Cherie nodded happily. She loved it here; she was the centre of attention from the minute she opened her eyes until she fell asleep. For a child like Cherie that was heady stuff, and Cynthia indulged her shamelessly.

‘Go on, get yourself away. I’m sure that man of yours is champing at the bit to see you.’

‘He is, he always is.’

Gabby left the flat and walked to her car. As she unlocked it, she saw her brother standing at the corner of her mother’s road, and felt troubled. After all, her Cherie was in the flat with her, and she didn’t want James going there and causing trouble in front of her.

She drove to the corner and, stopping beside her brother, she said, ‘What you doing here, James?’

He smiled absently at his sister, then he said, ‘I hear your Vincent is doing well for himself.’

She ignored him and said again, ‘What are you doing here, James? You know Mum doesn’t want to see you.’

He shrugged and she saw how emaciated he had become. Vincent had heard he was an addict and, seeing him now, she believed it. He looked thin, drawn, and very run down. The weather was just turning cold and all he had on was a thin jacket over an even thinner T-shirt.

She looked into his face and was heart-sorry for the way his life had turned out. If he had not been her brother she certainly wouldn’t have approached him. If she was honest, she had avoided him like the plague since he had been back on the scene. She had seen him from a distance a few times, and she had driven past him without stopping to even say hello. He made her nervous; anyone looking into his eyes could see that he was not quite right. He could easily be mistaken for a rapist, or a serial killer from a film. He was dirty, unkempt, and basically just odd. The trouble with James was that he was literally capable of anything, and she had to make sure he wasn’t going near her mother’s house while her daughter was there.

‘My baby’s in that flat, my Cherie, and if Vince finds out you’ve been near there, or that you scared her . . .’ She left the sentence unfinished and she saw her brother’s eyes widen. ‘You are taking your medication, aren’t you, James?’

The question threw him, and she could see it had also annoyed him.

‘Are you?’ she repeated.

He shuffled his feet for a few seconds, unable to meet her eyes. ‘What do you care?’

She sighed then, a sad, drawn-out sigh. ‘You’re still my brother, James . . .’

He didn’t answer her so she tried again.

‘Where are you living? Locally?’

He shrugged. ‘Why the interest suddenly?’

Gabby could smell the foetid breath of the junkie and she felt her stomach heave.