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– Girls! Girls! Girls!’ If Alex hadn’t already guessed that she was looking at a cathouse, she did the moment she saw the women sunning themselves on the porch.
    They were in their underwear! Or less. There were bare shoulders and bosoms and legs wherever she looked. Beneath her mask of soot and dirt, she blushed with shame for them.
    â€˜Morning, honey,’ one of the women called suggestively, catching sight of Alex standing in the street open-mouthed, staring at them. ‘Fancy a tickle?’
    There was a burst of laughter.
    â€˜Oh Flora, he ain’t old enough to know how to use it yet.’
    â€˜Don’t listen to her,’ Flora called down to Alex, winking. ‘You don’t have to do anything – just let nature take its course.’
    â€˜Which at your age won’t take long at all!’ another woman hooted, setting them all off squawking.
    Alex was mortified.
    â€˜Leave him be,’ the oldest of them said, fanning herself lazily. ‘You looking for someone, honey? Your pa maybe?’
    The thought of Pa Sparrow in a place like Dolly’s made Alex blanch. He wouldn’t have gone within a stone’s throw of such an establishment, and he would have been scandalised to think that his foster daughter was talking to a whore. Imagining his disapproving scowl, she felt she should turn on her heel and leave. But, to her own astonishment, she didn’t.
    â€˜I’m looking for Luke Slater.’ The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was doing.
    There seemed to be a collective sigh among the whores. Certainly there was a wave of white flesh rising and falling.
    â€˜Just go upstairs and wake him, honey. He’s asleep in Seline’s room.’
    Go upstairs? Into the house?
    Alex’s skin burned at the thought . . . at the same time she was deeply curious as to what the inside of a whorehouse looked like. For some reason she pictured thick carpets and chandeliers, velvet and satin and mirrors.
    She was bitterly disappointed.
    Dolly’s was as raw as the rest of the town – fresh-hewn unpainted timber, where the nail heads glinted, still bright silver and new. And it was a pigsty. No-one had bothered to clean up after the night’s entertainment: the spittoons were full and there were empty glasses on every spare surface. The whole place smelled of stale sweat, cigar smoke and something else she couldn’t name.
    She picked her way through the scattered chairs and made her way up to the second floor, where she paused, nervous. The woman hadn’t mentioned which room he was in. Seline’s room. Which one was that? There were more than half a dozen doors along the landing and down the corridor.
    Gathering her courage, she knocked on the first one. When there was no answer she poked her head in. It was empty. Even more nervous now, she tried the next.
    â€˜Let a girl get some sleep!’ a woman moaned, pulling a pillow over her face. ‘Ain’t it enough that you’re at me all night, do you have to be at me all day too?’
    â€˜I’m just looking for Seline’s room,’ Alex stammered.
    â€˜Two doors down.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ Alex closed the door hurriedly.
    When she reached Seline’s door she paused. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her chest felt tight. It suddenly occurred to her that they might not be sleeping . . .
    Before she could chicken out she knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again. Silence. Should she look in or not? Did the silence mean that the room was empty, or that they were asleep, or something else altogether?
    Swallowing hard, she eased the door open and peered through the crack.
    He was in there alright. She’d know that broad back anywhere.
    Didn’t the man ever wear clothes?
    He was sprawled on his stomach, with his face buried in a pillow. Slowly Alex’s gaze traced the contours of his body beneath the