Frank Barber was pleased with himself. He liked that he had made his mark so quickly and so succinctly on the world he inhabited. He had done his time – and a fucking big lump at that – and he had done it with aplomb, even if he said it himself. He had put his head down and got on with it. He would like to see that scum Jack Johnson do the same, and do it as well as he had! He had made a place for himself as such and, when they had finally released him back into the wild, he had picked up the mantle once again. Now he was making up for lost time, taking back the nineteen years he had lost – and taking back his crown.

He saw Terry Cobb smiling at him as he entered the house in King’s Cross. This was another thing he was making up for – and the women were getting their fill of him all right. He smiled at the thought. He wouldn’t pay them either; he had never paid for a fuck in his life and he wasn’t starting at this late stage. They worked in his house so the very least they could do was fucking humour him. He was the main man after all.

The story was already going round that he wasn’t exactly nice to the girls, and that often upset the men who they worked for. This had been a good house until now, and the girls had been well looked after, first by the Carters, and then by Terry. They were wary and waiting to see how long the new bloke lasted, especially the younger girls, who seemed to be the preferred choice of Frank Barber. Young and childish was his taste; for them, it was like sleeping with their great-granddad. But he liked them to act as though he was the dog’s knob and they had no option but to play along. It was laughable, and when they were together that is exactly what the girls did: laugh at him. It was the only way they could cope.

They watched warily as he passed through towards the back rooms – the main workplace of the owner was always in the huge kitchens that had once been the domain of the servants. It was like a rabbit warren back there and the girls were not encouraged to visit unless expressly requested. That suited them down to the ground. It was also suiting Terry and his cohorts as they led the man straight through to his own slaughter.