Err ... faces – Baz likes bikers' slags, his wife is as rough as a bear's arse. One of the slags, Cheryl, was trying to get into my shreddies all bl...ody evening. We spent some time in the mucky duck, with me fending off Cheryl the Peril, then a bunch of us went on to Lorenzo's."Lorenzo's was down by the river, in what had been a real rough part of Plaistow. Of course all the back-to-back houses, and the drinking dens, had gone. Where Lorenzo's now stands used to be a pub called the Sailor's. It felt sore, but at least it worked. My ears worked too – although I couldn’t hear enough of anything to prove it, apart from the creaking of old wood now and again as the shack muttered in its dotage.Summer was gone, no longer tied to the stove, a couple of pieces of sliced curved plastic dangling from a handle the only evidence she had ever been there. Her face flashed into my mind and I felt my heart start to pound once again. Had the bastard taken her and left me here to die? I had no idea. More

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