Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't make the decisions, Will,' he replied quickly.

'I fink it's about time yer started then,' William said sharply as he walked away.

He had tethered the lame horse outside the small stable. When he walked back over to it, he saw that it was sweating. He led the animal into the stall. It stood quietly as he rubbed it down vigorously with sacking and handfuls of straw until its coat was dry and shining. As William filled the box with chaff, George walked into the stable.

''Ow is it?' he asked, running his hand down the horse's withers.

'I've rubbed it down an' it's eatin'. It'll be all right in a day or two,' William told him.

Galloway leaned back against the centre post and eyed his foreman closely. 'I take it yer know all about Mitch.e.l.l?'

'Should I?' William asked curtly.

'Jake Mitch.e.l.l used ter fight fer me on the pub circuit,' Galloway went on. 'If yer remember, I brought 'im over this side o' the water ter fight at the Eagle a few years ago.'

William nodded. 'I remember, but I'd never met the man. Gypsy Williams 'e was known as then, wasn't 'e?'

Galloway smiled crookedly. 'That's right. 'E's still good, an' 'e can beat anybody round 'ere that I know of.'

William wiped his hands on a piece of sacking and looked quizzically at Galloway. 'What I can't understand is why yer brought Mitch.e.l.l 'ere. If yer need an extra carman, why not get Lofty Russell back, or even Darbo? At least they were reliable.'

Galloway stood up straight and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. 'Jake Mitch.e.l.l's reliable enough, an' besides, 'e ain't in as an extra. 'E'll be takin' Sid Bristow's place,' he said firmly.

William threw down the piece of sacking in disgust. 'Yer tellin' me yer actually gone and sacked Bristow 'cos the man's bin off sick fer a few weeks? Christ Almighty! Bristow's bin wiv yer almost as long as I 'ave.'

Galloway shrugged his shoulders. 'Bristow's gettin' past it, Will. 'E's 'avin' trouble managin' the work an' 'e never puts in a full week nowadays. I got a business ter run, not a b.l.o.o.d.y friendly society.'

'But yer could give 'im the light van an' let 'im do the runabouts. That's the least yer could do,' William said with pa.s.sion.

'Look, it's no good yer tryin' ter make me change me mind,' Galloway replied firmly. 'Bristow's goin' an' that's the end of it. Mitch.e.l.l takes 'is cart over termorrer.'

'But why Mitch.e.l.l? Wouldn't it 'ave bin better ter get one o' the ovvers back?' William asked.

Galloway shook his head. 'The Bermon'sey Bashers are startin' up again,' he said, smiling. 'I should fink that makes it obvious why I want Mitch.e.l.l.'

The yard foreman nodded his head slowly. 'So that's it,' he said quietly. 'Well, I 'ope 'e does 'is fair share o' the work round 'ere, George, an' I'll tell yer straight, while I'm the yard foreman 'e'll take orders from me like the rest of 'em.'

Galloway bit on his lip in irritation. He needed Jake Mitch.e.l.l to fight for him. He was more than a match for anyone the local publicans could put up, and there was quite a pretty penny to be earned betting on the outcome. G.o.d knew, he needed the extra money. Rose was becoming more demanding, and she had expensive tastes.

Galloway's silent stare angered the yard foreman and his eyes blazed. 'I mean what I say, George,' he said forcefully.

Galloway raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. 'All right, Will, all right,' he sighed dismissively. 'That's understood. I've already told Mitch.e.l.l. Yer'll get no trouble from 'im, an' if yer got any complaints come an' see me an' we'll get it sorted out. That all right?'

William nodded. 'I still fink yer've bin 'ard wiv ole Sid Bristow,' he remarked, looking Galloway in the eye. 'Sid was the last o' yer ole carmen. It don't seem right ter me.'

George walked to the stable door and then turned to face his foreman. 'Look, Will, I don't wanna argue wiv yer. As I said, me mind's made up. Don't you worry though, there'll always be a job 'ere fer you. Why, me an' you was kids tergevver. I ain't likely ter ferget that.'

William watched him cross the yard and sighed deeply as he cut the wires on a hay bale. Talk was cheap where Galloway was concerned, he reminded himself. What if he went down sick? Would Galloway still feel the same then? The horse had started sweating again and William felt troubled as he grabbed another handful of sacking.

Carrie was in a thoughtful mood as she left the dining rooms and walked the short distance home. She had gone with Tommy to the Infirmary on two occasions that week and his mother seemed to be rallying. She was now propped up in bed and had recovered enough to have s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation with her son. The doctor had said she would be able to go home soon, although there had been some permanent damage and she would never fully recover. Tommy had taken the news quietly. He had not said much, but Carrie was aware that he would be hard put to it to hold down his job as well as care for his mother. One or two of her neighbours had offered to go in and see her during the day but as Tommy had said, she was a difficult woman to deal with and her few friends would soon find it too much to stand.

Carrie thought about their long walks together after they left the Infirmary. They had strolled along the riverside in the cool of the evening and watched the seagulls wheeling over the moored barges. She had taken his hand and they had stolen kisses in the shadows of the lofty wharves, but she had felt that Tommy always seemed to be holding back. He had not invited her to his house again, and when he walked her to her front door he kissed her hurriedly as though all the street were watching him. Carrie believed she understood his reasons and it made her angry with the lot fate had dealt him. She understood that he had loved once before and lost, and now he could not bring himself to open his heart to her and love her the way she wanted to be loved. It seemed to her that Tommy was afraid to take things further, although he must realise that theirs could not remain a simple boy and girl friendship. Carrie felt that she was now ready to experience love completely, and he was the one she wanted to give herself to.

Nellie was laying the table when Carrie walked in. She raised her eyes to the ceiling in a secret sign to her daughter and nodded in the direction of the menfolk who were all sitting around talking together.

'I'm startin' work there on Monday,' James was saying. 'There's no future in the sawmills an' it's about time I 'ad a change.'

'Well, if that's what yer wanna do, Jim,' his father replied. 'Cabinet-makin' is a good trade. Yer can learn French polishin' an' veneerin' as well. I wish now I'd gone in that trade. There's more of a future in furniture than workin' wiv 'orses. In time, it'll be all motors on the roads.'

Jim sat back in his chair and hooked his thumbs through his braces. 'I made me mind up ter get out o' the mills when ole Benny Taylor lost two fingers in that band-saw the ovver week,' he said with conviction. 'Took 'em right off it did. 'E fainted right over the saw, an' if it wasn't fer the foreman grabbin' 'im 'e'd 'ave bin split right down the middle.'

'Do yer 'ave to, Jim?' his mother admonished him. 'We'll be 'avin' tea soon. I don't wanna 'ear fings like that at teatime.'

Jim grinned at his father. 'b.l.o.o.d.y shame about poor ole Benny,' he went on. ''E plays the pianer in the pub. Well, 'e did do. 'E won't be able ter do that anymore.'

'I s'pose 'e could always use 'is elbows,' Danny said to bursts of laughter.

Carrie stifled a laugh as she saw the look on her mother's face. 'Jus' fink, Mum, Jim'll be able ter make yer a nice bedroom suite soon,' she joked.

Danny moved round in his chair to face James. 'D'yer fink I could get a job at the cabinetmakers, Jim?' he asked. 'I'm gettin' fed up wiv servin' in that shop. Only women should 'ave ter serve in shops.'

Carrie cuffed him lightly around the head. 'Don't yer be so cheeky. One day women'll be doin' all the jobs men do, jus' you wait an' see,' she told him forcefully.

'What, drive 'orse-an'-carts an' be dustmen an' fings?' Danny said, laughing.

'I drove an 'orse-an'-cart once,' Nellie cut in. 'It's surprisin' what women can do.'

'I'd like ter see 'em go in the boxin' ring,' Danny said derisively.

'They'd take their gloves off an' pull each ovver's 'air out, I should fink,' James said, winking at his younger brother.

'Sadie Sullivan wouldn't,' Nellie remarked. 'She's still a match fer any man.'

'That family's b.l.o.o.d.y mad,' James declared. 'If they're not thumpin' ovver people, they're knockin' each ovver silly.'

'Not now they don't,' Danny said quickly. 'Billy's the only one who fights now, an' 'e's earnin' money fer doin' it.'

'Well, that's as it may be, but yer can get it out of yer 'ead if yer fink me an' yer farvver are gonna let you be a boxer,' Nellie told him firmly.

William hid a grin as Danny looked appealingly at him. 'There's a fighter started work at the yard. Jake Mitch.e.l.l 'is name is,' he said, turning to Nellie. ''Ave yer clapped eyes on 'im yet?'

Nellie nodded. 'Ugly-lookin' git. I see 'im drivin' up the turnin' the ovver mornin'. Usin' the whip 'e was. I don't like ter see 'em whippin' those 'orses.'

'If I catch 'im usin' the whip there'll be trouble,' William said quickly. 'Yer'll never get the best out of an 'orse by usin' the whip. 'Orses 'ave gotta be coaxed.'

'What's this bloke doin' workin' fer Galloway if 'e's a fighter?' Danny asked.

''E fights in the pubs, or 'e used to before the police stopped it,' William told him.

'Billy told me all about those pub matches,' Danny said. 'Billy reckons they don't fight under the Marquis o' Queensberry rules, an' some o' the fighters put liniment on the gloves.'

'What's that for, the b.u.mps an' bruises?' Nellie asked innocently.

'Nah, it's ter blind the ovver bloke,' Danny answered amid laughter.

'When's tea gonna be ready?' Charlie said suddenly, looking up from his book.

'Five minutes. I'm waitin' on the greens,' Nellie told him. William smiled to himself. Charlie was so different from his brothers, he thought with amus.e.m.e.nt. He seemed able to lose himself in a book despite all that was going on around him. James always had something to say and was ever ready to get into an argument, and Danny was the cheeky one, restless and inclined to sudden changes of mood. Charlie could sit curled up in one corner with a book or the paper for hours. Nothing seemed to worry him and his two brothers had long ago given up trying to bait him.

Nellie was serving up steaming mutton stew and Carrie sliced the bread as the family gathered around the table. William looked at the eager faces of his sons and Nellie's set expression as she evened out the portions of stew. He glanced at Carrie and noticed how grown-up she had become. He sighed contentedly. Things had been uncomfortable in the yard lately, he felt, and his future there looked uncertain, but it was easy to push all that to the back of his mind as he sat down to eat with his family around him.

Nora Flynn was feeling unhappy as she cleared the table after the evening meal. George had been out two evenings that week - to meet with prospective customers he had said, but Nora felt he was lying to her. When George went out in the evenings to meet clients or future customers, he never took the trap. Usually he would go to a local public house and discuss business over drinks. Handling the trap when he was inebriated was something George did not relish and he had told her as much. Now that he had a lively and spirited animal between the shafts he was even more loath to take the vehicle on his business jaunts, but on the last two occasions he had used the trap and returned comparatively sober. Either George was losing his taste for a tipple or he was dealing with teetotal clients. Nora realised that nothing could be more unlikely. This was something or someone else.

Loud laughter came from the front room where Josephine was entertaining some of her school friends. Nora forced a smile as she put away the washed plates and cutlery. Laughter had been in short supply in the house for a long time, and it was very quiet now that Frank had left to get married and Geoffrey always seemed to be out with his married lady friend. Nora closed the dining-room door and climbed the stairs to her room. The summer evening was drawing in and she gazed down at the long shadows spreading across the quiet square. Her feeling of sadness deepened as she sat down in her favourite armchair and stared out at the evening sky. Her life had been dramatically changed since she and George had become lovers. He had reawakened feelings inside her that she had thought were gone forever. She had felt young and lighthearted again, happy and contented, until the last few weeks.

George seemed to have changed since Frank's wedding. His nocturnal visits to her bed had become less frequent and lately they had exchanged a few harsh words. When she had asked him for a little extra money to buy some lace curtains for the front windows he had suddenly grown angry and stormed out of the room. He seemed to be getting very mean lately, and he had never behaved that way towards her before. Something must have changed him, but what?

Not for the first time she wondered whether there was another woman. Perhaps he had met someone at the wedding reception who had taken his fancy, she thought as she tried to picture the occasion in her mind. He had spoken to many people there but he had been drunk and making a nuisance of himself for a great deal of the time, she recalled. There was one woman though. She had been in his company at the bar and had seemed to be hanging on his every word. Then again, she was with a younger man and had left quite early. Perhaps she was being silly. George was no spring chicken and he was working hard at the business. Perhaps it was she who had become possessive and domineering, forcing him to seek pleasure outside the house.

Nora got up and walked over to the mirror. Evening shadows filled the room and darkened the gla.s.s as she studied her reflection. Slowly and deliberately she removed her hairpins and let her raven hair fall down around her shoulders. It was how George liked it, she brooded as she raised a stiff brush to the tangled tresses. It had taken her some time but she had won the man's affections and now she was resolved that she would fight to keep him. Tonight she would not lie awake and wait for his key in the door and pray for his footsteps on the stairs. Tonight she would beard the lion in his den.

Chapter Twenty-four.

Life in Page Street beyond the yard gates carried on in the usual way as the summer days went past. Canva.s.sers came round and knocked on doors with a pet.i.tion to the local councillors for action over Bacon Street Buildings. Sadie Sullivan wanted her whole family to sign but was informed that only one signature was allowed from each household. She signed twice, once for herself and once on behalf of a make-believe cousin, who lived a few streets away but was visiting and had just popped out to the shops, the pet.i.tioners were solemnly informed. Maggie Jones and Ida Bromsgrove signed with vigour, and Maudie Mycroft peered through her lace curtains to make sure everyone else was signing before she committed herself. 'Yer can't be too careful, Ernest,' she warned her long-suffering husband. 'They could be anarchists.'

Ernest puffed loudly as he tried to read the account of a society scandal. 'That's right, luv,' he answered with a suitable amount of seriousness in his voice. 'Puttin' our names on paper could be tantamount ter treason. Mind yer, if we don't sign the pet.i.tion it could be seen as somefing else an' we could be murdered in our beds.'

Maudie decided that Ernest might have something there and hurried to the door to sign. Dot Argent signed, as did Maisie, Aggie and the redoubtable Florrie Axford. Nellie Tanner put pen to paper and got Jack Oxford and three of the carmen to sign as well.

Billy Sullivan won his latest fight on a knockout and was now a serious contender for the middleweight t.i.tle. Danny Tanner knocked at Billy's house the next morning and got his idol out of bed for his signature so that he could show it off to all the customers. Everybody knows about Page Street now, and when I become British Heavyweight Champion the street will be famous, he told himself, puffing out his narrow chest.

Once again, sheer pluck and devilment served to enhance Florrie Axford's already formidable reputation in the street. It happened a few days after Jake Mitch.e.l.l came to work for Galloway's. Florrie was whitening her front doorstep when Mitch.e.l.l came by, driving his team at a lively pace. She got up off her knees and watched the cart rattle into the main road, a scowl on her thin face.

'They've all bin told ter take it steady till they get out o' the turnin',' she reminded her friend Aggie who was on her way to buy the morning paper.

'Yer right, Flo,' Aggie agreed. 'Nellie Tanner said 'er Will always tells 'em ter mind the kids when they come in an' out o' the street.'

'Well, I'm gonna keep me eye out fer that ugly-looking git,' Florrie vowed. 'I tell yer straight, Aggie, if 'e comes in this street at a gallop ternight I'm gonna go in that yard an' see Galloway 'imself.'

It was nearing five o'clock when Florrie heard the frantic clatter of iron wheels on the cobbles and quickly peered out through her clean lace curtains. Her face darkened as she saw Jake Mitch.e.l.l sitting forward in his seat, his gnarled hands pulling on the reins to slow the fast-moving pair of greys as they went through the yard gates. 'Right, that's it!' she exclaimed aloud to herself as she b.u.t.toned up her coat and pressed her bonnet down on her head.

The noise of the horses cantering into the yard had already alerted William in the upper stable. He hurried down, ready for a confrontation.

'In future don't drive the cart in like that, mister,' he growled. 'I've already told yer the rule 'ere that ses we walk the 'orses down the turnin' 'cos o' the women an' kids.'

Florrie was more vociferous when she reached the yard. 'Oi! You!' she shouted at Mitch.e.l.l as he was climbing down from the cart. 'Next time yer drive that soddin' cart down the turnin', make sure yer not drivin' like the devil's on yer tail ovverwise yer gonna end up killin' somebody.'

Jake Mitch.e.l.l scowled at Florrie and turned his back on her, which only served to infuriate her. 'Oi! Are yer dumb as well as bein' b.l.o.o.d.y stupid then?' she shouted at him.

Mitch.e.l.l rounded on the woman. 'p.i.s.s orf, missus. Why don't yer go 'ome an' nag yer ole man?' he snarled.

Florrie could not contain herself any longer. 'I ain't got no ole man. 'E looked like you, that's why I got rid of 'im,' she screamed, rushing towards him with her fists clenched.

Mitch.e.l.l backed away, surprised by her fury, but before Florrie could reach him William stepped in front of her and took her by the shoulders. 'All right, luv. Calm down,' he said placatingly. 'I'll sort this out. Yer right ter complain, but let me 'andle it.'

Florrie puffed loudly and pressed her hat down on her head. 'All right, Will, but yer better tell 'im straight, ovverwise I'll be straight in ter see Galloway.'

William watched the irate woman march out of the yard then he turned to Mitch.e.l.l, his face dark with anger. 'Next time yer drive in like that yer finished 'ere, understand? An' while I'm about it, yer better get one fing straight. As long as yer a carman 'ere yer don't get no special treatment. Yer take orders jus' like the rest of 'em. If yer got any complaints on that score, yer better see Galloway. Right?'

Mitch.e.l.l matched his foreman's stare. 'I'm not in the 'abit o' takin' that sort o' talk from any woman,' he growled.

'Well, in this case you ain't got no b.l.o.o.d.y choice,' William told him. 'An' I tell yer what - Florrie Axford's as good as gold till she's upset an' then she'll front yer, big as you are. Yer'll do well ter remember that.'

Mitch.e.l.l sneered as he turned his back on William to unhitch his horses and the foreman walked away, feeling better for a confrontation that had been overdue.

Carrie took Tommy's arm as they left the Infirmary and walked slowly along the quiet thoroughfare. The doctor had said that his mother was well enough to go home the following day. Tommy was quiet as they walked under the railway arch and then turned into St James's Road, and Carrie understood what he must be thinking. The chance of their relationship flourishing seemed remote and she was feeling desperate. She needed him, wanted him to love her, and she was prepared to settle for the way things were. The alternative was a sterile friendship that would surely not survive as their normal emotional needs were smothered and withered by circ.u.mstance.

They were pa.s.sing his house on the opposite side of the road. Suddenly she leant her body against his a little, indicating with a subtle pressure that they should cross the road. Tommy instinctively responded and they walked over to his front door. No words were spoken as they entered, and in the darkness of the pa.s.sage she went to him, moulding her body against his and entwining her arms around his neck. Her lips searched for his and with a deep shuddering sigh she pressed her mouth to his. She had boldly seized the initiative, feeling that the time had come. She was ready, a willing partner, urging and guiding his searching hands until he was fully roused. There could be no going back now.

His lips were on her now. She could feel the deliciousness of his mouth wet against her neck, kissing her ears, her closed eyes, and brushing her soft throat. His arm slipped around her waist as he led her slowly into his bedroom and suddenly she was in his arms, poised above the bed. Tommy moved forward and his lips were hard on hers as they fell backwards, down on to the soft covers. Carrie was gasping, urging him on. She felt a short, sharp pain as he groaned above her. She was his now, and moaned as the ecstatic pleasure of his loving flowed through her willing, trembling body.

Horace Gallagher was alone in the office as he turned back the pages of the bound ledger and glanced at the entries. It seemed to him that the whole of his past life was represented there in the bold, sloping handwriting in purple ink. He saw the entry for two hard-bristle yard brooms dated 1905 and a faint smile came to his face. Galloway had made a fuss over that purchase, he recalled. Why two brushes when there was only one yard sweeper? he had argued. Lower down the page Horace noted the sale of one dozen Irish Draughts to the Royal Artillery and had a vision of women lining the street and Nellie Tanner marching up to the hosepipe with a chopper in her hand. It was all there, he thought. Stories hidden behind dates and figures. Another entry caught his eye and Horace rested his chin on his hand. 'Collection and transport of one carca.s.s' the entry read. He had never thought of himself as a horse lover but that docile little Welsh cob had been everyone's favourite animal. He remembered young Carrie Tanner sitting on its back when she was small and how she had sobbed uncontrollably when it died of colitis. Horace turned the pages which marked the pa.s.sage of the years. There were entries for sale and purchase of horses, carts and animal foodstuffs, and one entry near the front of the book back in 1895 which read simply, 'One small wreath, John Flynn'.

Horace closed the ledger and stood it on the shelf beside the rents and wages ledgers. It was all there, he reflected. More than twenty years of his life spent setting down in ink the progression of George Galloway and Sons, Cartage Contractor and Horse Trader. The ledger would one day be filled to the last line of the last page, he thought with a smile, and wondered who might be sitting there writing in it. Eventually all the books would be gathering dust on dark shelves until some time when they were taken down and pored over out of idle curiosity. The elderly accountant reached forward and pulled a sheet of plain paper towards him and then unscrewed the cap of his fountain pen. For a while he stared down at the blank sheet of paper, and then he leant forward low over the desk and started to write in his flowing style.

At thirty minutes past the hour of four Horace Gallagher closed and locked his desk and stood the sealed envelope against the sloping lid. Then he put on his coat, and following the habit of a lifetime, b.u.t.toned it from top to bottom before donning his trilby and taking up his beechwood cane. As he walked out of the yard, Jack Oxford called out goodnight but Horace did not hear him. He walked slowly along the turning and touched the brim of his hat to Florrie Axford as he pa.s.sed her. At the end of the street Horace stopped and turned to face the darkness towards the yard gates, then set off on his usual walk to London Bridge Station.

Trams clattered past and people were spilling out of the offices in Tooley Street as he walked in the shadow of the high railway arches and reached the steep flight of steps that led to the station forecourt. Horace climbed them slowly with his head held low, ignoring the young men who dashed past him taking the stairs two at a time. There was no hurry, he thought. The trains were frequent at this time of day.

The platform was packed with tired, jaded workers. Horace stood with his back resting against the waiting-room wall, not seeing their blank faces. Another day, another shilling, he thought, smiling to himself.

The station announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeaker and pa.s.sengers moved forward as the four-fifty-five drew into the station. Elbows were raised and shoulder pressed against shoulder as workers stood abreast, each attempting to be first into the carriages. Horace waited and as the train drew out of the station he started to tap his foot with the tip of his cane. Trains are frequent this time of day, he told himself once more. When the next train announcement came over the loudspeaker he moved forward, and as the four-fifty-nine to Sidcup drew into the station Horace Gallagher threw himself under the wheels.

The afternoon was mild, with feathery clouds wafting across a blue sky, as George Galloway sat back in his trap and let the gelding set a lively pace. He was looking forward to what promised to be a very pleasurable afternoon, and whistled tunelessly to himself as he drove along Brixton Road. Bringing Jake Mitch.e.l.l back to Bermondsey was a very good idea he told himself, and the sooner the fights got under way the better. The gold pendant resting in his waistcoat pocket had cost a packet, and so had the bangle he had given Rose only last week. She did not like cheap, gawdy jewellery and she had been very pleased with her expensive gift, promising to keep it out of sight whenever her elderly patron was on the scene. She would be pleased with the pendant. Maybe he had been a bit extravagant, but it didn't matter.

Rose had turned out to be quite a catch. He had not been disappointed in her. She was all woman, with a highly developed carnal appet.i.te and a taste for adventure. Their mutually enjoyable afternoons were becoming quite a feature of his life and so far Rose had been very discreet. Her provider was happy to keep her in the fashion she was accustomed to, and seemed none the wiser. He visited her during the evenings, business permitting, and she was left free to pursue her own interests during the day. George grinned to himself as he neared Rose's house in Acre Lane. A woman like her needed much more than her elderly provider could give her, he thought smugly, and it seemed only right that he should be given a little help with the lady.

George pulled the trap up outside the ostler's yard opposite Rose's house and gave the man his usual half a crown to take care of the horse and vehicle, then crossed the road and let himself in through the front door. The arrangement was a good one, he gloated. Each Tuesday and Friday afternoon Rose's patron attended board meetings and there was no possibility of their being disturbed by his unexpected arrival. Rose had given George a key and a time which he strictly adhered to. He smiled to himself as he hurried up to her flat on the first floor and knocked gently on the door. Rose always wore a flimsy nightdress under a wrap when she greeted him, and he was usually rewarded with a big hug as he stepped through the doorway.

This time George was disappointed. The door was opened by a large young man who casually grabbed him by the coat lapels and pulled him roughly over the threshold. George found himself standing in the middle of the room looking down at his tearful mistress. Beside her stood a distinguished-looking gentleman, immaculately dressed in a grey suit and derby hat to match. He wore spats over his black patent shoes and was holding a silver-topped cane. The young man stood to one side, eyeing George malevolently, hands tucked into his coat pockets.