‘Piss off, Vince.’ This was said calmly, almost nicely, and Vince, never one to overstay his welcome, left the room in double quick time.

Boysie watched the man leave. He looked like a snotty-nosed ferret, made Boysie feel sick. Silversleeves, they called him behind his back. He was disliked, hated even, but he knew his scam and so for that reason the boys put up with him. He was a grass, but he was too frightened to grass them. He didn’t have the guts.

Mitchell, now, he was a different kettle of fish altogether. He had disappeared off the face of the earth after Rosalee’s funeral, which was just as well because for all the twins’ promises to their aunt about not touching him, they would have decapitated the ponce on sight, such was their temper with him. Well, they’d had a few scores to settle with him, and now they had a few more. With all the trouble and aggravation at home, and now this as well, Boysie was practically enjoying the thought of getting it all out of his system.

Limmington had spoken to Belling and was feeling on top of the world.

If what Belling said was true, they could nick the Cavanaghs this time good and proper. It was like a dream come true. Delia Dowling was unreliable in as much as she was a drug user, but she also knew better than anyone what her family was capable of. If she could be a credible witness... He savoured the thought to himself like a pools win. It was too good to be true.

The Cavanaghs had eluded him before, he knew they batted with the big boys. Well, even the big boys got their comeuppance. Eventually, they would make a mistake and he would be waiting for them.

A young PC walked into the room and smiled at him.

‘There’s a lady to see you, sir, rather old, small, says she wants to talk to you about something important.’

‘Who is she? Do I know her?’

‘I don’t think so, but she seems on the level. She reckons you’ll be interested in what she has to tell you. It’s about Briony Cavanagh. Her name is Heidi Thompkins.’

‘Send her in.’

Limmington had a feeling he was on to something interesting. Briony Cavanagh, the madam, the aunt and foster mother of the twins.

He watched in amazement as the woman walked into his office. The stench of poverty permeated the room. She was small and dressed in a collection of outlandish garments that had obviously been given to her at some kind of hostel. After smelling cider he guessed correctly that she was an Embankment maiden - the polite euphemism for the drunken women who slept under the arches. But the most surprising thing about her was her eyes. She blinked constantly. It made him feel dizzy to look at her.