‘I don’t fucking believe you! Why didn’t you offer to put him in your Christmas club? Five poxy grand down the crapper, and the old bastard had a gun! You’ve no right to countermand me like that, Briony, you was out of order.’

She smiled to herself. ‘Shall I tell you something, Tommy Lane. When I was a kid I hated having to pawn me mother’s wedding ring. I hated it. That “old bastard”, as you call him, never once made me feel like the dirt I was. He always called me Miss Cavanagh, as young as I was, and he always gave me a sweet.’

Tommy stopped at a junction and shouted to a barrow boy: ‘Oi, got any hearts and flowers on there?’

With a laugh, the boy watched him turn the corner.

‘Very funny, Tommy. Why don’t you do a turn at the club? I’ll tell you something now, for nothing. It hurt me seeing him brought so low. Even when he was on top-and he was, Tommy, he was the business as far as fucking gold was concerned - he still had the decency to treat me with a bit of respect. I owe him for that. After years of being treated like Irish shite, it was a welcome change!’

Tommy shook his head, and Briony watched him battle it out with himself. She knew exactly how he was feeling. She knew him better than she knew herself. Every mood swing, every nuance of his personality. He was fighting within himself now, because one half of him wanted to muller her where she sat, and the other half of him understood what she was saying, because being treated with respect was what they’d both fought so hard for. If you had money you automatically had that respect, even if only for the fact you were well heeled. To be treated with respect when you were no one, with nothing and no visible means of ever getting anything, counted for a lot.

‘So old Goldstern gave you a sweet, and because of that you let him get away with pulling a gun on me? It’s nice to know you care so much!’

‘Oh, balls! That gun was so old it was positively ancient, it would have backfired and killed him, not you!’

‘Oh, so now you’re a firearms expert as well?’

Briony started to laugh then, a rollicking boisterous sound. ‘Give it a rest, Tommy, you would have done the same.’

‘Yeah, maybe. But I didn’t get the chance, did I?’ This was said seriously and Briony kept her peace. He was five grand down, and she knew when she had pushed her luck to its extreme.