Sadie watched him walk past her cell and pushed her face into the pillow to stem her breathing. She had half-loved Georgio, trusted him through all her grief over Timmy, allowed him the use of her lipreading gift. Now she would be used by Lewis, and knowing him he would use her to the utmost. But she was willing to take that chance to get her own back on a man who could use children, use his wife, use everyone around him. Even Timmy had been used. Sadie would avoid Georgio like the plague this morning. She would stay in her cell and wait the day out. In the shower, Georgio was singing at the top of his voice. He soaped himself liberally and washed his hair, scrubbing himself hard, wanting to wash off the stink of the prison. A stink he would not have to put up with for much longer. He was even looking forward to his breakfast. After rinsing himself off, he put a clean dry towel around his waist and strolled into the toilet cubicles. At the far end was a cupboard used by the prisoners who cleaned the floors. Opening it, the stench of urine and faeces hit him, making his eyes water. He smiled, and using a piece of wood, stirred the contents of the black bucket, grinning as he pictured the contents hitting the Governor full in the face.

Closing the door, he strolled back towards his cell, smiling a greeting here and there. Young Benjy was standing outside his door and Georgio hailed him heartily.

‘Fuck off, Brunos, I ain’t in no mood for you!’ Georgio watched him, a smile on his face as the boy stalked away. ‘Who rattled his cage then?’

Ricky stuck his head out of his own cell and said in a low voice, ‘Who knows, Brunos? Maybe it was you.’

Georgio looked puzzled and Ricky smiled that smile of his again, showing immaculate teeth.

Georgio laughed. The day was his, there was nothing that could phase him. Not today, the day he jumped.

Whistling, he strode into his cell to dress before going for his breakfast.

Nick’s eyes were bright with malice as he spoke to Albie over a breakfast of coffee and doughnuts.

‘Can you believe it, eh? Georgio Brunos a beast. A seller of children. A beast in all ways. I hate the nonces, God knows I hate them, but it’s the beasts, the people who supply the filth, that I really hate. Remember when I found you, Albie? How I looked after you? Took you to the hospital, visited you, brought you back to live with me? How old was you then?’

Albie put up his hand, fingers outstretched, three times.

‘Fifteen, eh? Fifteen and abused and used. Hard to believe that in a country like this, a so-called democracy, there’s still that black economy, children for sale. Young men for sale, arses for sale!’