Eileen smiled at him tremulously, and he smiled back. Her tiny waist was emphasised by her ivory satin wedding gown, and he told himself that soon she’d be sporting a belly full of arms and legs. He couldn’t wait to start the ball rolling. Tonight couldn’t come quick enough for him. He’d drive her hard, by Christ, because after all, she was his wife, wasn’t she? And a man was allowed to be a man in his own home, surely?

Eileen and Joshua were in their small terraced house in Bow. It had been presented to them a week earlier by Briony and now Eileen stared around her in wonder. It was hers entirely. In her name, in fact. She didn’t even have to pay rent.

She had been all for refusing the place, her horror of how Briony accumulated her money still fresh. But Joshua had said it would be churlish to refuse such a magnificent gift, so she had acquiesced. Now she stood in the kitchen, with the freshly leaded range and the smell of lavender polish and coal, and gazed about her in wonder. It was fully equipped, she didn’t even have to supply a tablecloth or a tea towel. Everything was already there.

Joshua put his arm around her waist and she pulled away from him as if she’d been burnt.

‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’

Joshua smiled. ‘It’s not tea I want, Eileen love. You just get yourself upstairs and get into bed. I’ll sit here for a while and have a smoke. I’ll be up soon.’

The words were heavy with emphasis and innuendo and Eileen licked dry lips and nodded.

Upstairs she stared around her at the bedroom. The bed looked very big all of a sudden, and the lights from outside seemed to give the room shadows and dark corners previously unnoticed. She didn’t want to turn on the light though, the thought of Joshua seeing her in the light frightened her. She sat on the bed and bit her lip. Unsure now why she had been so keen to get married. She liked the thought of having her own home, and cooking meals and looking after children, but that was all daytime stuff. She had not allowed herself to think of the nights. They were like her times with Henry Dumas, to be pushed into the furthest recesses of her mind. Only now, here she was married, and the night was here, black and ominous and threatening to go on forever.