‘My grandad says I’m as pretty as a picture. And he sings me songs. Don’t you, Grandad?’

Tony nodded his head, watching the scene in front of him.

Patrick looked at him as he spoke. ‘And what songs does he sing you?’

‘Can I sing one, Grandad? Please?’

Tony nodded again and she began to sing.

Patrick let Tony Jones sit stewing for another twenty minutes before he decided to leave. By this time Melanie had become so enamoured of him she screamed the place down because she wanted to go with them. Her cries followed them from the house.

She had insisted on a kiss from all three of them, and Willy had had to be scowled at severely by Patrick before he complied. Patrick, on the other hand, had stroked her hair and comforted her before leaving, enjoying the innocence and babyness of her; an innocence that had reminded him of another life, one where he had had a wife and a child.

In the car, he turned to Tony.

‘A lovely child. You must be proud of her?’

Tony nodded, he couldn’t answer.

‘Wasn’t she a lovely little thing, Willy?’

He half turned from his driving. ‘Oh, yeah.’

Patrick continued conversationally.

‘Imagine how you’d feel if someone took her, buggered her, and then left her for dead on a filthy floor. Half her skull battered away, hair stuck to the floor in a pool of blood. If you had to watch her die, slowly and painfully, in the hospital. Watch her fight for her life, after operations to cut her skull away bit by bit because her brain was so swollen inside her head. Makes you sick just thinking about it, don’t it?’

Tony’s nod was barely noticeable.

‘Well, now maybe you’ll understand why you’re going to get the hiding of your fucking life, won’t you? But first I want that cunt’s address, phone number, post code. I want to know everything you know about him. All right?’

Tony nodded again.

At least Kelly hadn’t said he was going to kill him. As far as Tony was concerned, that in itself was a result.

Book Two

Book Two

‘Hanging is too good for him,’
Said Mr Cruelty

- John Bunyan, 1628-88

A rape! A rape!
Yes, you have ravish’d justice.
Forced her to do your pleasure

- John Webster, 1580-1625

Life for life,
Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,
Hand for hand, foot for foot.
Burning for burning, wound for wound,
Stripe for stripe

- Exodus, 21:23

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

George booked himself into the Hilton Hotel at Gatwick. He was feeling upset. He knew he would not sleep.