Donna smiled nervously at the man before her. Francis Pemberton talked to everyone as if they were his close friends or family. No topic was taboo, nothing shocking enough to be kept private. If it was in his head, it came out of his mouth. As simple as that.

Donna sat down opposite him and smiled once more. ‘I’m here because . . .’

Francis held up his hand. ‘Oh, I know why you’re here, love. You want me to extend your credit. Well, I told you the other day - no way. You’ve got more chance of having Princess Di to tea than you’ve got of me giving your old man another cent.’

Donna lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I thought you were a businessman, Mr Pemberton. I was under the impression you knew all there was to know about the building trade. If I can’t finish the work on my sites then I can’t pay you a cent, as you so nicely put it. In fact, I will come clean with you. If I don’t finish those houses then I am afraid my business will go to the wall. Now, I have been looking over old invoices and my husband has dealt with you for many years. Why are you being stubborn now? You always advanced him before.’

Francis took a deep drag on his impossibly large cigar and blew the offending smoke across the desk straight into Donna’s face. ‘You just hit the nail on the proverbial head, love. I dealt with your husband, Georgio. Now I know you’re a nice little lady and all that, but at the end of the day, love, you’re a bird, a woman, and women don’t run building sites.’

‘This one does.’ Donna’s voice came out curt and clipped.

Francis Pemberton laughed out loud at her audacity.

‘In fact,’ she went on, ‘with the help of Big Paddy Donovon I run the sites every bit as well as Georgio did. I see my husband regularly and he still has a large input into the businesses. All of them. I didn’t think you were the kind of man to spout sexist tripe, Mr Pemberton. You’ve always seemed rather intelligent to me.’

‘Oh, I have, have I?’ Francis’ voice was barely audible.