Terry tidied his hair with a large bony hand. ‘What a fucking nonsense he was! I tell you, Stephen, we get them all in here.’

The girl was sitting on the bed, her right eye swollen to three times its normal size, blood seeping from wounds to her eyebrow and lip.

‘What about me!’ Her voice was very young-sounding and trembling with shock and fear.

Terry looked at her as if he had forgotten about her, which he had.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what do I do?’

He checked her face over with a practised eye, careful not to touch the blood.

‘You’ll survive. Get yourself to the hospital. A couple of stitches will sort you out.’

Walking with Stephen back to the office, he said, ‘I’ll get a chippy in. We’ll be back in business in two hours. What a fucking nutter, eh?’

Ten minutes later Stephen pulled away from outside the club in his Mercedes.

The girl was trying frantically to get a black cab, but her attire, the location and the copious amounts of blood guaranteed no one would stop for her.

She was crying.

The men on the Wing were all still high with excitement. Celled up after their lunch, some took a nap while others read; most just got stoned. When Mr Borga began to count, every cell went quiet, waiting for the balloon to go up.

Mr Borga opened the small spyhole with his finger, looked inside and called out the cell number, then ‘present’. But only after he had seen for himself that the people in there were who they should be and were also definitely present.

As he came to Benjamin Dawes’s cell the men heard him shout: ‘Cell nineteen, present.’

Then his footsteps as he moved to cell twenty.

Then they listened to the blakeys on the bottom of his shoes tapping once more across the floor as he retraced his steps and lifted Benjamin Dawes’s spyhole again.

The balloon finally went up ten seconds later when Mr Borga said in a high, shocked, and disbelieving voice: ‘This cunt’s got a fucking three-piece suite in here!’

The whole Wing erupted into laughter.

They heard the door being opened and Benjamin’s voice bellowing, ‘I told you I had one earlier, that’s why I dinged out me bed.’

Georgio and Chopper were crying with laughter as they heard the exchange, as were all the men on the Wing, screws included.

Mr Borga’s voice, still full of disbelief, was heard shouting, ‘Don’t you dare try and tell me this was handed in on a visit, Dawes, or I’ll have you on a fucking charge! Where did you get it? Come on, I want to know.’

Benjamin, walking out of his cell so all the men would be able to hear his words, said in a contrite voice: ‘Remember when we used to have the drama classes?’

Mr Borga answered warily, ‘Yeah?’