Georgio was stunned. The boy was as good as dead, or at least in for a serious injury. Georgio could not find it in his heart to feel any compassion. Most of the men on the wing had children or nieces and nephews. Even the gays hated nonces. Paedophiles were the scum of the earth in this place and that was how it should be. No one had any time for the ‘social worker syndrome’; the argument that these men had been abused themselves as children. A lot of the cons came from bad homes where they’d been abused, beaten, whatever. But they worshipped their children like gods. Could not understand a mentality that said, forgive them. Even the devout Catholics couldn’t find an ounce of mercy for them.

Everyone was of the same opinion: get rid of them. Get them on the hospital wing and out of this environment. The murderer of a man in a fight was given his due; a man who murdered a girl down a lonely lane or whatever was given grief. It was how the prison set-up worked and the screws accepted this, even agreed with it. They must have been hard-pushed to put Broomfield on A Wing.

Georgio put the nonsense and his troubles out of his mind. He wasn’t worth the energy or the time.

He walked slowly to the recreation room, which was nearly empty, and sat at a small table shuffling a pack of cards aimlessly, trying to work out what to write to Donna to make her come round to his way of thinking.

He had to get out - and she was the one person no one would ever suspect of helping him. He had already decided how it was to be done. All he needed was her co-operation and he would be home and dry.

Samuel Broomfield walked into the room and smiled at Georgio, who dropped his eyes quickly, observing the boy surreptitiously as he flicked through the TV screen until he found a children’s programme. Georgio watched Broomfield watch the children, who were running round a TV studio playing a game.

Three hours of heavy traffic later, Donna pulled up outside the high-rise block of flats in East Ham.

‘Got time to come up for a quick coffee, Donna?’

‘OK then.’ She helped Caroline and the children from the car. Locking up, she followed them inside the building.

The entrance hall was full of litter, old newspapers, Coke cans and circulars. As the lift doors opened she was assailed with the stench of urine, human as well as canine.

On the seventh floor they disembarked, all giving a hearty sigh of relief and taking in a deep gulp of air. Donna was surprised to see Caroline unlock two mortice locks as well as a Chubb lock on the front door. It was dark in the lobby. Walking into the flat, Caroline turned on the hallway light.