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feet but Grenwood suddenly stopped speaking. His glance had slid past me and was fixed on someone standing behind me. I turned, looked over my shoulder.
    It’s more than thirty years ago, you know, but the odd thing is I can still see her in my mind’s eye, even after all these years. She was no more than eighteen, I guessed. She had soft brown hair that lay curling about her face, and she was dressed carefully in a becoming fashion, a white silk bonnet trimmed with ribbon, light cotton gown and a grey cloak. Her eyes were wide, dark incolour, and her complexion was fair, but she had applied a little too much rouge to her cheeks, and there were dark rings under her eyes. She was dressed for a night out in the West End, showing a fine bosom, but her mouth was edged with unhappiness , and in her eyes there was a mingling of anxiety, anger and sadness. She stood there silently, eyeing Grenwood and the dollymop in his arms, clearly distressed.
    ‘Harriet,’ Grenwood said after a moment, with an unpleasant sneer. ‘Sweet Harriet … come and join us! Here you are, James, here’s company.’
    The young woman’s glance slid away from the girl Grenwood was caressing, to look briefly at me. She shook her head, almost helplessly, turned back to Grenwood. ‘No, not tonight. I came… I would like a word with you, Lester.’
    Crosier Hilliard snorted, glanced at Grenwood and giggled in a high falsetto. ‘
Lester
, hey?’
    ‘Come and join us,’ Grenwood insisted roughly, nettled at Hilliard’s jibe. ‘You can take your pick of the company. I’m already engaged of course, but there’s James here – or there’s the old ruffian on the floor, if you can wake him up before morning.’ He laughed uproariously. ‘Get him into a hansom cab and you could turn out his pockets and he wouldn’t know a thing about it. Or take him back to his chambers in Serjeants Inn and you could dun him for all he’s got!’ He eyed her with an insulting calculation. ‘Now that could bring you a far better fee than you’d be accustomed to.’
    She started as though slapped. ‘Lester, please.’
    The girl’s voice was low and urgent. I watched her. Her hands clutched at the handkerchief at her waist, and her eyes were pleading with Grenwood.
    ‘Please what? You want a word? Have as many as you desire! We’re all friends together. Come and join us. James here, by the way, is an up-and-coming man of the law and you’d be well advised—’
    I was sober enough to feel irritated. ‘I’m leaving, Grenwood,’ I snapped curtly. I was uneasy about the girl and disliked Grenwood’s tone with her.
    ‘Lester, please, I’d like a word in private.’ The girl was near to tears.
    Grenwood shook his head. ‘Harriet, sweet Harriet, I’m having a good time. I’m not inclined to be interrupted at my leisure. You can’t come in here with a mournful look and expect me to walk outside with you, when I’ve other arrangements in hand.’ He grinned at the bold-eyed dollymop beside him and plunged his hand into the top of her dress, jiggled her breasts roughly while she squealed and wriggled in mock distress. He looked back challengingly at the woman in front of him. ‘So, if you don’t want to join us and look after James here, or the old sot on the floor, well, then get out of here!’
    She blinked and there was the glistening of tears on her cheeks. ‘Lester, I—’
    ‘Lester, Lester, Lester … who gave you permission to use my name freely in public?’ Grenwood snarled. His eyes were suddenly filled with a cold fury and his tone was contemptuous. ‘How clearly do I have to give you the message? I’m busy; I’m having a good time with friends.
New
friends,’ he added emphatically, as he pulled at the girl beside him, hugged her to him fiercely, until she gasped in open-mouthed protest. ‘You’ve had your time with me, Harriet, and for a while it was a good time, but it’s over. You begin to bore me with your whining, you hear? So I’m