She hated Freddie Jackson, and the boy had just been another stick to beat her with. If she had only had another child, she could have got away with her deceit, got Freddie off her back. But it had never happened, not even a threat of one.

Every time she allowed Jimmy to take her, she prayed that this time he would give her a proper child, a child of their own.

But inside herself, she felt that would never happen.

'Did you have a nice time at Nana's, mate?'

Jimmy Junior nodded. 'Freddie came and was nice to me.'

Jimmy could hear the relief and surprise in his voice, and he hugged the boy to him, feeling, as he always did when near to him, the sheer strength of his love for his child.

The boy's blue eyes had incredibly long lashes and his little nose was a perfect blob on his handsome little face. His thick dark hair was so like his, wavy and black, and the smell of his small, chubby body was distinct and wholly his own.

'Are you happy, my little soldier?'

The boy looked up at him with complete trust and said happily, 'Yes, I love you, Dad.'

'And I love you, son. Now, off to sleep, eh?'

He watched as he cuddled up to his teddy bear and closed his eyes, and knew it was not natural that this child had never once tried to get into bed with his mother and father.

Jimmy looked around the perfect bedroom. It was a real boy's room. Trains were hand-painted on the walls, and pennants were pinned up to show all the places he had visited in his little life. All his other toys were hidden away in the large toy store, as Maggie insisted on calling it, and the few toys lying around were jigsaws of Thomas the Tank Engine and colouring books and pencils that were all neatly put away in their cases.

This was not how a three year old's bedroom should look. Jimmy didn't know how he knew that, but he was convinced he was right. The jigsaws and colouring books signified solitude to him, and he knew that this child was alone far too much for his own good.

Kissing his little son's forehead, he walked quietly from the room.

Freddie was at the delectable Charmaine's house, and he was happily drinking a beer and watching a video while she made him something to eat.

At least her flat was clean, he would give her a few points for that much anyway, and the kid seemed a nice little thing from the photos that were all over the place. She was at her grandmother's house. Well, there was a novelty on this estate. He would bet not one child under the age of twelve had ever stayed in with their mothers on a Friday night in their life.

Char, as she liked to be called, came back into the small lounge and gave him a cheese sandwich and another beer. She was a nice little thing, well house-trained and with a cracking little arse on her.

'I didn't realise you were Kimberley's dad.'

Now this was a new concept to him. Surely she wasn't his daughter's mate!

'How do you know her, then?'

Charmaine laughed at his tone, and said with a smile, 'I just know her from around the estate, that's all. She pops in sometimes to see my mum for a cuppa, you know.'

Freddie nodded, not sure where this conversation was taking them. 'I see, now why don't you get your kit off while I eat this sandwich, eh?'

Charmaine nearly fainted, and he was surprised that she was so shy. He would have laid money on her being a right little raver.

'Leave it out!' She was genuinely embarrassed, and this endeared her to him for some reason.

'Well, sweetheart, you saw me wife tonight. I ain't come round here to read the fucking Bible with you, have I?'

She laughed, and then she said seriously, 'Do you fancy a joint?'

She opened a small tin, and he watched her in delight as she rolled a perfect little joint and then sparked it up and drew the smoke into her lungs like a true professional.

She passed it to him and he drew on it deeply.

'This is a nice bit of skag, where did you score it?'

She was sipping her own beer now, and he saw that she was very ladylike and dainty.

'I get it off Taffy Robin.'

He laughed then, a big booming laugh that made the girl jump in fright. 'Off fucking who?'

She started giggling as she repeated, 'Taffy Robin, you know, the Welsh bloke who lives in the flats over by the mini park. He always has a good stash on him, anything you want he's usually got it. Ask your Kimberley, she should know.'

He was alert now and sobering up faster than a high-court judge on a drink-driving charge. 'You what? How would my Kimberley know about him?'

Charmaine heard the subtle change in his voice and realised she had said the wrong thing. 'I don't know, Freddie, I thought she knew him, that's all. I was probably wrong, eh?'

She was trying to recover and she was doing a sterling job, but he knew a lying cunt when he saw one. His dad used to say, 'How do you know when a woman's lying? Her lips move,' and he was right about that.

He sat up and, putting down his plate, he said nicely, and with his most charming smile, 'Oh, no you don't, Char. You know something that I don't, see. Now, you can either tell me the truth, and I mean the truth, and me and you can remain friends or you can go to the nearest casualty department via the end of my boot. The choice, my little love, is yours.'

Charmaine was nervous. The dope she had smoked had just hit and she was not enjoying it at all. In fact, she was starting to sweat, she could feel it all over her body and she knew it was through fear.

'I don't know what to tell you, Freddie, I only know she goes round there sometimes-'

She was on her back with him holding her by the throat within seconds, and the force with which she hit the floor winded her. The pain was acute and she was suddenly reminded of just how dangerous this man might actually be.

She looked into those blue eyes that earlier had seemed so sexy and inviting, and now all she saw was anger and threats.

'I am warning you, Charmaine. You had better tell me what my daughter was doing in a Welsh fucking dealer's house, and you better tell me what she was scoring. Because if you lie and I find out you fucking lied to me twice, I will break your fucking neck. Now tell me what it was.'

The girl's eyes were bulging and he was so angry it was a few seconds before he realised that she literally couldn't answer him. He released his grip a little, and then he bellowed over her coughing and spluttering. 'Fucking answer me, you cunt!'

In minutes her life had gone from happy and carefree, with maybe even the promise of a romance, to violence and terror. She was shaking with fear and shock and she said through her tears, 'It's the brown, she's on the brown.'

The words took a few seconds to penetrate and when they did he could not for the life of him form in his mind the correct term for brown.

Then he heard the word heroin in his head like a screaming klaxon and he knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that it was true, it was all true.

And he slapped the girl on the ground around the face and head a few times, before he gravitated to punches and kicks. He was so angry he could kill someone, and he knew exactly who that was going to be.

Maggie lay awake and listened to Jimmy gently snoring. She liked to feel him beside her in the dark, and she liked to hear him breathing as he slept because it made her feel safe.

He had not touched her when he had got into bed, and she was disappointed because she had psyched herself up for it. And she wanted a child of their own, felt that this alone could cleanse her, make things right again.

As she lay there, he turned over and she felt his hand touch her thigh and she jumped as she always did when touched without any warning. Her stomach turned over and she felt the now-familiar sickness as she once again felt Freddie's hands, and smelled his breath and his body odour. She knew that as long as he lived those stenches would stay in her mind, and she would be able to smell them as acutely as she had then.