He sat behind his large leather-topped desk, picked up a fresh cigar, cut off the top, and then proceeded to place it in a large glass of beer. Donna watched him in amazement.

‘Give it a better taste, my love.’ He wiped off the excess beer with his fingers then lit the cigar slowly, completely unconscious of his actions. For some reason Donna felt as if she had witnessed something personal and erotic. She hastily lit herself a cigarette to overcome her shyness.

‘So what’s your proper name? Mine’s Alan as you probably know.’

‘It’s Donna, Donna Brunos.’

Alan smiled again, once more looking her over from head to foot. ‘How’s old Georgio getting on then? I heard he got the big one. He’s on the Island, ain’t he?’

Donna nodded. ‘It was Georgio who asked me to come and see you, Mr Cox.’

‘Well, I didn’t think it was Mother Theresa who asked you to drop in, love.’

Donna was saved from answering by Ricardo’s tap on the office door and his serving of the drinks.

When he had left them alone once more Alan said, ‘So, what does Georgio want?’

Donna watched him puffing on his cigar for a while before she answered.

‘Georgio asked me to tell you that he felt you owed him one. That’s his terminology, not mine.’

‘I’d never have guessed.’

She smiled at his quick retort. ‘He needs help, Mr Cox, which is why I’m here.’

‘I ain’t got a lot of sway inside, not now I’m out anyway. I can get him a few little bits and bobs like. No drugs though . . .’

Donna’s eyes widened. ‘I most certainly would not ask for anything like that, Mr Cox, and I am sure Georgio wouldn’t either.’

Alan grinned. ‘All right, all right, keep your hair on, love. I never meant any harm. A lot of people sell a bit of whizz or a bit of puff inside. It helps you to do your time, and gives you a modicum of prestige. A lot of lags wouldn’t touch it out here, but a long one, well, that puts a different complexion on it.’

Donna sighed in despair. This man was one of the most irritating people she had ever come across. He preempted all her moves and then proceeded to lecture her afterwards.

‘If you would let me finish, Mr Cox . . .’

Alan laughed. ‘Oh, am I getting on your nerves? My old mum used to say to me: “Alan, you could talk the hind legs off a table, my son!” ’ He roared with laughter at his own wit. ‘I lost her a year ago, bless her. I still miss the old bat.’

Donna smiled, while her insides twisted with nerves.

‘Anyway, love, you carry on and I’ll shut up.’