Recognition of this caused her a great deal of concern. Though Briony had fought for Ginelle, and now guaranteed her girls a much safer life, she still couldn’t rest easy in her bed. Not even with the reassuring presence of Tommy beside her. Because in her mind’s eye, in the dark, she once more saw Ginelle in the crate. Smelt the sticky blood. Saw the terrified face on the dead girl. Now there were other faces too. Bolger’s, Marcenello’s, Campbell’s and Ronnie Olds’. Ronnie holding his guts inside the gaping hole of his belly. As soon as this service was over, and Ginelle had been laid to rest, she was going to go round and see the bastard who was behind all the carnage, and the death. She forced herself to concentrate and began praying.

Tommy watched as her lips moved in silent prayer, not at all sure what exactly he was doing in this church, burying a working girl. He sighed heavily. Briony gave him a quick look out of the corner of her eye and, feeling ashamed, he tried valiantly to remember a prayer from his childhood. As he began his ‘Our Father’ he smiled to himself. Only Briony could get the new governor of the East End to a whore’s burial. But that’s what he had always loved about her: her dogged determination to do what she considered right and just.

He finished his prayer and hastily blessed himself, feeling a glow of righteousness go through him. Then, bored once more, he concentrated his thoughts on Henry Dumas, and contemplated the vicar who was saying nothing and taking far too bloody long about it.

Henry sat in his office and looked over a pile of papers. His secretary, Miss Barnes, a recent acquisition, stood nervously by waiting for his approval. Henry took his time, enjoying her discomfiture. He had no real need of a woman in his workplace, but it was now the done thing. She stood there in front of him in her long grey skirt, high button boots and a sensible white blouse, her brown hair tied at the back with a black velvet ribbon, her hands clasped demurely together. At least she didn’t smoke. He couldn’t abide seeing women smoke.

‘They’ll do, Miss Barnes.’ He held the papers out for her without looking up and the girl hastily took them and departed. Henry rested his elbows on his desk and glanced at the heavy mahogany clock on the wall. It was a quarter to five. He grinned to himself, contemplating the little girl waiting for him at a small house in Upney Lane. He decided to leave early and walk to his destination. It was only fifteen minutes from the dock offices. Nodding at Miss Barnes, he left the building.