Carmella Carmichael, who at twenty-two years old had recently become the proud owner of a pair of 34Ds, was doing everything in her power to snare Daniel Bailey. He was old admittedly, but he still had the aura of a hard man, and Carmella recognised the power of that. Daniel Bailey was a real catch for a girl like her. He was a serious Face and he owned, amongst other places, the Electric Lady, the club where she worked. Now his poor wife was out of the picture, he was on the market for a girl like her. It was well known that he had never been a man who felt the lure of strange. He had been a faithful husband, and Carmella thought that was quite sweet. Now, she could see herself as his consort; the thought appealed to her on so many levels. She was sick to death of lap dancing for a start, and she was even sicker of parading herself in the meat markets that passed as nightclubs in the South-east. She had a lot to offer, and she was more than willing to offer all of it to Daniel Bailey. If she had a baby with him – and it would have to actually be with him, DNA tests being the norm nowadays – then she would be set for life. He was worth a good few quid, and she would be happy to get a piece of that.

Daniel was looking at her incredulously, as if he had never seen a woman before in his life. Carmella saw that as a positive; she had clearly made an impression. She hitched up her enormous chest, and treated him to her widest smile.

‘It’s such a privilege to meet you at last, Mr Bailey.’

Daniel Bailey stared at the girl before turning his back on her. He motioned to the bouncer nearest him and shouted, ‘Oi, do me a favour, mate, get this young lady a cab, will you?’ Then turning back to the girl he said quietly, ‘Listen to me, darling. Girls like you are ten a penny, and the sooner you realise that, the better off you’ll be. All this, the clubs and the money, it’s an elaborate fucking sham, darling. It means nothing at the end of the day. You couldn’t hustle me, love, and the fact you’ve tried is why I wouldn’t touch you with a fucking barge pole. Now get out of my sight. You won’t be dancing here ever again. One day, hopefully, you’ll thank me for that.’

Carmella left the club without another word; she knew when she’d dodged a bullet. She’d seriously misjudged that situation – Daniel Bailey was one scary man.

Davey had witnessed the exchange and, going to his father, he said sadly, ‘That was a bit harsh, Dad. She was one of our best earners.’