A grid went up and looking through he saw Stella, an old professional at the peepshow game, gyrating around on a stool. She was tall, thin, and wearing nothing but a small G-string. Satisfied that she was doing her job, he opened the money box with a key and emptied out the fifty pences into a bag he kept in his pocket.

The smell was disgusting and as he locked the money box once more, he walked out, crying at the top of his voice, ‘Sid, wash this fucking place down. It smells like a Turkish wrestler’s jockstrap!’

Sid, an old man in his seventies, wheezed towards him, smiling, with mop and bucket.

‘I’m going as fast as I can, Henry. It’s been really busy today.’

Henry laughed. ‘Don’t give me that, Siddy, you dirty old git. If you spent as much time washing the booths as you did wanking in them, we’d have a clean bill of health in no time. Now this is your last warning, old man. Keep the booths clean, right, or you’re out!’

Siddy pulled out the mop and washed over the small wooden seat in the booth, then he mopped the floor. Unlike Henry, the smell didn’t bother him. He had lived with that smell day and night for nearly thirty-five years.

Wiping his shoes with a clean white handkerchief, Henry’s eyes widened in amazement as he saw a small striking-looking woman standing in the doorway. Turning on all his oily charm he said in his best imitation of Bob Hoskins, ‘Can I help you, love?’

Donna looked at the small man’s white teeth and Armani suit and smiled widely.

‘Henry Pratt, I presume?’

He grinned again and said, ‘Well, I ain’t Doctor fucking Livingstone, love. What are you after?’

Donna walked towards him and said gently, ‘I am after you actually. I’m Donna Brunos. Stephen asked me to keep an eye on things while he’s on vacation.’ Henry liked the vacation part of her answer, to him it spoke of sophistication and poise, but he still didn’t trust her. Henry didn’t trust his own mother; it was inbred in him not to trust anyone.

‘Well, he never said nothing to me, love.’

Donna forced her smile to remain in place as she answered him. ‘As I own twenty-five percent of this business I don’t think he need tell you anything, Mr Pratt. Now I want a drink and a looksee and then I’ll tell you what I’m here for, shall I?’

Henry wiped his tongue around his teeth and then shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, but I need proof of who you are, darling. I can’t let any Tom, Dick or Harry mooch around the place. You could be Old Bill, darling, though you ain’t got their usual smell if you’ll excuse the personal remark.’