With Tatum and her son in prison, Jackie had to get off her arse and make her own money. She’d syphoned off a very healthy amount from Mike before she’d done a runner. The house near Ely was the first to be flogged off. Cash was king as far as she was concerned and what was the point in keeping the place on? She’d dwindled the proceeds away to the point that now she was nearly skint. And the regular poke she’d received from Tatum for using her son on the burglaries had now gone. Having pissed off half the site with her temper tantrums, she was down to no friends, with just herself and a bottle of Grey Goose for company. But even that had recently been replaced with a cheaper bottle of vodka.

She looked out of the window and watched as Cora, Tatum’s wife, stood gossiping with two other women. Holding bags of knocked-off T-shirts, Cora was now confident enough to have the women running around for her. It was once Jackie’s job: she had the contacts and the suppliers and could make a few bob. However, one supplier got a bit cheeky, so Jackie slapped her. Word spread what a bitch Jackie could be, and hence, slowly but surely, the suppliers and the runners backed away.

Cora turned her head to look right through Jackie’s window, allowing Jackie to see the smirk that slithered across Cora’s face.

Firmly under Tatum’s thumb, Cora had led a somewhat oppressed life. Even though they’d had six kids together, Tatum still had the energy to look elsewhere for sex, and he didn’t have to look very far. He and Jackie had compatible sexual appetites, and so whenever he could – which was often – he would find an excuse to see her and they would fuck ’til the cows came home.

Selling her arse to Tatum had been a good money earner for Jackie, but that all stopped too when he went inside.

Jackie had to admit that after a few trips to the beauticians and to a few high-end shops, where she could purchase some decent clobber, Cora did look pretty good. In fact, the woman scrubbed up better than she did. And because Cora’s kids were older now and mostly off her hands, giving Cora more time for herself, she had the means to have a life she wanted. It was an everyday insult to see Cora flashing the cash while she had zilch.

Slamming the glass tumbler down on the table, Jackie walked away from the window and stormed into her bedroom. Furious, she looked around. Her once brand-new caravan was, at one time, the best on the site. She’d bought it when she’d moved to Ireland, and it was still the best model when half the site, herself included, moved over to Essex.