He saw her as she had been on their wedding day, belly nearly down to her knees but her face alight with happiness. For over twenty years she had stood beside him. He knew that if she had even an inkling as to what he was involved in, really involved in, she would be disgusted. As he was disgusted. And for the first time ever, he wondered what he would do if he lost her. Really lost her. For so long she had wanted him, had made all the running. All their married life he had been virtually single. She had been the married one for them both.

He wondered how he would feel if she wasn’t there, waiting for him to come home, waiting with his meals, waiting to listen to him. He wondered what it would be like to open a drawer and not find any clean underclothes, socks or shirts miraculously folded up there by his wife’s hands. He wondered how he would feel if he had to visit his children at weekends instead of playing the big-time father as and when it suited him. Normally Christmas and birthdays.

He wondered what Carol’s reaction would be to hearing what he was involved in from a third party.

But he knew the answer to that one. She would pick up the bread-knife and stab him through the heart.

Carol was a child-lover; she was decent in her own way. She would never countenance paedophiles or their merchandise. She thought that the floppy discs had grown women on them, and even then she hadn’t been too happy about it.

If she knew there were children on them, that the children were being abused to satisfy his greed and a pervert’s lust . . .

His eyes went to the bread-knife on the table again. Carol would be capable of murder.

But worse than the thought of her anger, was the thought of her contempt. Her complete disgust and hatred for him, because he knew that was exactly what she would feel. He felt that way himself.

It was Georgio again. He always went along with Georgio and Georgio had got him involved with talk of riches and all they could bring. The children would be used anyway, he’d maintained. Whether it was by them or by someone else. It was different out there, acceptable even. He had told Davey that in China the old men slept with young children because it was considered lucky. It was supposed to bring back their virility.

To Georgio it had all been one big joke, nothing to worry about, and Davey had believed him. As he’d always believed him. Georgio had smoothtalked him into it all, and now with every day that passed he felt the noose tightening around his neck. He was getting in deeper and deeper and didn’t know how to get out.

‘Have you seen anything of Donna, or heard from her?’ he asked quietly.