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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