Adele kept quiet. Since she had been inside she had learned about Peter’s burgeoning empire: the sunbed salons, the bookies and the nightclub. It still troubled her how he had been able to afford them in the first place. When she’d asked him he’d always been very vague, either tapping the side of his nose or telling her about having contacts and one thing leading to another.

Adele hadn’t pressed him for more information about where he got his money from although she suspected he’d obtained it through illegal dealings. Nothing she said would change him so what was the point in giving him grief? Instead she decided to keep quiet and try not to get too involved. Still, she hoped that now he was a businessman, he might have left his life of crime behind him.

They swept along the country lanes, soon arriving in Manchester. Adele gazed in wonder out of the car window, just as riveted by city life as she was by the Cheshire countryside. How things had changed in five years!

The cars were different; she spotted several models that hadn’t been around before she went inside. The buses looked different, too. Peter said it was because they now operated through private companies. And even the phone boxes were different. She thought back with nostalgia to the traditional red phone boxes of her youth. They had been replaced by steely grey and glass structures, and had a silly picture of a man with a bugle etched into the glass.

As she commented on things around her, Peter filled her in on what had been happening in the outside world, laughing at her naivety. Eventually they arrived at his apartment. Despite his success in the business world, that was one thing at least that hadn’t changed, or so she thought, until they got inside.

‘Bloody hell! It’s a bit plush, isn’t it?’ she asked, gazing around at the new furniture and trendy appliances.

Peter just smiled in response and she guessed that perhaps her ceaseless questions were starting to get on his nerves. He walked through to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Bollinger champagne. Then he popped the cork and poured each of them a drink.

‘Get that down you,’ he said, passing her a glass. ‘This is a celebration. You’re free, at last! And when you’ve drunk that you can get your glad rags on. I’m taking you for a slap-up meal and then me and you are gonna hit the town.’

‘But I’ve got nothing to wear,’ she said.