Patrick stared at her for long moments and she felt the sheer magnetism that dangerous men seemed to have in abundance. He was a handsome fuck, no doubt about that and, coupled with his rep and his financial status, he was the answer to every hostess's dreams. A man with a bit of clout was what she wanted; she had no interest in his loyalty, no interest in anything pertaining to him and his married life. Not yet anyway. All she wanted was a piece of the action, her fifteen minutes of fame.

'Well?'

His blue eyes were cold and for a split second she faltered.

She smiled then, showing her perfect teeth. Ruby had a lovely smile and she had paid a fortune to guarantee that it stayed that way. All her body maintenance was about the long term and making sure she didn't end up like her mother. Old before her time and acting twenty years older than she actually was because her life had ended abruptly with the unfortunate acceptance of a plain gold wedding band.

'Are you a bit fucking thick?'

Ruby stared at him, unsure what to say, the smile still on her thickly painted face.

He walked towards her: he wasn't rushing, he didn't seem angry so she wasn't too bothered until he grabbed her round the throat and pushed her up against the door. 'You listen to me and you listen good. If I ever see you within three foot of me again I'll break your fucking neck. Now, do you understand me or shall I tattoo it on your fucking fat arse?'

Pat's voice was low, and she realised then that she had completely misread the situation.

Ruby Tyler was now terrified of the man she had so recently seen as an easy mark.

He looked into her eyes and then, hawking deeply in his throat, he spat into her face. The globule of phlegm hit her on the cheek, the residue sprayed her eyes and she closed them instinctively, expecting the worst.

'You ever fucking come near me again, girl, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. A blow job gains you nothing from me except my disgust. Now out! Get your coat and anything else you have here and don't come back, you hear me?'

She nodded, her perfectly backcombed hair unmoving even with the violence of his attack. He loosened his grip on her throat and she instinctively leant back further on to the door, her breath coming in short and painful gasps.

He turned back to his desk and started tidying his papers, and she made her escape as quietly and as quickly as she could.

Patrick was controlling his anger with difficulty; a cunt like her could ruin his whole way of life. As easy-going as Lil was, a ponce like that fronting her up would guarantee her having to do something about it, if just to save face. He had to make sure that never happened again; what the eye don't see, the heart don't grieve over, that had been his mantra all his life and he saw no reason to change it just because some cunt with a cleavage and a friendly mouth had got too big for her boots.

Trouble looked for him, as it did most people, and he had no intention of bringing it to his own front door because some tom didn't understand the ways of the world.

Annie Diamond went to the front door, her steps light and easy on the thick carpet that she marvelled at every day. That Lil, the neuter, the runt, had managed to get herself this far on in life irked her, even though her daughter's circumstances gained her not only respect but a decent roof over her head and the added bonus of serious wedge regularly. Annie's jealousy of her daughter knew no bounds.

As she opened the door, she smiled craftily, and Mick Diamond slipped inside without a sound.

The terror of her life, the man she had shackled herself to because a name for her child had been more important than anything else, was once more a fixture. Only this time, he needed her more than she needed him.

For Annie though, his main appeal these days was the fact that she could sit with him and slaughter her daughter without worrying that it would get back to her or indeed that husband of hers.

Mick and Annie finally had a common goal; they were both determined to make the most of Lil's good fortune, and they were even more determined to wait patiently until the day Patrick Brodie got fed up with her and pushed her aside for a newer model. Although that would signal the end of any money that came their way, they were both agreed that she was getting far too big for her boots.

Mick had been overlooked by Lil and her new husband; he had been ignored and humiliated by Pat more than once. The first time he had approached him and Lil as they sat in the pub chatting. Patrick had acted like he was invisible and he had stood there all nice and friendly while his cronies had looked knowingly at each other. Lil had glanced at him and he had been gratified to see a flicker of fear in her large grey eyes.

The second time, he had waited until Pat was leaving his house and he had hailed him, introducing himself with a flourish and acting the concerned parent. He had then been told in no uncertain terms by Brodie that he knew he was a bullying ponce who had given his Lil a bastard of a life and if he thought her alliance with him was going to bring any kind of rewards then he was obviously a fucking nutcase. He also made it very clear that if he ever approached him again he would make sure that he spent the remainder of his miserable life as a raspberry ripple.

Mick had swallowed though, and when his wife had also gone AWOL he had learned a hard and bitter lesson. The survival of the fittest was an act of nature and he was now so far down the food chain that he was practically human plankton. His reign of terror was over and his daughter's wages were well out of his reach. His wife had left him without a backward glance and ingratiated herself with her daughter and her new beau. She had signed the papers that guaranteed their marriage could go ahead and she had made herself indispensable into the bargain.

She had one thing he didn't; she was blood and blood went a long way in the East End. It took a lot for anyone to turn their backs on it, and Lil was no different to anyone else in that respect. Bolting the door on a parent, no matter what they had done, would have been seen as an outrageous act of arrogance. The only way you could have got away with that was if your mother or father was proved to be either a grass or a child molester. Anything else was expected to be overlooked, and taken into consideration when the parent in question was housed and fed. Inside the front door you could do what you liked, beat the shit out of them, whatever; outside the front door though, it had to look like you were doing your duty.

Now, here he was, dependent on the woman who he felt had tricked him into marriage and then produced a child by someone else, without ever giving him a child he could call his own. But thanks to Annie's naturally antagonistic personality, he had finally got his in, even if it was only by sneaking round when Lil and Pat were both out and then having to listen to his wife's litany of complaints until she slipped him a few quid and hurried him out lest they got caught together.

He also learned a lot about Brodie and his business dealings, and the more he heard, the more his anger swelled up inside him.

Annie opened the bedroom door as always, and he looked down at the two sleeping boys, all the while wanting to wring his wife's neck for rubbing in the fact that he had no real kin of his own. But he admired them as always, and waited for her to lead him through to the kitchen and pour him a large drink.

Annie, for her part, loved the hold she now had over this man. Marriage to Mick Diamond had been a constant battle of nerves and she had been left bitter. Her daughter had been the cause of all the strife and, until Lance had been produced one sunny afternoon, she had never understood what other women seemed to take for granted. The pure unadulterated love for a child, a baby.