With four outfits over her arm, Ellen was on her way to the counter to pay when Maddy burst in. “We have to get out of here,” she whispered frantically. “He sent him, I know he did!”

Ellen took hold of her and gave her a gentle shake. “Maddy, calm down! You’re not making any sense.” She paid the shop assistant and picked up her carrier bags.

Maddy waited impatiently, wringing her hands, glancing at the door and praying that the man had not followed her. “Listen to me,” she hissed. “That man… he knew me. He asked if I’d sung at the Pink Lady, he even knew me by name! We have to get away from here, Ellen! We have to go now.”

Realizing this was serious, Ellen told the assistant, “My friend here is feeling ill.” Keeping her cool, she asked, “Is there a toilet we could use? I think she might be sick, and I wouldn’t want her to spoil any of your beautiful clothes.”

That did the trick. In seconds, Ellen was hustling Maddy to the rear of the shop, and from there via the back door and onto the street, where they ran as fast as their legs would take them. In minutes, they were in the car and driving toward the outskirts of Lytham.

Having caught her breath, Ellen demanded that Maddy tell her everything. “Word for word – what did this man say?”

Maddy breathlessly relayed the conversation. “He knew everything – about me singing at the club, and that a new singer had taken my place. He didn’t say anything about the shootings. He wanted to know if I had come on hard times, and asked did I need any money – did I want ‘a bit of fun,’ that kind of thing. But it was all a ploy. He was under orders, I’m sure of it.”

She took a deep breath, then continued, “He asked me where I lived, started making advances. He wouldn’t let me pass. I really thought he would shove me into a car and make off with me. Oh Ellen, I was terrified!”

“So, how did you manage to get away from him?” Ellen’s eyes were huge and alarmed.

“I wanted to run, but I was afraid he’d come after me. Then I thought it might be best if I played along with him, so I told him I was lonely, because my husband was away. I said we lived in one of the terraced houses near the shops.”

Thinking of it now made her skin crawl. “I told him I had things to do and that I’d be back in an hour. We made arrangements for him to call round.”

“Could it have been that he just saw and recognized you?” Ellen asked. “He may simply have been an old client thinking you were down on your luck, and trying to take advantage.”

Maddy shook her head. “No. Knowing Steve Drayton, he’s probably got men all over the country looking for me. Looking for both of us.”

Ellen had to concede the possibility. “You could be right.”

“I am. I just know it.”

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellen went over what Maddy had told her. “If he was Drayton’s man, why would he approach you in the first place? I mean, why didn’t he just take a note of where he’d seen you, secretly follow you home, and report it back to Drayton?”

Maddy’s heartbeat slowed down. “Do you think he really was just a client who’d seen me singing at the club, and was coming on to me?” Oh, if only she could believe that, but every instinct in her body told her otherwise.

“I really don’t know what to think,” Ellen sighed, “although like I said, if he really was Drayton’s man, he’d have been far craftier. On the other hand, he could have been sent to find you, and thought he could get his leg over for tuppence. After all, he’s a man, and sometimes men can lose all sense of duty where a woman’s concerned. Maybe he’s wanted you for a long time and you were always out of reach. When he saw you today, his need of you was stronger than his fear of Drayton.”

Pulling up at the traffic lights, she glanced at Maddy. “You have to admit, it’s possible.”

“Well, yes, when you put it like that.” Maddy was not altogether convinced. “But even if that were true, it doesn’t change the fact that one of the club-goers recognized me. What if it gets back? What if this man has links with him? If he thought he could get money out of it, what’s to stop him from visiting him and asking if he’s willing to pay for information regarding his old sweetheart?”

Ellen groaned. “That is some imagination you have,” she said. But she didn’t laugh, nor did she dismiss Maddy’s fears.

Maddy first thoughts were for her baby. What would happen to Michael if he were to find her? She daren’t even think of the consequences.

“I’m frightened,” she told Ellen in a choked voice. “I thought we were safe. Now I’m not so sure.”

Choosing not to alarm Maddy any further, Ellen said nothing. But she fully understood her friend’s fears. The past was catching up, and it was a dangerous thing – for Maddy and the child, more so than for herself.

There was no doubt about it. However much she might try to reassure Maddy, this was a frightening development, which needed some very serious thought.

The little man was sweating. His bleak surroundings were all too familiar. The stench of misery seemed to waft through the room, and there was a sense of hopelesness in the very walls of the prison. Behind him, the warder stood watching, ready for the slightest wrong move by either the prisoner or his wretched visitor.

The little man looked up, directly into the flat dark eyes of the burly warder. “We’re late today,” he said pleasantly, but his voice fell on deaf ears. He knew what it was like. Often the guards deliberately did not bring the prisoners out on time. It was as though they took sadistic enjoyment in making them sweat to the last minute.

The little man wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. Twelve years off and on he had lived behind prison walls, and the very thought of being locked in even as a visitor, made the sweat drip down his back like a running tap.

Turning again, he nervously smiled at the officer. As before, the other man made no response. Instead, he stared down on him through those shark-like eyes, his hard expression seemingly set in stone.

The little man twitched and focused on the door through which Drayton would arrive any minute.

The moment he had the thought, the door opened, and Drayton swaggered to the table where he pulled out the chair and sat down, his eyes riveted on little Danny. “I take it you’ve got something for me?” Leaning forward he kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard.

Markedly jumpy, Danny glanced about.

“What the hell does that mean? You’ve either found her or you haven’t.” Having recently tangled with the worst kind of enemy behind bars, Drayton was in no mood for games. “Well?”

Not relishing the news he had to impart, Danny jogged Drayton’s memory. “Do you recall Jimmy Norman – the man who used to do a bit of running for you, at the club?”

Drayton wasn’t listening. He was watching as the guards escorted in a huge mountain of a man. Physically daunting, with wide beefy shoulders and the neck of a bull, he seemed to dwarf the officers who flanked him.

Two days ago Brewster was sentenced to life. Powerful and merciless, his aim was to bring the other prisoners in Brixton under his control. However, he had not reckoned with Drayton – and there was already bad blood between them.

Now, when he sauntered by, the atmosphere in the room was dark with loathing.

“As I was saying…” Sensing trouble, the little man called Drayton’s attention back. “Jimmy Norman…”

“Dammit, man, get on with it!” With his eyes boring into the back of Brewster’s head, Drayton looked fit to kill.

As quickly as he could, Danny told his story. “It seems one of Jimmy’s mates runs a gambling joint in Blackpool. Jimmy was up there – apparently the two of them are going into some venture or oth-” Seeing the look on Drayton’s face, he began to gabble nervously. “Bottom line is this. Jimmy was in Lytham when he spotted yer woman.”