Jack didn’t answer; instead he continued with the questions he needed to ask.

“Can you tell me about the time you lived at The Grange in 1995, please?”

Ester sat back again. “Fucking disaster waiting to happen. I mean, a murderess, a fraudster, a gunrunner, a druggie and a couple of whores trying to open a kids’ home! I assume you know everything about each of us already, so I doubt I’m telling tales. Julia and Gloria might have been looking for a new start to their shitty lives, I suppose. Connie and Kathleen were looking for someone else to make the decisions—useless bloody pair. I was looking to scam Dolly Rawlins out of her cash.”

Geoffrey entered with what looked like afternoon tea for two on a silver tray. He handed Jack a garish, flowery side plate with scalloped embossed edges and instructed him flirtatiously to help himself to anything he liked the look of. He then poured two cups of tea, handed Ester her plate and left the room.

“Delightful, isn’t he?” Ester grinned as she loaded her tiny side plate with three different types of cake. She ate with no regard for the fact that she was also talking. “He was one of my first customers at The Grange back in the eighties. He would only see me, which was very flattering. He’s supremely loyal. Thirty-odd years on and he still adores me.”

“This is his place?”

“Well, it sure as shit ain’t mine, is it, my darling? Have some cake, Jack—I’ve decided I’m going to call you Jack.”

“That’s fine,” Jack replied as he put his side plate down and sugared his tea.

“Geoffrey’s a Switch. Do you know what that is, Jack?” Again, Ester didn’t pause for a response. “It means that sometimes he likes to be the Dominant and sometimes he likes to be the Submissive. Clearly, he’s a Sub this week—which is the only time I get the housework and baking done, so you’re lucky there. If you’d popped round last week, you’d have found me shackled to the bed . . . You wouldn’t think it to look at him, would you?” And she filled her mouth with a pink square of Battenberg.

Jack hid his snigger in his cup, which made Ester laugh out loud.

“We can’t hide who we are, Jack. So why bother trying?”

“You said that Dolly Rawlins gave you cash?”

“She bought The Grange from me for £200,000, which was £100,000 less than it was worth, but it released me from some big debts and gave me the freedom to do what I wanted to do. Only problem was that I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I stayed at The Grange until I decided. I ate well, drank well, fucked Julia. And then, one day, four suits from the council rolled up unannounced to do a spot check. They wandered down to the basement and caught me and Julia going at it in the sauna—not the sort of image they had in mind for a kids’ home, so they pulled Dolly’s funding. She blamed me entirely and told me to get out.”