I lie against his body, warm, overflowing, tearful with contentment.

* * *

My chance with Alec came in November, the week after Douglas and I moved house. The night I found Alec Kemp was also the first time I saw Jackie Flint and one of his other women.

‘Lisa!’ We heard Jackie hammering at the door. It was about eight o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Don was at the pub, Douglas, as usual, at a meeting. When Jackie came in from the darkness, panting, I started to wonder whether Kemp’s employees were selected purely on looks. She was lovely; a soft, rounded figure, long fair hair, big blue eyes and square, widely spaced teeth. In one hand she had a cigarette. Catching sight of me, she said, startled, ‘Oh, it’s you! I remember you from when Doris ’ad ’er babby.’

I had no recollection of her, but held out my hand to introduce myself. She ignored it, taking a puff on the cigarette. ‘ ’E’s ’ere again. Me sister just saw him – up Catherine Street. ’E’s after some kid at number twenty-eight. You’ll ’ave to get a move on. They won’t be stopping up there long.’

I was all of a dither, heart going like mad and suddenly no idea what I was doing.

‘Where do I go?’ I asked, breathlessly.

‘After ’im of course,’ Lisa said, poised as if to throw me bodily out of the door.

‘Round the back of Kemp’s,’ Jackie told me. I could tell she was enjoying this, being in the know, and the prospect of revenge. ‘That’s where ’e takes ’em. We’ll come with you.’

‘No!’ I was trying to pull on my coat, arm catching in the sleeve. ‘It’ll mean waiting around. I’ll need to be absolutely quiet.’

‘She’s right, you know,’ Lisa said. ‘Be like a cowing ’en ’ouse with us tagging along.’

‘Right,’ I said, trying to sound as if I had any idea what I was going to do. ‘I’ll be back later – I hope.’

‘Bring us ’is ’ead back!’ Lisa called.

‘Or summat else!’ Jackie shouted brazenly, and their ragged trail of laughter followed me out through the door into the smoky air.

I turned into Catherine Street and began to walk up the sloping brick pavement. I was so wound up that every sound – a dog barking, the slam of a front door – made me jump. There weren’t many people about and I certainly couldn’t see Alec Kemp. Nearing number 28, a house fronting on to the street near the top of the road, I stopped. I could hardly hang about here: I might run straight into them.

A short distance away was an entry to one of the back courts, so I slipped just inside and waited, moving from one foot to the other, unable to keep still for nerves.

It was a freezing night and very still, a half moon shining clear-edged in the sky. Children were playing out despite the cold. The entry was dark, smelled of urine, and the high walls muffled sounds so that I was constantly straining my ears to hear voices or footsteps.