy Dundas, who read the book first and was kind about it, and to the Uber-agent Robert Caskie, for continuing to be a thoroughly good egg and friend, and everyone at PFD!
Special mention to Irish John for his continuing advice in Cork based matters, and … also of Ireland.
It’s been a busy year, and Lynn has been brilliant, as usual, in keeping my feet on the ground, my nose to the grindstone, my powder dry and my chin up. She has been less than successful, however, in stopping me from mixing my metaphors.
Parts of London in the book are real and some are imaginary. As I write this, some areas of the capital city are in flames and turmoil as rioting spreads. DI Delaney bangs on about London continually, but deep down he loves the place, as do I. In Private London, Dan Carter says London is the best city in the world, and I can’t help but feel Jack Delaney would agree with him — not that they will ever meet — and would wish that by publication of this story some peace has returned to the streets.
And thanks, finally, to the most important person of all — you the reader, without whom JD would just be a very nice thing to drink with ice and crushed mint!
Slainte!
MP
August 2011