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don’t. Lynne, Ian is a grown man for God’s sake. I’ve no right to tell him what to do with his time’.
         Lynne wagged her finger. ‘ Oh no, no, no. You’ve got to set him his boundaries and let him know what will happen if he even thinks about crossing them’.
         ‘ Lynne, only neurotic, insecure women treat their men like children’.
         ‘ Oh you’re such a straight gay! You should be standing up for us girls’.
         ‘ I always stand up for you girls but not when I think you’re wrong’
         ‘ So what’s the relationship history of this man?’
         ‘ He’s had some affairs over the years but … ‘
         ‘ … but what?’
         ‘ Well he hasn’t let himself get involved with anyone for a long time’.
         ‘ I don’t like the sound of that’.
         ‘ It doesn’t bother me’ said Mark.
         ‘ Commitment phobic?’
         ‘ No’ said Mark ‘ It’s to do with something that happened years ago in Ireland’.
         ‘ You don’t think he’s IRA, do you?’
         ‘ No, he’s protestant’.
         ‘ Which is relevant because?’
         Mark closed his eyes in exasperation. ‘ Lynne, the IRA is the Irish Republican Army. It’s from the nationalist, Catholic side’.
         ‘ Oh it’s all the same to me. But you just watch yourself’.
         ‘ Give over’
         ‘ Does he come home all dusty from the building site?’ Lynne asked, her face screwed up as if describing shit on her shoe.
         ‘ Well yes’ said Mark ‘ He is a builder’.
         ‘ And where does he live?’
         ‘ Here in Salford’.
         ‘ Oh the Quays!’ Lynne enthused. ‘ Oh well that’s something at least. Mind you, how can a bricklayer afford a place in the Quays?’
         ‘ Look, if you must know, it’s his firm and he lives in Trinity Riverside’.
         ‘ So he owns the firm? Well that’s something I guess’.
         ‘ Oh well I’m glad you approve of that part of it’.
         ‘ You’ve got it bad’.
         ‘ He is such a real bloke, Lynne. He gets his hair cut for a fiver by a Pakistani man in a barber shop on Eccles New Road and goes for a few pints every Friday night with the lads from the building site  …’
         ‘ … oh well won’t you make the perfect bloody wife!’
         ‘ What do you mean?’
         ‘ Well I’d put a stop to his Friday nights in the pub with the lads for a kick off’ said Lynne. ‘ Christ, you’ll be telling me next that you won’t object to him getting an Indian takeaway and eating it in the living room in front of the telly’.
         ‘ We did that last night actually’.
         Lynne squirmed. ‘ But Mark, the smell?’
         ‘ Well I just opened a window. There was a big rugby league match on Sky Sports that he wanted to watch so I put the food down on the coffee table and we opened a few cans. We had a great night. And his team won’.
         ‘ God, if you had tits and a fanny whoever bagged you would think all his Christmases had come at once’.
         ‘ You remember what a fanny is, then?’
         ‘ Mark, sex isn’t everything’.
         ‘ Well I’ll ask Russell if he thinks that’s true the next time I see him. And if he got it elsewhere?’
         ‘ I’d take him to the bloody cleaners. He’d be left without a pot to piss in’.
         ‘ So you say that sex isn’t everything but you still control your husband with it?’
         ‘ So what’s wrong with that as long as I get what I want?’
         ‘ So what about what Russell wants?’
         Lynne just shrugged her shoulders. She’d never even dreamed of asking him. 
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    ‘ You wanted to see me, sir?’ said Graham as he waltzed into Jimmy Kent’s office. His body stiffened. He didn’t need this. His mate Tommy Millar had told him that Duncan Laurence