‘All right then, Mum?’ asked Angel nervously.

‘You got some front, asking me that,’ said Dora.

‘What?’

‘You’ve been sleeping with him, aintcha. With Donny.’

Angel felt her insides churn with shame. She’d hoped Dora’d been out of it with the drink, enough to miss what had been happening. She opened her mouth to deny it, to say something, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lie. But she couldn’t bear the truth.

‘You’re going to say it didn’t happen? That I’ve been too rat-arsed to notice?’ Dora lurched to her feet and came up close to Angel, caught her arm in a tight grip. ‘Look at this, then,’ she said, and dragged Angel over to the bedroom door, which was standing open.

The covers on the bed were pulled back.

‘Look,’ said Dora, shaking Angel hard.

Angel looked. There was a smear of blood on the bed sheets. She felt a hot blush sweep up over her as she half-turned away and was confronted by her mother’s stricken face.

‘I love that man,’ said Dora, openly weeping now. ‘And you, you little slut, to do a thing like this . . .’

‘He made me,’ said Angel, which was the truth.

‘Fuck you and your lies,’ said Dora, and staggered back over to the couch and sat there, head in hands, her shoulders heaving with sobs.

Angel followed Dora over there. Sat down. ‘You said he’s punishing you,’ she said quietly. ‘What’s he punishing you for, Mum? What is it?’

Dora straightened, ran shaking hands over her wet face. ‘Like you care.’

‘Of course I care. I love you, Mum. I . . .’

‘More lies,’ sniffed Dora.

‘I don’t lie. I never would.’ Angel looked at her mother sitting hunched there, and then her eyes swept around the shambolic flat. The place reeked of dirt and despair, drink and ciggy smoke. Yeah, this was hell. And Donny was Satan, the ringmaster, the maker of all their woes. ‘What is it you did, Mum? What did you do that he has to torment you like this?’

Dora sat back. She looked exhausted. Played out. Then she started to speak.

‘When I was sixteen I was bridesmaid at my sister Lil’s wedding.’ She gulped, looked around.

Looking for the bottle, thought Angel.

‘Go on,’ said Angel.

‘Donny’s younger brother William had a crush on me. I was going out with a chap called Dickie Cole, and I said something about William being a nuisance . . .’ Dora looked at Angel through tear-filled eyes. ‘I didn’t mean it. I was just . . . full of myself, I suppose. Just flirting, saying I was so fucking desirable that I had all sorts after me.’

‘So what happened?’

‘Dickie did William over. Maybe he didn’t intend to do so much damage as he did, but anyway . . .’ Dora took a gulping breath . . . ‘the damage was bad. Really bad. William’s legs were broken up so much that there was no way to repair them. He was stuck in a wheelchair for life.’