‘I told you: import and export. The club. The bureau de change. Some of this, some of that. I got a finger in a lot of pies.’

Angel had to smile. ‘I think you’re a bit of a rascal.’

‘Rascal?’ Lenny grinned and leaned on the balustrade looking at her. The sea breeze tossed his mane of white-blond hair about around his suntanned face. ‘Well that sounds pretty harmless.’

Angel’s face grew serious. ‘You are, aren’t you? Harmless, I mean?’

Lenny put a hand to his heart. ‘I swear,’ he said. Then he reached out and stroked her cheek. ‘I’d never hurt you, darlin’. Never.’

Angel believed him. This time with him had been so massive a contrast to the misery of her normal life. She wanted it to go on and on.

But it couldn’t, could it? Sometime soon, they were going to have to go back to the world.

‘When are we going back?’ she asked.

‘What, to dear old Blighty?’ Lenny chewed his lip. ‘Do you miss it?’

‘No. I don’t. But all this . . . it isn’t real, is it?’

Lenny looked around the bay. ‘Looks real to me,’ he said.

For a long moment they were both silent, taking in the beauty of the place. Then Angel said: ‘Lenny?’

‘Yes, darlin’?’

‘I think I’m ready now. If you still want to.’

Angel’s first experience of sex had been hasty, painful and sadistic. Now, with Lenny, she discovered that it could be slow and tender, a gentle awakening. She was nervous, but he was gentle and patient, and afterwards he seemed pleased. Angel had nothing to measure this experience against. Only the abuse from Donny. She’d got no pleasure from that, and she got none from this. She supposed that, for a woman, that was pretty much normal.

Lenny lay back, his hands behind his head. He was grinning from ear to ear. Fuck her and forget her? How could he? Angel O’Brien had knocked him bandy.

114

Farmer was coming up against a dead end. To add to his frustration, the Super was saying, Leave it now, it’s not a priority, but Farmer was a terrier; he had trouble letting things go. And Hunter’s words were: Do what you can – discreetly, mind – but put it on the back burner. So in between attending to other cases, Farmer kept returning to the puzzle that was Donny Maguire.

Months had passed now, and no progress made. Still, he couldn’t abandon it. Maguire was one of their band of brothers and sisters, and although he might be an arsehole – and he was, Farmer was one of the younger men Maguire and his bent mates on the force had taken delight in bullying – Farmer felt that Maguire deserved ongoing efforts to find out what had happened to him, even if they led to a conclusion that Maguire himself would not desire.

Farmer was at his desk in the station, going through the files he’d requested from personnel. When Donny had joined the force, he’d been living in the East End, at his parents’ address. Farmer took note of that. Then after his marriage to Fiona, Donny had moved into their current home. Donny had been a so-so student in his youth, not exceptional, always ready to kick back and take it easy. Not above taking bribes, either. A bit of a lad. Doing just enough to get by. No exertion. But loyal to his family. Devoted, even. So he was a prick, yes; but he had his good points. Everyone did.