She laughed delightedly. ‘Up yours, Jackson. You have more chance of getting a dose off the Bishop of Durham than you’ve got of ever getting back in this house again. Now piss off before I call the Old Bill.’

‘If you don’t open this door, I swear to Christ I’ll kick it in.’

She pulled her dressing gown tightly around her breasts. ‘Kick away, you prat, and I’ll have you arrested. Go on, kick the door in. I have enough on you to put you away till doomsday, mate.’

Davey could hear the taunting in her voice and he closed his eyes in distress.

‘Listen, Carol love,’ his voice was calmer, sweeter now, ‘I want a few bits from the house. Just a few bits, that’s all.’

Carol was wary. ‘Such as?’

‘There’s some keys in the bedroom, up on top of the wardrobe. I need them, Carol, they’re important.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve already got rid of them, Davey.’

‘You what!’ His voice was incredulous.

‘I gave them to Big Paddy. Why - didn’t he give them to you?’

Davey wiped his hand across his face.

‘Tell me you’re fucking joking, Carol. If you’ve really given them keys to Big Paddy, I’ll break your fucking neck!’

Carol’s laugh came through the door, maddening him.

‘You’ll have to catch me first, Jackson, and I have a feeling I know a little too much about you to worry about you hurting me. So do Donna Brunos and old Dolly. Enjoy threatening her, did you, with Paddy? Oh, he was as pleased as punch when I gave him the keys, Davey, over the fucking moon he was.’

She watched him storm down the pathway and slam the gate behind him. A part of her wanted to open the door and call him back; the other half of her saw the books her husband had peddled, had conned her into peddling, and her heart hardened.

Running up the stairs, she placed her hand on top of the wardrobe and felt around for the keys she hadn’t known were there until her husband mentioned them.

Looking at them, she realised she had the keys to the lock-ups in her hands. That’s where the merchandise would be stored and that’s what he wanted. She weighed the keys, moving her arm up and down, juggling them. Trying to decide what to do with them.

Dressing quickly, she left the house, with no make-up, no backcombed hair, no nothing.