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This man somehow denoted a glamorous danger that, until now, she had only experienced on rare occasions in the lonely darkness of the movie theatre. She was, as the women she worked with would say, an accident waiting to happen.

Pat Brodie had been watching the girl for a while. She was young and that bothered him; he had always gone for brassy blondes with more mileage than an army truck and more carnal knowledge than was good for them. Talented, was how he described them to himself. Those kind of women knew exactly what to expect from him, and they didn't harbour any illusions, had no foolish dreams of marriage, children or, God help him, love. They took what he was willing to give, the three Fs; a fuck, a fiver and some guaranteed fun. Until now, that was all he had wanted, needed.

Now, this young girl who worked in the Black Cat factory where he picked up cigarettes to sell in pubs and clubs for a fraction of their retail price, had got under his skin.

He was a lot older than her and she was far too young for him, but even knowing that, he still thought about her constantly and it was her obvious innocence that attracted him. Her scruffy clothes and defeated look only seemed to enhance her appeal. It was about more than looks, and this was what worried him the most. This young girl had somehow got under his skin. He had never even spoken to her, he did not know her name and he had no reason in the world to feel like he did.

Now, as he watched her walk to the bus stop once more, he saw the lean lines of her body under the shapeless coat, and appreciated the beauty of a face devoid of make-up and knew that the thing he had always dreaded had finally happened. He wanted her in more ways than just the biblical sense.

Getting out of his car, he followed her to the bus stop with a heavy heart and the hope that once she opened her mouth the illusion she created would disappear, that her allure would fade away because of her cockney accent and ignorant choice of vocabulary.

But under the weak light of the street lamp he found himself lost for words. She turned on hearing him approach, her eyes looked into his, and he saw mirrored there the same feelings and emotions as his own. Except her fear was real, he frightened her and this saddened him because he wanted to make her smile, to make her happy. That was his biggest fear: if he wanted to make her happy, he knew he needed her.

They stared at each other for long moments and he saw her physically relax as if he had told her she had nothing to be scared of, as if they had both agreed to become friends.

Her fear disappeared but his own seemed to increase along with his nervousness.

'Well?' Her voice was low, deep in fact, almost a whisper, and he heard the tremor of excitement the fear inside her caused. He knew then that she had been expecting him, that she welcomed his interest, understood somehow that he meant her no harm.

When she arched one well-plucked eyebrow in enquiry, he also knew then and there that he would never rest until she was his.

She suddenly had all the power and they both knew that, but he didn't care, he was just happy to be near her.

Mick Diamond looked at his stepdaughter in unconcealed disbelief and his wife Annie, he knew, was staring at him in exactly the same way.

'What did you say?' Lily's voice was as always low and respectful when talking to this huge mountain of red flesh and uncertain temper.

'I said, keep your money, girl…'

Lily Diamond had been trying to save her money for ages, but no matter where she hid it, this man found it and spent it without a second's thought. Her mother had no idea she had been given a raise and she had kept the few bob aside, and because of that, she could never say out loud that this man had robbed her while she slept or while she worked. If her mother had known, she would not have had the money anyway, it would have been taken from her immediately.

Now he was standing before her and telling her, civilly mind, that she was not to give over her few bob. She was to keep it, and the most damaging and terrifying remark of all was that he had said she was to treat herself. This, she decided, had to be a new trick of some kind and she tensed up even more, waiting for the blow, the sarcastic remark or the derisory laughter that always made her feel like she was nothing.

She glanced at her mother and knew that she was waiting for the same reaction. What seemed like light-years passed by, each second dragged out almost tangibly in the heavy quiet of the kitchen. Still, it didn't come.

This was a new game then. She had survived worse so she stayed quiet and waited until she knew exactly what she was dealing with, her eyes trained on the money lying there so innocently on the tablecloth, her shoulders aching with the tension this house brought into her bones as soon as she entered the front door.

Mick Diamond looked at the girl and saw the attraction of her to a man like Brodie. He also saw his nemesis; this child could be the death of him with a careless word, because her name was now being coupled publicly and, he was amazed to hear, respectfully, with Patrick Brodie. The sweat was trickling down his face and dripping on to his vest, his hands were trembling and his wife was thankfully struck dumb at his demeanour and his words.

Lily herself, he saw, thought he was baiting her, and this fact worried him even more. It was obvious to him that she didn't know her strength yet, that she didn't understand the power she now wielded and he wanted to get on her good side before she did.

He only hoped it wasn't too late.

'Make the child some tea, woman, and some for meself and all. She's been working all day.'

He smiled at Lily and she looked at her mother as if for guidance.

Annie looked as bewildered as Lily knew she did herself.

Her mother moved with her customary nervousness, the teacups clattering in her shaking hands. Both were wondering if this was a new game of his, a game where he pitted himself against the two of them. He was a bully and he knew his strengths.

He smiled as he lit a Senior Service and, pulling deeply on the cigarette, he held out his arm in a gesture of friendly amiability. He was, Lily realised, offering her a chair.

She sat, as always doing his bidding, even though her hatred of him was so acute she could taste it.

'So where did you meet Mr Brodie then, eh?'

Then she understood, and for the first time ever, she knew how fear could bring you peace of mind, and how fear could change your life for the better. As long as it wasn't your own fear of course.

And as she had lived in abject terror for the best part of her young life, this feeling was wonderful, it was like being released from servitude; she knew that no matter what happened, this man would never frighten her again. He looked smaller already, somehow pathetic and old; his body was hunched over and she knew her own body was now straighter. Patrick had given her respect inside this house and for that alone she would love him to the day she died.

She had the power now, and it was all thanks to her Patrick, Patrick Brodie, the man she was going to marry.

She scooped up her wages from the kitchen table and placed them in her overall pocket. Then she took out her packet of cigarettes and dared to light one in front of her parents and, puffing deeply, she said quietly, 'Tea would be lovely, thanks.'

Her stepfather motioned to his wife and she actually poured the tea then, her mind racing on overtime at what had befallen her daughter and ultimately, she hoped, had befallen herself.

Patrick Brodie was a byword these days, and she knew that if her daughter had managed to snag a fine piece of manhood like him then she had to take the proverbial hat off to her.

Even as the jealousy kicked in, she was, like her husband, looking for ways to utilise the relationship for her own benefit.

This time the tea had sugar as well as milk, and as Lily Diamond lit another cigarette she hoped and prayed that Patrick didn't tire of her, because if he did, these two would slaughter her without a second's thought.

'You having me on?' Billy Spot was laughing, but the laughter was with the subject of his humour, definitely not against him, nor his notoriously flimsy pride.

Since taking out Barry Caldwell, this young man had become an overnight sensation and Billy, being Billy, was waiting to see if this lad's new-found status was going to be a fixture. He had seen them come and go over the years, he knew the score in their game. It was how you survived, you either outlived, or you out-boxed your opponents. At the moment, Pat was the dog's knob and he would worship at his altar if that was what it took to keep himself in the running. He was a follower, not a leader, he knew that better than anyone. But he knew Barry's death had caused ripples through their world and he also knew that retribution was on its way. He had funded it himself, along with a few other cronies. He could afford to be friendly, but he had no intention of giving up his pavement without a fight.

'She seems a nice girl though.' The laughter was gone now, he was all respect and feigned interest.

Pat smiled then. 'She is.'

Pat actually liked Billy and he saw his Lil as on a par with Billy's old woman. She was also a civilian and had never been inside any of her old man's clubs, and had no reputation to speak of. She produced children with the minimum of fuss and she lied to the Old Bill as and when the occasion warranted it. In short, she was a good bird and Billy worshipped the ground she walked on.

Like Billy, he too wanted a brahma, a good girl. He wanted someone he could trust even if he got himself a twenty. And his instincts told him that all these attributes were possessed by the young girl he had become besotted with. And he was besotted. He had not wanted another woman for weeks, and for him that was like not wanting a drink or a deal.

In short, it was unheard of.

He had other things on his mind and once they were dealt with, he could relax and court his girl in peace. He was making himself a decent living so that once he was married he could live like a king.

Unfortunately, that involved stepping on more than a few toes, but he was prepared for the fallout and more than eager to take up any reins that might come his way.

He was a chancer like his father, but unlike his father he liked to make sure that anything he accrued stayed close by. He guessed that Billy, like Barry, was not allowing for his acumen in this new world of skulduggery. Respecting your elders was a luxury these days, and the sooner the silly old fuckers realised that, the better off they would all be.

'Do you have a problem with me outing drugs, Bill?'

Billy shrugged, and Patrick was impressed at the way the man acted so nonchalantly when they both knew the score; he was taking Billy's businesses over gradually and irrevocably. Billy Spot's workforce were now all working in some way for him.

It was a checkmate situation and Patrick hoped that Billy would understand that and not grieve too much over times gone by.

He had heard the rumours about retribution for Barry and he watched his back, but he also accepted it as part and parcel of their choice of career.

Billy's day was long gone, he had made the mistake all powerful men make; he hadn't been on the actual street for years. He was told only what he wanted to hear and he couldn't cap anyone himself, relying on heavies to do his dirty work. He was an embarrassment to all and sundry.

Pat knew the man was waiting to see whether he could keep up this dangerous façade, and if he could, he knew he would have a partner, if not in crime, then at least at the local drinking establishments. He had been willing to use Billy even though he knew the man and his cronies were putting up pound notes to bring about his demise. None of them had liked Barry as such, but none of them wanted to be Barry.

He understood that, except if he had been in Billy's shoes he would have been dead by now.

'You jammy little mare!'

Constance White looked at the young girl packing cigarettes expertly into boxes beside her, and her grin was friendly and amiable. 'Fuck me, girl, you got Pat Brodie! Most of his amours end up calling him Glenn Miller and that's because he normally goes on the missing list.'

Everyone laughed, and Lily went bright red with embarrassment.

At twenty, Constance was already married and had two children; her husband was a no-neck with acne scars and the conversation of an African elephant. So she envied this little piece even as she admired her. Many women had tried to snag Brodie, herself included, but he had slipped away like an oily chain. Good-looking girl though, and men like Brodie liked the innocent look, in a wife anyway. Like all men he wanted to be sure that any children carrying his name were actually his. No cuckoos in the nest for him. He was thirty if he was a day and she was fifteen; he must think all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once.

But it was the change in Lily that amazed Constance. The girl had grown into herself overnight, had started walking tall, she spoke before she was spoken to and she had the flushed cheeks of a girl ripe for the marriage bed.

Connie, as she was called, knew that this child, and she was a child for all her mature looks, was not going to be one of Brodie's usual shack-ups. He wanted this one to breed with, and she had a feeling Lily would amaze them all.

Lily smiled happily; thanks to Pat she was set for life, and this factory and all it entailed would be a thing of the past soon. As soon as she hit sixteen she was gone.

Thunderclap Newman came on the radio and she sang along with her workmates; there definitely was something in the air.

Patrick affected her in so many ways, and as she packed her cigarettes she dreamt of his body touching hers, and longed for the kisses she was sure to get once the night drew in and they were alone in his car.

Billy Spot was standing outside his nightclub in Soho with his girlfriend on his arm. A redhead called Velma, she had all his usual prerequisites; big tits, nice teeth and long skinny legs. Billy was wearing his customary attire: black Crombie overcoat, pin-stripe suit and an expensive cigar.