Kate grinned. ‘Oh, so you think that, do you?’

‘Mmm, I do actually.’ She kissed her mother’s cheek and stood up, looking very young and innocent in her long white nightie that seemed to hide the womanly curves.

‘I wouldn’t mind going out with him myself!’ She flounced from the room laughing. Kate laughed too, but uneasily. Knowing what she did about her daughter’s sex life the remark hurt. Not because of Patrick, but as yet another reminder of the fact that her daughter was more experienced than she was sexually. Kate forced the thought from her mind. Lizzy was nearly a grown woman and she had had problems - ones that Kate blamed herself for.

She admitted to herself that she would be glad, in a way, to see her off at the airport. She needed space from Lizzy, as much as Lizzy needed space from her. The thought made her sad.

She comforted herself. She was looking forward to waking up with Patrick in the mornings. But, more than anything, she was looking forward to spending the nights with him.

Larry Steinberg ushered Patrick into his office and the two men shook hands. He had been here once before. Larry Steinberg dealt with the law, the unacceptable face of it. He was also a fixer, and had taken care of some things for Patrick that he had thought beyond the fixing stage. Patrick did not like him, but he had a grudging respect for him. And to Patrick, in business, respect was often preferable to liking.

He had called on Larry to defend a couple of his repomen a few years earlier. They had gone round a man’s house to repossess his car and been met by a crowbar and a sawn-off shotgun. Not unusual in their game; people were often far from happy when repomen appeared. One of his men, however, had removed the crowbar from the punter’s hand and then buried it in his skull, leaving the man scarred, semi-paralysed, and suffering from epilepsy.

Larry had arranged for the Attempted Murder charge to be quashed and for a pretty stiff out-of-court settlement that had guaranteed a satisfactory outcome for all concerned. The sawn-off shotgun had mysteriously disappeared from the armoury of the Metropolitan Police and had since been used on two different robberies, but that was not Patrick’s business. One thing he knew for sure was that the man who had been hit with the crowbar was the man behind the robberies. He was a gas meter bandit gone big time, and with his pay-off from Patrick’s insurance and his medical records he was as safe as proverbial houses.

Larry blew his nose and sniffed loudly. His bulbous eyes were watering and he wiped them with his fingers. Patrick disguised his distaste as best he could.

‘Right then, Larry, let’s not beat about the bush - what you got for me?’