‘Well, if she plays ball with me, she won’t get no slaps from me or the johns,’ Dora said. ‘I’m going to phone Randall now to tell him I’ve got a Christmas present for him.’

‘You’re going to let him break her in tonight?’ Seb was alarmed at this. He had procured many girls for Dora in the last couple of years, but they had all been hard little bitches. Molly was different.

He understood why Dora had a heart like stone. Her own mother had allowed a male friend to rape her when she was only seven. From that day till she finally ran away at the age of fourteen she’d been passed around from man to man like a toy. She had told Seb she’d decided then and there that, in future, she would make men pay dearly for what they wanted.

It was said she had a fine big house out Epping way, that it was beautifully decorated and furnished. But she was hardly ever in it; most of the time she slept here in Greek Street, in the same squalor as her ‘tenants’, as she liked to call them. She didn’t turn tricks any longer – she didn’t need to, as she took half of what each ‘tenant’ made, and none of them could cheat her because she knew every angle.

‘That’s why I gave her the drops.’ Dora shrugged. ‘If it ain’t done tonight she’ll realize what this place is tomorrow and she’ll run. That’d be such a waste.’

‘You’re all heart, Dora,’ Seb responded. Dora always gave him a good wedge for finding girls and, normally, he didn’t have the slightest qualm about it. He took the line that, if he hadn’t picked them up, someone else would. But, just this once, he felt bad.

‘She’ll hardly know what’s happening with the dose I gave her. Get the first time out the way and she’ll be fine.’

Seb wasn’t so sure. In the short while he’d been with Molly she’d struck him as a bright girl with a great deal of natural dignity. He couldn’t ever see her taking on some ten or so men a night, like the rest of Dora’s girls did. But he’d brought her here for the money, and it was too late now to back away. The best thing he could do was get home to his wife and sons.

‘If I can have my cut now, I’ll be off.’ He got to his feet and buttoned up his overcoat. ‘I told the missus I’d be home by ten tonight, and it’s well past that now.’

Dora unlocked a small door in her sideboard and drew out a cashbox. She handed him twenty pounds. ‘If she’s got what it takes, I’ll give you the same again in the New Year,’ she said. ‘And a merry Christmas to you, Seb.’

Molly woke with a start when the light was switched on. A man was standing in the doorway looking at her. He was perhaps fifty, a fat man with a high colour and thinning grey hair. He was wearing a navy overcoat, and the expression on his face made her feel alarmed.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘You, sweetheart,’ he said, coming right into the room and closing the door behind him.

She was still half asleep, but in a flash of intuition she sensed what he was about, and also, to her horror, how the other girls in the house must make their living. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her when Seb had first brought her here.

‘I’m not that kind of girl, so get out now!’ she hissed at him. ‘Or I’ll scream and wake the whole place up.’

‘I like it when girls fight me off,’ he said, leering at her and reaching out to pull the blankets off her. ‘Dora said you were likely to be a little hellcat.’

Molly was very woozy and her limbs felt like lead, but she knew she had to pull herself together and deal with this man. ‘You lay one finger on me and you’ll regret it,’ she warned him.

‘What are you going to do, sweetheart?’ he said in a honeyed voice, one hand grabbing hold of her breast and the other pushing aside the blankets to get under her skirt. ‘Screaming’s not going to stop me – they’re used to that in this place.’

It was something about the way he said ‘screaming’ that made her think of her father hitting her. He had never cared if she screamed either.

She’d learned to stand up to him, and she’d got away from him, and she wasn’t about to allow some nasty stranger to do vile things to her without putting up the fight of her life.

She thrashed out at him and clawed his face, drawing blood. But he didn’t even wince, just drew his arm back and slapped her hard, shoving her back down on to the mattress.

The slap stung, and she was really scared, but she didn’t even put her hand to her cheek, much less cry out, as she didn’t want him to see her weaken. She thought fast. She needed some kind of weapon, and she scanned the room looking for something she could use. There was nothing but a stout pole in the corner of the room, which she guessed was used to open the skylight. It was a bit unwieldy but, in the absence of anything better, it would have to do. She couldn’t move, anyway, as he was holding her by the shoulders with both hands and pushing her down on the bed. She would have to wait for the right opportunity.

‘My word, you are a nice little Christmas present,’ he said, flopping himself down on her and trying to kiss her.

His breath stank, not just of drink and cigarettes but something like raw sewage, too. She turned her face, which was stinging from the slap, away from him, and forced herself not to struggle, as she felt she would have a far better chance of getting away if he thought he’d knocked the fight out of her.

‘Don’t hurt me,’ she whimpered, realizing that he would have to let go of her shoulders to undo his trousers or to pull up her clothes.

‘There’s always a bit of pain the first time,’ he said, and it sounded as if he enjoyed that thought. ‘Just let me see that little virgin pussy.’

Molly almost retched at his breath and at the thought of him touching her. But to stand a chance of escape she had to play along with him.

‘I’m really scared, but let me get my clothes off, or they’ll be all creased up tomorrow,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll undress you,’ he said, and he moved off her, lying on his side, leaning up on his elbow to start undoing the buttons on her cardigan and blouse.

As he undid the last button he slid his hand into the top of her petticoat and tried to yank her breast out of her bra.

‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re so rough.’

He withdrew his hand, as she hoped he would. ‘Well, you take the rest of your stuff off, then.’

She sat up and made out she was going to take off her cardigan, and he seemed to relax a bit. She held out one side of her cardigan just long enough to stop him seeing her move her legs, which were still under the blankets, over the side of the bed. Then, in one swift movement, she flicked the blankets back and leapt to her feet.

She was on the side of the bed by the window. He looked at her in astonishment and laughed. ‘You want to play games, then?’ he said. ‘I’ll smack your bottom when I catch you, and that’ll be easy, because you’re trapped, silly girl.’

He got off the bed and began to sidle round the narrow space at the end of it to where she was.

Molly waited till he was almost close enough to grab her, then jumped up on the bed. He hastily moved back the way he had come, assuming she was making for the door. But as soon as he was there she jumped back to the floor where she’d been before and, once again, he moved back to try to catch her.

She repeated this twice more, as if it were a game. Each time, he was getting redder in the face and panting with the exertion.

‘Can’t catch me, Fat Man!’ she taunted him, and bounced high on the bed, making the springs twang. He lunged forward across the bed to grab her, but this time she jumped off the bed on the side of the pole and snatched it up.

She’d worked out that she needed to disable him with just one blow or he would hurt her, so it had to be an extremely hard one. She knew she was strong: all that cycling and lifting heavy boxes back in Somerset had built up her muscles. Turning towards him and gripping the pole with both hands, she lifted it and brought it down on his head with all the force she could muster.