‘All right, all right, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I’ll sort it, OK?’

‘Good.’

‘I’m sorry about your Mandy, Pat, heart sorry. We all are.’ Her voice was soft now. She had been working for, and fighting with, Patrick Kelly for years. He was a good boss. Fair but hard. His daughter had been his life. Everyone knew that.

He dropped his eyes.

‘Thanks, Vi.’

‘Right then, face ache, I’d better go and give my little friend the bad news.’ Her voice was once more loud and aggressive.

‘You do that, girl, and once she’s got her certificate, she can work her little arse off.’

‘I’ll get her a bent one off Vinny Marcenello.’

‘You get it where you like, love, but she don’t work till she’s got it. I mean that, Vi.’

‘I know that, don’t I!’ Her voice was shrill again. She walked from the office.

Kelly carried on looking over the books but his heart wasn’t in it. Finally he got up from his desk and walked out into the foyer of the massage parlour. All around the walls were plushly upholstered seats. Girls and women of every colour, creed, shape and size were sprawled all over them. They all sat up straight as Patrick walked among them.

He nodded at them absentmindedly. Then turning to the left he walked through a door to the back of the parlour. That was where the cubicles were. He walked silently along the thickly carpeted floor until he came to the last cubicle. He listened.

A childish voice wafted from behind the thin curtain.

‘Do you require any extras, sir?’

‘How much will it rush me?’

‘Well, hand relief is fifteen quid, a blow job’s twenty, and the full bifta is forty-five quid.’

Patrick heard the man laugh.

‘Gis the full bifta, girl.’

Patrick shook his head and turned to walk back to the foyer. For some reason the childish voice had upset him. He knew the girl. She was only seventeen and looked about twelve. She was blonde, like his Mandy, except unlike Mandy she had never had a chance in life. He walked out of the tiny corridor, through the foyer and out to his car.

Don’t start getting soft now, boy, he told himself. Tomming is the oldest profession in the world. If they didn’t work for you they’d only work for someone else.

He climbed into the back of his Rolls and tapped on the window. Willy’s voice came over the intercom.

‘Where to, Pat?’

‘Forest Gate this time. I want to see how Juliet’s getting on.’

The car purred away and Kelly relaxed in his seat.

Yet the childish voice was still repeating in his head.

‘Stop the car!’

‘Do what?’ The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Patrick Kelly jumped out and ran back into the massage parlour.

‘Oi, Vi. In the office quick sharp.’

Violet followed him in.

‘Yeah? What?’ Her voice was belligerent once more.