Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Think of the Children / Playing with Fire / Thicker Than Water"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 46 (всего у книги 56 страниц)

15

Jessica had no idea how much time Nicholas Long spent at his club – or even which days he was there – but a quick phone call to his house while posing as the secretary of an industrial cleaning company had easily snared her the information. Whoever it was that told her Nicholas was already at the club ‘where he always is’ hadn’t seemed concerned about giving out private information to a stranger.

Jessica caught the bus into the city centre and walked to the club, which looked different in daylight. In the evening, the pink and black combination, along with the neon, had made it seem marginally more upmarket. In the fading sunlight, it just looked grubby, with grit and dirt on the bottom parts of the glass and smeared handprints along the top half. It didn’t appear as if it had been cleaned any time recently.

She tried the front door but it was locked, so she pressed the buzzer next to it. She could hear the whirring sound from inside but there was no answer, so she tried again before resorting to holding the button in until finally Nicholas’s voice crackled through.

He didn’t even bother trying to hide his annoyance. ‘Who is it?’ he growled.

‘Chinese takeaway.’

‘Wrong place.’ The device fizzled quiet, so Jessica held the button in again. ‘I told you, you’ve got the wrong place,’ the voice thundered.

Jessica read him the address above the door, adding: ‘Shall I put it through the letterbox?’

Perhaps fearing more cleaning up, Nicholas quickly interjected: ‘Just wait there, I’ll come down.’

Jessica leant on the glass in the smuggest way she could. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, both because she had been told to stay out of the Serious Crime Division’s business and also because of the type of person Nicholas clearly was. But she wanted to push him, to see if he would reveal something he’d prefer to have kept to himself. She sensed his connection to Kayleigh and Eleanor would be crucial somewhere, despite everything happening such a long time ago.

As the door opened, Nicholas poked his head out, peering in the opposite direction before noticing her.

‘You?’ His face was redder than it had been the previous time they had met, his skin wobbling in anger and confusion.

‘Did you miss me?’

He looked the other way, perhaps wondering if there was anyone else with her. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I thought I’d drop in for a chat.’

Nicholas stepped outside the club, still holding the door open. ‘I told you to make an appointment. I’ve had enough of you lot harassing me.’

Jessica stood up straighter and smiled. ‘I’m not harassing, I’m haranguing, there’s a difference.’

‘I can complain, you know, I’ve got rights.’

Jessica walked towards him, sliding under his arm and through the door. She had moved with such confidence that Nicholas hadn’t reacted. By the time he let go of the door, she was already halfway along the corridor towards reception.

‘Where are you going, hey, stop . . .’

Jessica didn’t turn but she could hear Nicholas spluttering behind her as he closed the door and followed. Despite her bravado, she was relieved not to hear the clicking sound of the lock.

She continued through to the bar area and hopped onto a stool, spinning to face the out-of-breath and very red-faced man as he caught up, looking every inch like someone in a government health warning advert that involved dramatic music and words like ‘cholesterol’ and ‘chronic heart problems’.

By the time Nicholas had reached her, his eyes were wide with fury and he barely managed to gasp: ‘This is trespassing.’

‘You held the door open for me.’

‘I did not.’

Jessica raised her eyebrows in mock bewilderment. ‘That’s what it looked like. I thought you were inviting me in.’

Nicholas stared at her for a few seconds before finally recovering his composure. ‘I told you I like them feisty.’

He licked his lips and reached out to touch Jessica’s arm but she slapped him away. ‘Are you going to offer me a drink?’

Nicholas was still breathing heavily as she took a moment to fully observe how large he was. Some people held their weight well but the club’s owner certainly didn’t. She could see the dark material of his suit straining around his thighs and belly. His top shirt buttons were undone most likely because he couldn’t have fastened them even if he’d wanted to. The remaining hair he did have was greasily spread across his head, his teeth were yellow and crooked. He really was one of the most repulsive men Jessica had ever been close to and she struggled to hide her disgust.

As he regarded her, she could see the interest in his eyes that went beyond anything professional. If she was a man, she would have been kicked out by now. It was why she hadn’t brought Rowlands or anyone else with her. Sometimes being a woman was her biggest advantage.

Seemingly making his mind up to play the game she had started, Nicholas walked around the bar and picked up a small glass, flipping it over and reaching under the counter before pulling out a bottle of whisky. A golden ribbon was wrapped around the centre with a row of stars underneath proclaiming the number of years it had spent distilling. ‘I don’t leave this on display,’ he said, pouring himself a drink. ‘Same for you?’

Jessica knew she had to be careful but also wanted him to talk. With a smile, she raised herself up from the stool, leaning across to pick up the man’s glass and taking a large sip before putting it on the counter in front of her.

She tried not to grimace as it burned her throat on the way down. Christ, it was horrible, like drinking paraffin, she assumed – though she’d never tried it. Why did anyone drink this stuff?

She gasped a ‘Cheers.’

Nicholas stared on incredulously before reaching under the counter to take a second glass and fill it. ‘Feisty,’ he purred, making Jessica’s stomach churn in a way that wasn’t simply down to the alcohol.

‘Do you know how much this costs a bottle?’ he added. When it was clear that Jessica wasn’t going to respond, he answered his own question. ‘Four hundred quid. I get it brought down especially from Scotland. They have only made three dozen bottles each year for the past forty years. There’s a waiting list.’

Jessica didn’t know if he was genuinely trying to impress her, or if he couldn’t stop himself from boasting. Four hundred quid? She could have boiled some vinegar and it would have tasted the same. She was definitely in the wrong business. ‘It tastes the same as any other whisky I’ve ever had.’

Nicholas downed his drink in one and refilled it. ‘There’s no accounting for taste.’ He pointed towards her glass and, against her better judgement, Jessica nodded, watching as he poured another triple into it.

‘So why are you here, Ms Daniel?’

Jessica felt unnerved that he had remembered her name, although not entirely surprised. ‘I want to have the same chat as before.’

Nicholas put down the bottle and pulled a stool towards him, flopping onto it and wriggling uncomfortably, like an overweight frog. Even over the bar, Jessica could see he was far too big for it.

‘I thought I’d told you that I didn’t know anything about the two women you mentioned. I’ve employed a lot of people.’

Jessica picked up her glass and took another sip. ‘But you remember the women, don’t you?’

Nicholas grinned, almost seeming pleased that she thought that. ‘Who says that?’

‘I do.’

He nodded, still shifting on the stool. ‘I don’t think you’re as clever as you think you are.’

Jessica had another drink. Each time the liquid dribbled down her throat, it felt a little less harsh, to the point that she didn’t even have to stifle pulling a face. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? ‘Why don’t you tell me about Kayleigh and Ellie?’

Nicholas raised himself, finally giving up on balancing his enormous backside on the stool and instead leaning on the bar. ‘How about you tell me about yourself first?’

Jessica shook her head but he pointed towards her ring finger. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she downed the rest of the drink, swilling the liquid around in her mouth and using the glass to mask her face. She returned it to the counter with a bang and nodded towards the bottle. ‘No one you’d know.’

Nicholas poured her another generous measure, before refilling his own glass. ‘Aah, but I know all men.’

‘Really?’

He put down the bottle and used both hands to point around the room. ‘Who do you think pays for all of this – and everything else? You should never trust a man.’

Jessica thought of what had been happening with Adam recently, wondering why she hadn’t been able to pick up his phone and have a look when she had the chance. She stayed calm, enjoying the gentle burning at the back of her throat.

‘Is that right . . . ?’

‘While you’re working late doing whatever it is you do, he’s probably in here drinking my drink and touching up my women.’

‘Your women?’

Nicholas grinned and nodded. ‘My women.’

Jessica could hear the menace in his voice and knew that was exactly how he thought of the females who worked for him. ‘Were Ellie and Kayleigh your women?’

For a moment, she thought she saw his eyebrow twitch, as it had done the previous time they had met, but he reached forward and picked up his glass, taking another large mouthful. Jessica copied him, holding the dark liquid in her mouth and feeling the fumes drifting through her.

She was already light-headed.

Nicholas met her eyes. ‘They were good-looking when they were young.’

‘What else?’

Nicholas still refused to look away. ‘Nothing, that’s all I remember.’ He lifted the bottle again, daring her to accept.

Jessica picked up her glass and downed what was left, putting it back on the bar and nodding. Nicholas poured until the bottle was almost empty, tipping the rest into his own glass, before turning and throwing it into a large plastic container at the end of the bar. Four hundred quid gone, just like that.

‘I want to see your employment records,’ Jessica said.

Nicholas laughed. ‘Do you now?’

‘Yes.’

He nodded, as if weighing up the request, although she knew he would refuse. Jessica was fighting to keep her eyes level, knowing the alcohol was hitting her hard. She rarely drank spirits, let alone so quickly. Her eyelids had felt tired before she had come and now they were even heavier.

‘You’re not going anywhere near my files.’

‘What if I already have a warrant?’

For the first time since he had begun drinking, Nicholas faltered. A small amount of whisky sloshed onto the counter as he wobbled, clumsily putting down his glass. ‘Why would you have one of those?’

‘How about if I told you one of those women had died?’

Jessica couldn’t tell if she was giving him new information as there was a grey haze around her eyes that stopped her from completely taking in his reaction. He didn’t seem particularly surprised.

Before he could reply, Jessica noticed a dribble of blood run from his nostril across his bottom lip. Nicholas quickly reached up to touch his face, recoiling as he saw the blood on his hands. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, not again,’ he slurred, turning and picking up a napkin from the back counter of the bar.

He dabbed at his face before balling up the tissue and tossing it in a nearby bin. He touched his nostril a few times to ensure it had stopped and then turned back to Jessica.

‘What was that?’ she asked.

‘Nothing. I get them, it’s fine.’ He licked the tip of his finger, where a small amount of blood had dried, then wiped it on his trousers.

Jessica wanted to stand to assert some degree of authority as Nicholas was faltering but her head didn’t feel clear enough to attempt to get up. Instead she tried to focus on the label of a bottle hanging behind the bar. She forced her eyes to concentrate but was struggling to figure out what was wrong, before realising it was hanging upside down in the optics. The fact she hadn’t noticed that in the first place was worrying in itself but Jessica couldn’t stop herself giggling slightly.

Nicholas stared at her, clearly thinking she was laughing at him. ‘I don’t believe you’ve got a warrant or anything else,’ he said.

‘What would you bet on that? Imagine what else they might find. Or you could just tell me what I want to know.’

Jessica couldn’t tell if she was slurring her words. To her they sounded fine, but she had enough sense to know she was already more drunk than she had been in a very long time. She picked up the half-full glass and could see Nicholas staring at it, daring her to finish what was left, probably thirty quid’s worth.

‘Feisty,’ he said with a smile, although Jessica could tell the alcohol had hit him too as his eyes were flickering off to one side and lacking focus.

Jessica drank half of what was in the glass and then stared into the remaining brown liquid, her head spinning. She hadn’t expected this.

‘They both quit at the same time,’ Nicholas said suddenly. He was trying to force himself back onto the stool he had previously given up on and looked as if he could collapse to the floor at any moment. Eventually he abandoned the idea, leaning against a sink at the back of the bar. ‘I checked my files and they both left together.’

‘On the same day?’

Nicholas shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

Jessica knew they had left at roughly the same time but this was the first she’d heard about them going together as neither Eleanor nor Kayleigh had volunteered that. She wondered if they had been deliberately evasive and, if so, whether that had somehow cost Kayleigh her life.

‘Do you remember them?’

‘I always remember the pretty ones.’

Nicholas was slurring his words further. Instead of sounding sinister, it was pathetic. Jessica felt a rush of confidence. ‘What do you know about them now?’

He shook his head dismissively. ‘Nothing, the minute they walk, they’re dead to me.’

An unfortunate choice of words, Jessica thought. ‘Why did they leave at the same time?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Was it something to do with you?’

Nicholas tried to meet Jessica’s gaze but she could see his eyelids drooping. ‘I always look after my own.’

‘What sort of job would they have been doing in your casino?’

‘All they had to do was keep the punters inside.’

‘How did they manage to do that?’

Jessica wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer but it came anyway. ‘They just had to look pretty. You’d be amazed by how long you can keep someone interested and spending money if there’s a short skirt involved.’ He paused, giggling: ‘Maybe you can ask your fella about that? Is he a leg man? Breast?’

She picked up her drink and finished the rest in one, not wanting to think about Adam. ‘If that was the case, how come you closed the place a few years later?’

Jessica could tell Nicholas was angry because he tried to speak quickly but his words skewed into each other, becoming a rant about regulations, the council and ‘you lot’.

‘Did you pay them well?’ Jessica asked, trying to bring the conversation back to the women.

She was now feeling so self-assured that she shifted from her stool into a standing position but instantly realised it was a mistake, having to put both hands on the bar to stop herself stumbling. Nicholas noticed and she could see him smiling, although he wasn’t moving very much either. Jessica tightly gripped the rail that ran around the bar and steadied herself but it was too late and the room was spinning. She tried to focus on the same bottle as before, telling herself it was upside down and that her head would clear if she could only distinguish the letters. Instead, she could barely figure out which bottle was which among the row of optics.

She glanced across to see if Nicholas had noticed but he seemed to be swaying too, although Jessica couldn’t tell for sure if that was him or her. She knew it was time to leave and took one step towards the ramp that led back to the reception area but her feet felt sluggish and unresponsive. The bright green fire exit sign above the door in the distance gave her something to head for, even though the grey mist was swirling around her vision.

‘Where are you going?’

Jessica could hear Nicholas calling behind her but didn’t look back as there was a crash of something, or someone, falling to the floor. Instead, she focused on the sign, walking as quickly as her head would allow.

Jessica tapped her pocket to ensure her phone was still there, fumbling as she tried to remove it. She allowed herself to bump shoulder-first into the wall of the corridor that led outside. She couldn’t figure out a way to make her fingers fit into the pocket of her jacket and gave up, instead using them to feel her way towards the door.

It was silent behind her as Jessica’s hands closed around the door handle and pulled it towards her. As she opened the door, she thought the outside air might help clear her head but it had the opposite effect, the chill hitting her hard and making everything whirl again.

Jessica staggered away from the club, unable to recall if she closed the door, but remembering the sensation of the cool glass on her fingers. She used her hands to trace the brickwork and windows of the nearby buildings until eventually she found herself in the public square. The cobbles were rough under her feet and the hum of shoppers hurrying through the streets made her feel even dizzier. As she tried to sit on one of the benches, Jessica felt as if she was falling, hanging onto the wooden back for support, before finally managing to settle. She could see the outlines of people: grey bustling dreamlike shapes, but nothing was in focus.

Trying again, Jessica finally managed to pull her phone out of her pocket. The screen was painfully bright and her fingers wouldn’t do what her brain was telling them to. It took what seemed like an age of pressing the wrong buttons before she finally managed to call Izzy.

By the time she had lifted the phone to her ear, the other woman was already talking to her. ‘Jess?’

‘Izzzzzzzz . . .’

Even through her smog of thoughts, Jessica could tell the constable was frantic. ‘Are you okay? I’ve been waiting for your call to say you were out and was about to tell Jack.’

Jessica took a few moments to take in the string of words. She knew things were bad when she could hear herself slurring a reply. ‘I’m at Albert Square, come get me.’

16

The beeping of the alarm on Jessica’s phone made her jump awake as she instinctively reached towards the bedside table to turn it off. The moment she moved a stinging sensation thundered through her head. She scrambled around the surface of the table but couldn’t locate the source of the sound, before reluctantly – and painfully – opening her eyes. The screen of her phone was flashing brightly on the floor and she stretched to pick it up, stabbing at the front until the noise stopped, and then dropping it on the bed next to her. Where was a sodding blunt object when she needed one?

Jessica closed her eyes again and rolled onto her back, reaching for the duvet cover and pulling it tight around her, trying to suppress a shiver.

She could remember flashes from the previous afternoon: the club, Nicholas . . . whisky. As the thought popped into her mind, she could taste the liquid again, suppressing a gag as it hit the back of her throat. Jessica screwed her eyes tighter but the memories were swirling vividly. She remembered the cold breeze and sitting on a bench and then Izzy arriving and helping her into a car. After that, she didn’t know.

Wondering what time it was, Jessica reached out a hand to feel for Adam on his side of the bed. It was empty, so she assumed he must have left for work, although she didn’t want to open her eyes to see the actual time. She realised she was going to be late and hoped she had either cleared it already, or that Izzy would have done something for her.

Thank God for Izzy.

Jessica felt her body shivering and realised it wasn’t the cold – instead it was the fear from the previous day finally catching up with her. She remembered the way Nicholas looked at her and how he had licked his lips as if she was something he had ordered. She had been full of bravado because that was the only way to deal with men like that; beat them at their own game. Jessica pulled the duvet over her head. She could rarely remember being so scared: Nicholas was a dangerous man and she had used the fact she was a woman to try to toy with him.

She could remember her dreams from the night before more clearly than she could recall what had actually happened at the club. In her mind, Adam had been there too sitting at the bar with Nicholas, laughing and leering at half-naked girls.

Jessica tried to tell herself it was only a dream but her head was throbbing, her mind a mess of reality and nightmares. She tried to forget how terrified she had been but, before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown off the covers and was running towards the bathroom with a hand over her mouth.

When her eyes finally felt as if they were working, Jessica was relieved to find two text messages from Izzy on her phone. The first told her not to bother hurrying in and that Cole didn’t mind, the second simply had three words: ‘They quit together’.

The message was enough for Jessica to remember everything Nicholas had told her about Kayleigh and Eleanor.

There was also one from Adam, saying he hadn’t wanted to wake her but that he would see her later. Jessica deleted it, bashing the screen in fury at the fact his name had the gall to appear. She didn’t know if she was angry at him because of the dream she’d had, or because of everything else.

Aspirin, water and a morning moping on the balcony were enough for Jessica to finally start feeling like herself. As she sat with her feet on the railing outside watching the people underneath, Jessica phoned Izzy just after midday.

The constable answered straight away. ‘Jess, are you okay?’

‘I’ve been better.’

‘Did you get my messages? You don’t have to come in today, I told Jack you were feeling ill.’

‘Did you tell him about Nicholas?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

Izzy stumbled over her reply. ‘What happened? Obviously you’d been drinking . . .’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘You told me to remind you that Eleanor and Kayleigh left at the same time but that was all. I couldn’t understand a word you were saying.’

‘I knew it would only be a matter of time before I picked the Mancunian accent up.’ Jessica laughed but the other end of the line was silent.

‘Why didn’t you ask someone else to talk to him with you?’

‘He wouldn’t have spoken to anyone else.’

‘But you could have been hurt.’

Jessica could feel a lump at the back of her throat and swallowed hard. ‘I told you where I was. You knew what to do if I hadn’t called by a certain time.’

The constable’s voice was quieter as she replied. ‘Yes, but anything could have happened in that time.’

Jessica didn’t want to dwell on it, taking a mouthful of water. ‘I’m going to visit Ellie. Can you send me her phone number?’

‘Can’t you take a day off?’

Jessica couldn’t tell from her friend’s tone if she was joking or serious. ‘Iz, I’m fine, send me the details and I’ll see you later or tomorrow.’

‘You’re forgetting though . . .’

Jessica interrupted, trying to speak with an authority she wasn’t feeling. ‘Can you please just do it?’

There was a pause before the constable replied with a terse ‘fine’ and then hung up.

Jessica felt bad for snapping and as soon as the line went silent, she knew what her friend was trying to remind her of. Although she was in the flat in Salford, her car was still parked on the other side of the city at Longsight. She finished her glass of water and returned indoors hoping there was still a set of bus timetables in the drawer underneath the sink.

As she walked from the bus stop to Eleanor Sexton’s house, Jessica couldn’t help but think that public transport was without doubt one of the worst things possible for a hangover. Everything from the whining babies to the teenagers with music pouring out of their headphones to the vague aroma suggesting that someone had mistaken the top deck for a public toilet made things feel worse. By the time she had taken the three separate buses necessary, Jessica was beginning to wish she had heeded Izzy’s advice about having a day off – or at least not been stingy and called a taxi instead.

‘Lara’s asleep upstairs,’ Eleanor said, welcoming Jessica inside with a whisper.

The woman looked weary but had clearly been very attractive in her younger days. Her hair was still just about blonde and Jessica could tell her body was trim and toned, despite it being covered by ill-fitting clothes.

‘. . . I always remember the pretty ones . . .’

It hadn’t been that long ago that Jessica had visited Cameron at the house. Things seemed exactly the same, with neat rows of shoes and coats inside the door and a fresh smell as if the hallway had been recently cleaned.

Eleanor led her through to the living room and went off to the kitchen to make tea. Jessica had a wander around, taking in the family photos she had glanced at on her previous visit. It was the first time she had spoken to Eleanor directly. Other officers had been to see her before but the woman hadn’t had much to offer.

When she returned, Eleanor sat in an armchair, curling her feet under herself. ‘How can I help you?’ she asked, sipping from a mug with a pink cartoon character on the front. As if sensing Jessica’s question, she added: ‘It’s from Lara’s favourite show. I gave you an adult’s mug.’

Jessica looked at the plain whiteness of her own and half-wished she had the child’s one. ‘I know someone has been to see you already but I’d like to ask you about Nicholas Long.’

She saw the recognition in Eleanor’s eyes, before the woman glanced away towards the window. ‘He used to be my boss. I told your people that. I’m not sure what else you want me to add.’

Jessica persisted. ‘Was that when you worked with Kayleigh?’ Eleanor nodded but didn’t reply, so Jessica continued to push. ‘I know someone visited to tell you what happened to her.’

Eleanor cradled the mug. ‘I didn’t know what to say to your people. I hadn’t seen her in ages but obviously there’s this strange link between us now because of what happened with poor Oliver.’

Jessica took a moment to let her dwell on the words. She didn’t think Eleanor was being evasive, but perhaps there was something hidden away she had tried to forget.

‘How close did you used to be?’ Jessica asked.

Eleanor answered with a shrug. ‘It was such a long time ago. We were good mates but a lot of that was because we saw each other every day and worked together. We were young women and I guess we moved on over time.’ As if realising what could be happening, she glanced up from her mug to catch Jessica’s eye. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘I don’t know. There’s nothing to say you or your family are in any danger.’

‘But did whoever killed Oliver also kill Kayleigh?’

‘I don’t know. We’re looking into it.’

Eleanor nodded. ‘But why would . . . ? I don’t see the connection.’

‘Neither do we – I’m hoping that’s where you can help.’

Jessica made sure she kept eye contact with the other woman until Eleanor looked away. She cuddled her free arm across herself, still holding the mug in the other. ‘I already talked to your people about Kayleigh,’ she said defensively.

Leaning forward in her chair, Jessica waited for the other woman to look at her before speaking. ‘I went to see Nicholas Long yesterday . . .’

Eleanor’s eyebrows flickered upwards.

‘It doesn’t sound as if either of you worked in the greatest of environments,’ Jessica added. Eleanor nodded but didn’t reply. ‘He told me that you both left at the same time; the same day.’

Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘He remembers us?’ There was a definite tone of apprehension.

‘He doesn’t know anything about you now, but yes.’

‘He’s not a nice man.’

Eleanor’s statement didn’t sound fearful, she was stating a fact.

‘I know.’

Both women locked eyes again and Jessica knew Eleanor had experienced exactly what she had from Nicholas – probably worse.

‘Why didn’t you tell us before that you had left that casino together at the same time?’

‘I didn’t think it was that important.’

Eleanor’s voice faltered and it was clear she wasn’t fooling herself, let alone anyone else.

‘What happened?’

Eleanor turned to look out of the window as Jessica tried to make eye contact. A clock on the mantelpiece tick-tocked through the silence, drawing Jessica’s attention. It looked like the top part of a grandfather clock, similar to one her parents had at their house. A needle metronomed from side to side, clicking as it reached the furthest points.

‘That used to belong to Cameron’s grandparents,’ Eleanor said softly. Jessica turned to face her, wondering how long her own attention had been distracted for. ‘It was made in 1899 and has been in the family ever since. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

Jessica squinted to see the detail more closely. Each number was in a perfect spidery script and there was an intricately painted background depicting a particular time of day behind each one.

‘It’s really nice.’

‘We’ve never done anything to it, no batteries or anything like that. I have no idea how it works but it is amazing.’

Jessica could hear her father in her head, telling her ‘they don’t make things like they used to’.

‘It was a different age,’ Eleanor said and, for a moment, Jessica thought she was talking about the clock. ‘Now, it’s all about equality for men and women, gay and straight, white, black, Asian and so on, but it wasn’t like that then – or at least it didn’t feel like it.’

Eleanor waved her hands, trying to illustrate a point she didn’t seem comfortable remembering. ‘It’s so different, even going to pubs where there’s no smoking. Back in the casino, I remember this blue haze of smoke. You would stink of it when you got home and it was everywhere; in your hair, on your clothes, even your shoes.’

‘What was your actual job?’

The woman reached forward to put down her empty mug and then stared up towards the ceiling. ‘We didn’t do anything really. There were the trained guys who ran the tables, then the barmen. After that, there were around a half-dozen of us. We carried drinks to the tables but otherwise we welcomed guests and took their coats.’