Jonny bought properties for cash, and laundered the money by remortgaging them, not just in England but all over the world; it was like a licence to print legal dosh. He was also amazed at the amount of money to be made in whoring, because it was the whoring that had been the most lucrative of all his new ventures. The only real drawback was that he had no real control over the money and, if caught, the sentences were heavy. That was because the girls were there against their will and that often led to charges of white slavery – even though many of the girls were West African – and kidnapping. It was costing a fortune to grease the right palms but, thanks to his connections, they were pretty safe. At least as safe as those kind of deals can be. It was taking its toll though, and he knew that the happiness he should have been feeling from all he had achieved was not there.

The reason for this was his Celeste. Yes, she was better than she had been, but she was still scared of her own shadow. In fact, the only time she was remotely happy was when they were out in Spain. She loved their house in Majorca and she seemed to relax there. It was up in the mountains, and the greenery and the dramatic views seemed to calm her soul. Personally, he liked it for the first week and then felt he was going stir-crazy, but he knew she needed the time there.

They had not yet had children, though Celeste had suffered miscarriages, and they both said there was plenty of time, but he guessed that deep down she was frightened of it all. He wanted children, but he was in no hurry. And perhaps that was just as well because he couldn’t see how Celeste would cope with a baby. He loved her with all his heart, and he still cared for her, but now she was more like a sister. Although, in all honesty, that could be the result of the guilt he felt for what he was doing with her sister . . .