She licked her lips slowly, an unconsciously erotic act. ‘No you’re not, Alan. To you I’m a stuck-up cow and I know it. Well, let me tell you something - I’m glad I am. I’m over the moon, because I know deep inside that whatever I may be involved in now, it’s for one reason and one reason only. My Georgio. I didn’t choose any of this, it was thrust on to me. What’s your excuse for the way you’ve lived your life? A murderer, a self-confessed murderer. My God, you people are laughable. Don’t tell me about poverty, I know all about it! People like you shove it down my throat all the time. Well, here’s another little gem for you to put in your pipe, Mr Cox. People make slums, not houses. Remember that when next you step up a flight of stairs on one of your council estates and encounter filth, condoms and urine. You didn’t have to be a villain, you chose to be one. Not every poor boy becomes a gangster or a robber. It’s a choice you make. So keep all your bleeding heart stuff to yourself in future. It don’t wash with me.’

Alan felt a rush of rage again and swallowed it down like bile.

‘Your old man is no different to me, love, and don’t you forget it.’

Donna smiled, her face rosy once more, complexion bright. She looked stunning in the morning light.

‘But I don’t love you, Mr Cox, and I happen to love my husband very much. No matter what he’s done. Now, are we going to Glasgow or are we staying here all day?’

Alan put the car in gear, aware that his hands were shaking. He felt an urge to put them round Donna Brunos’s throat and choke the living daylights out of her.

That was how she affected him. When he wasn’t yearning to kiss her, he wanted to kill her.

As they pulled away he sighed heavily. What a situation, and he was lumbered with her for a long time to come. He didn’t know if the prospect pleased or appalled him.

All he knew for sure was that her legs, sheathed in black stockings, were drawing him like a magnet; and her face, with its expertly applied make-up, was also drawing him to her; and her feisty personality was the icing on the cake. The more she fought back, the more he wanted her. The more she annoyed him, the more he wanted her.

That was the trouble: he wanted her so badly he could almost taste her. Could smell her scent close to him, and couldn’t stand it for much longer.

She was Georgio’s wife, a bit of class.

And he wanted her.