‘I do know it. Yes,’ she said.

‘Takes you out to dinner and all sorts, don’t he?’

‘He does. Yes.’

Angel stood there, feeling awful. She hated the dinners out with Uncle Donny. Hated leaving her mother alone in the flat, rejected. But . . . also, she loved the dinners. The fine dining in the best restaurants. The fuss he made of her. Dressing up, looking nice. She’d never had anything like that before. Never. Then she thought of Donny’s wife, standing at her front door with her eyes full of fear and hate and suspicion, saying Are you one of his women?

And what would that make her, if she was? She’d felt strange when the wife had said that to her. Ashamed. But also sort of grown-up. Sort of proud. But that was wrong. It was so wrong.

85

Once again, Frank’s parole had been turned down. He couldn’t believe it. Sixteen years of his life, mouldering away in here. When Baxter Graves came in to see him, he found Frank in a foul mood, chewing his nails, dragging his hands through his hair. Twitching about. Feeling powerless. That cunting governor hated him. Those parole board tossers were going to get it when he got out, and . . .

‘You’re still keeping an eye on her? Like I told you?’ he spat out.

‘Sure, boss. Just like you told me.’ Baxter swallowed hard. Every fucking time, Frank said that. Baxter was a big man, a hard man, but Frank Pargeter in a tearing rage wasn’t a pretty sight. He’d already told Frank that Dora had taken up with a bent copper, and that she had a kid.

He’d kicked Dickie Cole’s kid out of her. Now she had another one, by this copper. She was a slag.

‘What did you say her kid was? A boy?’

Baxter shook his huge head. ‘Nah, boss. I told you. It’s a girl. Pretty little thing.’

‘So Dora’s bunked up with a copper, thinking that’ll keep her safe from Frank fucking Pargeter? Well she got a surprise coming, that bitch. Her and her kid. And her whole fucking family too. I don’t care if she’s bunked up with God Almighty. You keep tabs on her. She’s slippery, so watch it. Because when I get out of here, her arse is mine.’

Baxter shrugged. The way things were going, it didn’t look like Frank was ever going to get out of those gates. But he’d do as he was told. Frank was his boss. So he’d carry on watching Dora O’Brien and her bastard until the time came for Frank to finish the job.

86

Angel was out of school at last and scouting for jobs. She worked in a hairdressing salon for a while, sweeping up, washing hair, then she was laid off from that so went into the local supermarket and got a job on the cheese counter. After that, it was a cake shop half a mile away from her old school, so it wasn’t too surprising when Cousin Tommy came in one day and did a double-take to find her there behind the counter, wearing a pink overall and a stupid matching hat, dishing out pasties and egg and cress sandwiches and doughnuts.