Henry watched her swagger out and grinned to himself. He had to hand it to Edna. She was one of the few toms he knew who could actually look after herself. She never touched hard drugs, just a bit of puff, and never drank alcohol while performing. In reality, he wished he had a few more like her, but Edna McVees were rare in the peeping game. Most were smacked out of their heads, otherwise they couldn’t do the job, and he admitted to himself that he would have to be in a fucking coma himself before he could do anything even remotely like it.

Whistling now, he left the office and went downstairs to the small bar area. The bar was illegal really, they had no licence, but as it was only for members he didn’t worry too much about it. The men and the occasional woman who used The Black Dog were after that little bit extra and he supplied it. Or tried to anyway.

The smoke hit him as he walked into the bar and he coughed slightly.

‘Put the fan on, Carrie, for fuck’s sake. What you trying to do, choke the fucking punters!’

Carrie laughed as she flicked the ancient switch to the ceiling fan and said loudly, ‘No, Henry, they pay to choke me normally!’

He laughed good-humouredly at the joke and his astute eyes roamed around the small cellar room. As usual it was filled with City gents, with the odd working man here and there. Early evening, which in Soho was until eleven o’clock, always saw the same clientèle. Men who had homes to go to, and wives and kids to see.

He walked through the bar and into another cellar room. Here were the brocade curtains that separated the small pallets that passed for beds. During the evening the beds, twenty-six in all, would be in full use over and over again. He smiled as he thought of the money and rubbed his hands together unconsciously. He wrinkled his nose at the sour smell and went back into the bar area, leaving the door open as a signal to the people working there that the night was beginning.

Immediately a man stood up with a transvestite boy of about sixteen and slipped through the open doorway.

Carrie ticked a small X on a chalk board behind the counter. The evening was on its way and she knew that she had to keep a keen eye out from now on. The number of workers who tried to slip one in without paying the house was getting ridiculous.

Whistling once more, Henry went back upstairs to the peep booths. He walked into a small booth and put his hanky up to his mouth to stop the smell of semen and sweat making him gag. Treading warily, so as not to ruin his good suede shoes, he popped a fifty-pence piece into the small opening before him.