Nipper didn’t know how he was keeping a straight face. It was fun, pulling her strings. And it was fun, shagging her. Poor desperate bitch.

He saw Milly starting to smile. ‘I didn’t realize . . .’ she said.

‘I know you didn’t. I’m head over heels crazy about you.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. One hundred per cent. But we got to be careful.’

‘Yes. OK. I get that.’

‘Good.’

‘Chrissakes come here and kiss me,’ said Nipper.

80

Belle usually liked her trips into the Smoke. One of her dad’s people – it used to be Beezer – always drove her in a nice big shiny Merc, dropped her right outside Harrods and in she went for a spree. Money no object. Anything Belle wanted, she could have.

In fact . . . well, there wasn’t much she did want. Not today. She already had a walk-in wardrobe stuffed with designer gear, rack upon rack stacked with shoes, a cupboard full of Gucci and Chanel handbags worth a bloody fortune. But her mood was low. God, it was so sad about Beezer. He’d been a fixture in all their lives for so long, and to know that he’d done that, killed himself, it was just tragic.

Belle walked all around the store, stopped for a coffee, then did the rounds again. Nothing took her eye. Nothing appealed. A deep sadness seemed to be sapping her of strength, of purpose. She went back for another coffee, went into the ladies’ loo and repaired her make-up, adding a slick of sugar-pink lippy and a squirt of perfume.

She paused then, staring at her reflection. Yes, she looked good. And men liked her. She’d had a few boyfriends, nothing serious; Nige Pope – or Einstein as all her group called him – she’d dated him for a while, but they hadn’t really clicked. She’d never been actually in love, not even close to it.

She put her make-up back in her handbag and pulled a face at herself in the mirror. One day, Dad always told her, she would marry a wealthy man and she would be treasured, because she deserved to be. All the time, Belle knew she attracted attention from men. Even walking down the street, she drew stares. She was used to it. Used to Harlan trying it on too, the bastard. She frowned as she thought of him. He frightened her. They’d practically grown up together but she had never once felt comfortable around him and she hated the gang of young chancers he was gathering around himself. They were different to Charlie Stone’s old workforce. She didn’t like any of them.

Belle heaved a sigh. Christ, poor Beezer. That was so shocking. She couldn’t seem to get over it. Her dad had been devastated about it, had actually shed a tear, and she had never seen that happen before.