He pushed his face close to hers. She could see the tiny veins in his eyes and almost taste his breath as he bellowed. ‘You ever do that to me again, put yourself in the frame like that, and I’ll give you the biggest slap you’ve ever had in your life. Do you hear me?’

Briony took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke into his face.

‘Yes, Tommy. I can hear you, mate. The whole of Barking can hear you.’ She pushed him from her with a strength that surprised him. Standing, she pointed at him with the cigarette.

‘All I ever hear is you. You, me, I - sodding Tommy Lane! Well, for once I ain’t interested. I’ve got a bit more on my mind than your stupid fucking worries about saving face. As you just said we’re supposed to be a partnership so that gives me the right to do what I want, go where I want, and have a say in what I want too! That’s a partnership, boy. Not sitting home like a fucking wife while you run around being the hero!

‘And while you was ducking and diving tonight, running round like a blue-arsed fly, I went round and saw Ma and Da Campbell. It’s Dumas we want Tommy. Henry Dumas. Da Campbell saw him and Bolger having a meet and put two and two together. So why don’t you calm yourself down and use your head instead of your arse for once? Only I would be interested to know what the other half of this so-called partnership has to say about that?’

Even in her grief she was secretly pleased to see Tommy deflated by her words.

He was shaken and disturbed.

‘Dumas?’ His voice was low, incredulous.

‘The very one.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lit another, pulling the smoke into her lungs with a ferocity that stunned him. ‘I want him. I want that bastard once and for all. I don’t care if he has got a father-in-law who’s a fucking lord, I couldn’t care less if he is the Prime Minister or fucking King Street Charlie, I want that bastard cut!’

‘Oh, Briony, come here, love...’

She screwed up her eyes and clenched her fists, her whole body tense.

‘Don’t try and make it right with me, Tommy, please. I don’t want a cuddle or kind words, they don’t mean nothing. I want that bastard prostrate in front of me. I want to pay him back for me, for my emptiness, for Ginelle, and most of all for daring to try and tuck me up.’