Absorbing those words boosted her confidence – they weren’t going to do away with her then. She was about to put her brave face on and tell them to fuck off, when, suddenly, the prospect of a load of wonga weaved through her fuzzy mind like gold fairy dust.

‘Oh, Jesus! What’s happened? Is he all right?’

Staffie shook his head. ‘Don’t pretend you care, you evil bitch. I couldn’t give a shit about your feelings. Just get yaself presentable and come with us.’

As Arthur’s eyes fell to the floor, he noticed in among the mess was a T-shirt. It was a small lad’s top, obviously used now as a floor cloth. It was ripped and faded, but he still recognized it as the one Gloria had bought Ricky on his sixth birthday. It was part of a Crystal Palace football strip. He gagged and felt the urge to turn and give her a good kicking; instead, and reluctantly, he swallowed and took a deep breath.

Once they were outside the caravan, leaving Jackie to get herself cleaned up, Arthur turned to Staffie. ‘You know what? I’ve never hated a woman so much. What she put our family through, it’s unforgivable. I would’ve left her there, but I can’t get Mike’s terrified face out of my head. And, he must have his reasons for having that cunt up the hospital.’

As they walked towards the car, Jackie called after them. ‘Wait up! I’m coming.’

‘’Course you are, ya gold-digging bitch,’ mumbled Staffie, under his breath.

Still unsteady from an all-night drinking spree, Jackie hobbled over to them. She’d managed to find an old tracksuit to put on and to grab her bag with enough Flakka concealed in it to see her all right for a few days. She’d paid Leon by selling herself but now he wasn’t answering his phone. Over the last few weeks, she’d successfully managed to control her intake. Just a small snort a few times a day had her sober enough to function but drugged enough not to give a shit. Once the Flakka had run out, though, she would need to source more or end up going cold turkey. The latter option had her petrified.

Arthur got into the driver’s seat while Staffie sat beside him. Under normal circumstances, they would have held the door open for the woman, but Jackie hardly deserved the status of a lady – she was a whore of the lowest kind.

As he pulled away from the site, he almost heaved. Staffie glanced over at Arthur and knew from his expression that he could smell the obnoxious odour permeating from the back of the car. Quickly, he found an air freshener from the glove compartment; with no warning, he sprayed Jackie. ‘Ya fucking stink, woman.’