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have to pay. And I explain this to them. I sit them down and explain it to them, and I let them decide if they want my dough. And if they do, if they go away and think about it and come back and say: Henry, you’re the lender for me, all I get is a verbal agreement. There’s nothing to sign, see. I don’t take their pension books, their child allowance books, nothing like that. Because I’m a man of principle. I just hand over the money and we shake on it and they give me their word they’ll come through each week. Their word is their bond, I tell myself. Sound people, I tell myself. A promise made is a promise kept, I tell myself. Am I right?’
    ‘Yeah, but . . . ’
    ‘So if someone takes my money, freely takes my money, and all I want is the interest, the percentage interest he agreed to pay, the five percent he gave his word he’d pay, is that unreasonable? Is it? I’m asking.’
    ‘It’s not.’
    ‘Too right, it’s not. What’s unreasonable is some people, people who don’t open their windows, people who live in smelly flats, thinking they don’t have to pay what they ought to pay. People who think they can keep my cash. That’s what I call unreasonable.’
    Joe shifted in his chair.
    ‘You know you’ll get it,’ he muttered.
    ‘I know that, son. I just don’t know when. And it’s the when that counts, see. It’s the when that matters.’
    Henry wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.
    ‘Don’t tell me you can’t manage, that’s all. Just go for a walk one night, stick your fist through a car window and take the stereo. Then sell it down the pub. Then do the same the next night, and the night after that, until you’ve got enough to pay what you owe. Then whatever you make will be profit. Whatever you make, you’ll be getting ahead. You’ve got a duty to your lady, Joe, and you’re falling down on your duty. You’ve got to feed her, clothe her, get a decent car, live in a better neighbourhood, mix with smarter people. You’ve got to start acting like you’re someone, Joe. Start taking what you need, and then you’ll get respect.’
    Henry paused for breath. Good speech that, he told himself. Deserves appreciation. He glanced at Mervyn, but Mervyn wasn’t listening. Mervyn was eating custard creams, to which he seemed quite partial. Joe was staring at the carpet, saying nothing, there being nothing much to say. Donna was bending over the table, stacking dishes, nice and docile.
    The Fatman picked up his empty plate.
    ‘Want some help, there, darling?’
    Moving swiftly across the carpet. Very light on his feet, for such a heavy man. Very quick off the mark, for such a bulky chap. She brushed past him.
    ‘No.’
    He followed her into the kitchen.
    ‘It’s no bother,’ he said. ‘I like mucking in.’
    He watched her hold each dish under the cold tap for a few seconds.
    ‘That how you wash up?’
    She shook water off her hands.
    ‘Domesticated, aren’t you?’ he observed. He passed her the dishcloth. ‘Make someone a nice little housekeeper.’
    He bent towards her.
    ‘You ever need a job,’ he said, ‘you know where to come.’
    The milky breath in her face.
    ‘Excuse me,’ she said.
    She stepped past him and began stacking crockery in a plastic rack.
    He took her by the waist and turned her round to face him.
    ‘Just for once,’ he said, ‘just for today,’ he said, ‘I want you to pretend you like me.’
    She gazed at him for several seconds.
    ‘But I don’t like you, Henry.’
    And something flickered in his eyes, but he kept on smiling. He lifted her chin and kissed her wetly on the mouth, and she felt the warm sweat on his face and the hard bulge between his legs.
    ‘That’s my girl,’ he smiled. ‘My Donna-girl.’
    Pressing up so tight she had to brace herself against the wall to shove him off. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
    ‘Don’t be like that,’ he said quietly. ‘Be nice, you bitch.’
    He wrapped his fingers round her