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his so-called mates. He was a charmer, a robber and, on occasions, he was a thief. There was a subtle difference between a robber and a thief; a robber was respected, they robbed banks, building societies or post offices. That was an acceptable occupation in his world. A thief, however, was a completely different entity. A thief was looked down on by everyone, even by the Old Bill. A thief stole from those who couldn’t afford it. A thief would scrump anything they came across, a thief was so low they would nick off their own, which was why they were so hated. Thieves were without any kind of conscience, they took what they wanted from anyone in their orbit without any kind of care or distinction. They were vilified by their contemporaries because they were so untrustworthy and so devious.
    A thief was the lowest of the low. And young Parks was lower than anyone actually realised. He was a natural-born grifter, if he saw something he liked, he skanked it. A necklace, a ring, a wallet. He would take it without any remorse whatsoever. He was sensible enough, though, to keep his thieving to himself. He was an emerging Face, a robber, and he loved the kudos of that. He saw himself in the future with a good few quid, a decent motor, a few kids, and with a nice bird who was sensible enough to turn a blind eye to his misdemeanours. Life, he decided, was good, and it could only get better.
    Imelda Dooley and her predicament was not his problem; she knew the score. She was sensible enough to know that he was not about to hire a fucking dirty great big white charger to gallop round her house so he could offer her any kind of security. No, she needed to get shot of her bellyful of arms and legs, put it down to experience, wipe her mouth, and get on with her life like he intended to get on with his.
    She was a fucking mug if she thought he was going to stand by her, she was a lovely little shag granted, but not worth any real upset. He knew her kind, she would be taking on all comers within eighteen months.
    He had erased Imelda from his life within minutes, as he had erased many a girl before her. She was a distant memory now, as far as he was concerned, and he trusted her to understand that, and accept it like many another before her.
    Sighing happily, he put her out of his mind once more, making a mental note to avoid her mate Belinda like the proverbial plague for a few weeks. What was it with birds? They always seemed to have a fat, ugly mate to do their dirty work for them. Though he wouldn’t kick poor old Belinda out of bed, the ugly ones were always very grateful and they were also more likely to let him have a perve-up. The good-lookers knew their worth and expected to be treated accordingly. The Belindas of this world, however, needed a party piece to make them stand out from the crowd and get a bit of attention now and again, and he knew that Belinda was right up for it, even though she acted like a fucking wilting virgin. Jason grinned, he’d have his hands down her drawers before the month was out.
    Imelda and her mother had somehow become conspirators. Since her father’s reaction to her pregnancy, they had seen a side to him that neither had known existed. He spoke to no one, he would not sit in the same room as his daughter, and he refused to discuss the situation with his wife. The worst thing of all though, was his insistence that the child be terminated. ‘Flush the bastard away’, was his only opinion on the subject. To his wife this was worse than anything else, that he wanted them to become party to a mortal sin. The boys as always took his part, took their lead from him. Gerald wanted the name of the father; he wanted to know who had taken his daughter’s virginity. Though, in all honesty, Mary wasn’t sure that Imelda losing her virginity was something that had happened that recently.
    Her husband wanted the name of the man who had brought his family into disrepute, brought shame on them. Because that was