I grabbed her arm, hissed, ‘Hey, don’t pissin’ sigh at me lady, I’ll break yer bloody face… hear me.’

Didn’t affect her, as she moved on she shouted, ‘Damn Yuppie.’

I guess it was the jacket.

I arrived in The Roebuck, up for it. The two were sitting at a corner table, untouched glasses of orange like prayers before them. I opened: ‘On the old Britvics eh.’

‘But let us not curtail… your inclinations.’

This from Noble, again the dead smile. I sat opposite them. The barman shouted, ‘What’ll it be guv?’

‘Same as these chappies.’

He brought it over and it sat with the other immobile glasses. I said, ‘Ah, the juice.’

Noble gave me the long look, said, ‘Nice bit o’ leather, expensive was it.’

‘Are you in the market for one, that it?’

‘Alas, a policeman’s salary wouldn’t run to such an item.’

The juice looked forlorn, I extended a finger, said, ‘Eeny, Meeny, Miny… Mo.’

And Quinn spoke, South-East London hard, but inroads of Irish, ‘Catch a blagger by the toe.’

Noble added, ‘Quinn here is a plastic Paddy… second generation, he hates blaggers.’

‘And who would blame him?’

‘Precisely David. It is David isn’t it… You don’t mind if I call you that, or are you more comfortable with Davy or Dave even?’

‘Cooper is fine.’

‘Touch hard is it not, are you a hard man Dave?’

‘Not according to my old mum, bless her heart.’

Quinn leaned over, ‘You’ve got form Davy boy.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And keeping clean, are yah?’

‘With the decorating, it’s not easy.’

His dog face was working up to it.

‘Not hurting for the readies… business good, was it?’