She looked at him and he couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t acknowledge what he saw there: the pain and unhappiness. And the lust for revenge. She wanted revenge and he knew she would get it, with or without him. All the anger seemed to seep from his powerful frame in seconds. Compared to what she had suffered at that man’s hands, his own feelings were as nothing.

‘We’ll get him, girl. Between us we’ll get him, I promise you that.’

It was what she wanted to hear. The burden of her thoughts was lifted, shared now and taken on by Tommy. Walking to him, she let herself be pulled into his embrace. Over his shoulder she watched the cigarette smoke curling up in tendrils in the empty air and saw the faces of Ronnie Olds and Willy Bolger. Tomorrow Tommy and she would be the undisputed King and Queen of the East End, and the knowledge made her feel sad and bitter. It was a title she had never craved, wanting respectability through her clubs and money-making schemes. Now she would have to keep the title and fight for it, otherwise Dumas and people like him could get to her once more. Could try and force her back to the gutter she had crawled out of. Sometimes things were forced on you, and you had to bear the consequences. It was the story of her life.

Finally, after what seemed an age, she cried.

Benedict Dumas watched his father’s moustaches quivering as he sat in his chair reading his daily paper. He pushed his own food around his plate, unable to stomach the kidney and scrambled eggs. He liked a boiled egg and bread and butter, his father knew this, but forced the kidneys on him every morning and waited until he ate them.

‘What are you staring at, boy? Eat your food.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

Henry clenched his teeth in anger. Every time the boy called him ‘Papa’ he fought the urge to beat him. He had to acknowledge the child. His father-in-law doted on him, his wife adored him, even the blasted servants pandered to him. Henry hated the sight of him. Hated what he represented.

Banging his fist down on the table he shouted: ‘Eat your breakfast, boy!’

Isabel walked into the room with the mail and the atmosphere immediately lightened. Benedict smiled at his mama, and she kissed him on his cheek lightly.

‘Your grandpapa is coming today to take you to see the trains at Paddington. Then, I believe, he is taking you to the zoological gardens!’

‘Oh, Mama, how splendid! I’d better not eat too much breakfast as he always buys me an enormous lunch.’

Henry gritted his teeth and carried on with his pretence at reading the paper.