Not like Vida. She was a different proposition altogether. Vida was young, vibrant and beautiful. Tall, willowy and blonde, she had a mouth like a sewer and a mind to match. But she was exciting. She knew what he wanted and she supplied it. She was aware of his weaknesses and his strengths. She gave her body as Donna gave her love, without thought or care or even the smallest amount of embarrassment. She opened to him at any time, gave him thrills of pleasure and also peace of mind. He could mould her into what he wanted before she became like Carol Jackson, the clichéd villain’s bird, with heavy make-up, the regulation sexy clothes and the too-knowing mouth. He could turn Vida into a young Donna, into a woman. His woman. And Vida could have a child, she had already proved that. He saw himself living in a palatial villa in the sun with Vida beside him, strong and bronzed. Her willowy figure without clothes or inhibitions. That was the woman he wanted, deep in his guts.

But Donna pushed into his thoughts again. Donna and Alan Cox. He smiled. Alan’s idea of a woman was a prostitute like his Lally. Alan didn’t want commitment. He didn’t want to be tied. Georgio should have had more sense than to think Donna and Alan were getting it on together. In a rare moment of honesty, Georgio realised he was more upset at the thought of Alan fanning the flames in Donna. The flames he had never managed to light properly . . . not since the night the boy died. It was as if after that trauma, sex to Donna became only an act of love. He didn’t want sex with love, not all the time, he wanted to fuck her sometimes. All the time. He wanted her on her knees in front of him, abandoned, taking him into her for the pure joy of fucking. He was sickened by her constant declarations of love. Sex was ninety-nine percent in the head, not the body.

Sex to Georgio over the years had become visual; he liked to enact blue movie sequences with women, liked to see them enjoy themselves as much as he was. Not make love like Donna wanted, with the mattress under her back and words of love whispered constantly. Sex to Donna was a reassurance of his love for her. He had known that for a long time. He had climbed from his bed some mornings with a raging hard-on and had left her there, wanting him, because he enjoyed the power he had over her. Now, though, Donna had the power. The power to get him out, the power to get his money and the power to call the shots. Until he was out of here, that was. Once he was free he could do what he wanted, and he would. He needed Donna to get his money because she was the only person in the world he could really trust.