Lacey slopped the mop back into the bucket, not really caring about the dirty water that splashed across the tiles. She'd done her best but the floor was still a mess of grime and maybe worse. Pine-scented disinfectant did little to disguise the stench of stale urine. She supposed that she should be grateful. At least she had a job … even if it wasn't much of one. She'd make the rent this month and Gold wouldn't have the excuse he needed to toss them out on the street. It was a small, but important victory.

She washed her hands, wondering if they'd ever stop smelling of piss and shit. They were red and raw. The skin cracked in places, nails torn to the quick. She remembered hands that had been exquisitely manicured, nail polish expertly applied.

Lacey looked at herself in the mirror, trying to fight the images that insisted on flashing into her brain. It had been happening more and more … ever since Gold had kissed her.

Running the cold tap, Lacey splashed water over her face. It was crazy. She shouldn't be thinking about the softness of his lips or the way his tongue had caressed hers for that brief, impossible moment.

'Hey Lace!'

Slimy hands deposited themselves on her hips.

'Mr. Graham,' she said, forcing a smile. Lacey tried not to gag. It wouldn't hurt the man to acquaint himself with a deodorant … or take a shower once in a while.

'Nice job,' he said.

'Thanks.'

He was lying. Lacey was no better as a cleaner than she had been as a waitress. She just wore shorter skirts and bent over more. It made men like Graham easier to manipulate.

'You know … if you wanted to earn a little extra…,' he suggested.

His hand drifted upwards, almost cupping her breast. She could feel him close behind her … Semi-hard penis, pressing against her arse. Lacey wriggled out of his grasp. She wasn't quite that desperate. Not yet. She hoped that she never would be.

'Let's take a rain check on that, Mr. Graham,' she said, flashing him a smile full of lies and broken words. She closed her eyes as he pressed against her once more.

'Yeah … let's do that.'

Graham's words were a threat not a promise. He moved away, walking towards the urinal. Lacey turned her back as he pissed. Close as he was, he made sure that he didn't quite hit the porcelain.

'You missed a spot,' he said as he zipped up.

The bathroom door banged shut.

She was tempted to leave it. Just walk out and never come back. If it hadn't been for Poppy she probably would have done. Knowing that this was a job that she couldn't afford to lose, Lacey mopped up the urine. It could have been worse, she told herself. He could have taken a shit on the floor.

She dutifully packed away the tools of her trade, making sure that she had enough supplies to last her another night … she didn't particularly want to face Graham again. She didn't stop to say goodbye. Lacey wasn't even vaguely tempted to stay behind and see if she could persuade some hapless New Yorker to buy her a drink. Those days were over.

'Happy new year,' Lacey muttered to herself as she stepped out into the bitter night, tucking her hands into her armpits. She'd lost her gloves and hadn't been able to afford a new pair. It was almost 8.30. The club would open its doors in another half hour but Lacey wanted to be home by then. She'd had never really expected that the birth of her child would change her so much. The gods new but she'd fought long and hard against it. And now she couldn't possibly imagine her life without Poppy. Lacey truly didn't know what she would do if Mr. Gold wanted to take her away. Every moment she shared with her daughter was precious. Lacey believed that more than ever.

There was a letter waiting back at home. It had arrived a week ago but Lacey had yet to find the courage to open it. Her one satisfaction was the fact that it had probably cost him a small fortune to pay his lawyer to work over the holidays. Ignoring the letter was just her way of trying to deal with the situation she now found herself in. There was no way that she would ever be able to afford to face him in court. She would be forced to settle for whatever Gold wanted. At best they would share equal custody of Poppy and at worst … Lacey wondered if she shouldn't just leave. Disappear? Surely there had to be some place in this city where Gold wouldn't find her?

She wound her way through the packs of strangers haunting the sidewalks, head down, not apologising to the people she knocked against in her eagerness to get home. Her breath clouded before her, the pavement sparkling with droplets of frost as the temperature dropped below zero. Despite the bitter chill, her body was warm, almost overheated. She unzipped her hoody, letting the cold air bathe her skin.

Lacey didn't even care that the elevator was broken as she ran up the stairs to Mrs. Letterman's apartment.

'You're a little late, dear,' Mrs Letterman said as she opened the door.

'I'm sorry.'

Lacey fumbled in her purse, finding a few extra bills to press into Mrs Letterman's withered hands. She picked up her sleeping daughter, snuggling Poppy close to her chest. This was perfect. This was heaven.

'Oh … I forgot to tell you,' Mrs. Letterman said. 'There was a woman looking for you.'

'What?'

'She said she was a friend of yours?'

Lacey didn't have friends, at least not since she'd been forced to leave the diner.

'Red hair … cheap looking. She had some kind of accent but it wasn't a lovely as yours.'

Lena. She was the only person Lacey knew who could possibly meet that description. She wasn't surprised that the woman had managed to wiggle her way out of police custody but she couldn't imagine why Lena would want to come here? And why had she gone to Mrs Letterman? It didn't make sense. The very thought of Lena being anywhere near Poppy made her feel vaguely sick

'She's not my friend,' Lacey said.

Mrs. Letterman patted her arm.

'That's what I thought. I didn't let her in.'

'Thank you.'

Lacey scrabbled in her purse for a few extra coins. Mrs. Letterman snatched them from her. It was more than Lacey was able to pay, but worth every cent if it kept Lena away from Poppy.

'Shouldn't you be getting your little munchkin to bed?'

Poppy grumbled softly at Mrs. Letterman's words. She grabbed Lacey's sweater, holding on tight.

'Yes … yes … of course,' Lacey said. 'Goodnight and thank you again.'

The old lady accepted the kiss that Lacey pressed to her wrinkled cheek.

Lacey climbed the remaining stairs slowly, careful not to jostle her sleepy daughter. Poppy, however, was now awake. She gave a little cry and Lacey realised that there would probably be little sleep for either of them that night. If Poppy was awake then Lacey was awake. There wasn't any other choice.

Letting them into the apartment, Lacey felt her eyes drawn to Gold's letter. She needed to open it.

'Do the brave thing,' she told herself as she set Poppy down on the floor.

Lacey ripped open the envelope and two pieces of paper fluttered out. She read the letter first.

'My Dear Lacey,

Please accept my apologies for my unfortunate behaviour on Christmas Eve. It was never my intention to cause you such distress. I am, by all accounts, a difficult man to love and perhaps now you can understand why.

I hope that the enclosed cheque will go some way to providing for both yourself and our daughter. If you are ever in need of any further assistance then please do not hesitate to contact me.

I remain your obedient servant,

R. Gold.'

Lacey picked up the cheque, tears running freely down her face as the number in words and figures came into focus. It was more than she could ever have imagined. He couldn't possibly have meant to give them so much. She couldn't possibly accept it, could she? There was nothing else. No demands, no threats. He just wanted to provide for his daughter. Perhaps he was a difficult man to love, but Lacey felt nothing more than affection for that strange and beautiful man.

Gold's packages still rested under the tree. It was long past twelfth night but Lacey hadn't gotten around to taking it down.

'Let's see what we got,' she said, picking up her daughter's parcel first and sitting down next to the little girl. Lacey gave the package a squeeze and a shake. Poppy reached out, fascinated by the shiny paper.

The small garment was exquisite. Beautifully made and Lacey knew that it would fit her daughter perfectly. She looked for the label but there wasn't one. Had it been hand crafted? The stitches seemed neat and even but they hadn't been sewn by a machine. Lacey frowned, wondering how she knew that. She could barely sew a button. Gold must have had it specially made. Lacey took her time to dress Poppy in the delicate garment. The soft cotton brought out the peaches and cream of her daughter's cheeks; highlighted the delicate curls that were starting to cluster on her head.

Lacey unwrapped her gift, taking care not to tear the paper. The box contained a charm bracelet. Expensive. Lacey knew that she should give it back, pawn it, drop it in the street … anything apart from fasten it about her wrist and watch how the charms caught the light. A book, a teacup and a rose; made from gold threads so fine that she couldn't imagine how they had ever been fashioned.

Why had he gotten them such beautiful things? Poppy was smiling, he rlittle hands plucking at the fabric of her new dress.

Without even realising it, Lacey reached for the phone, dialling the number from memory.

'Hello?' he answered quickly and she had the strange feeling that he'd been waiting for her call.

Lacey couldn't speak. The few short weeks had been enough for her to forget the warmth; the way is accent curled itself around the simplest of words.

'Hello, who is this?'

'Mr Gold,' she managed at last, her voice sounding strange and broken.

'Miss French? Is there something wrong? Is Poppy alright?'

'She's fine. I… We … got your gifts and I just wanted to say thank you.'

There was silence at the other end of the line.

'I also thought that maybe … maybe you could come over … if you wanted. Just to see her.'

'Lacey …'

'And we could talk?'

More silence. For a moment Lacey thought that he'd put down the phone. Cut her off. But when he finally spoke his words brought little comfort.

'I'm not sure that's a good idea. You have my cheque?'

'Yes.'

'It should be more than sufficient.'

'I don't want your money… '

'Then what do you want, Lacey? A baby sitter? Surely Mrs. Letterman is more convenient? '

'I don't know,' she mumbled. That much, at least, was the truth. This really wasn't turning out the way she had expected.

'When you make up your mind you know where to find me.'

'No … wait … please!'

She heard him sigh.

'Let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be,' he said.

'What about custody? We need to talk about that.'

'I thought that I had made my position perfectly clear. You may retain full custody of Poppy. I will provide financial assistance but nothing more.'

'Is that what you want?'

She was desperate. His words were breaking her heart but she knew that if she pushed a little further then maybe, just maybe, she'd find the man beneath the beast.

'No Lacey,' he said. 'It's not what I want.'

'Poppy wants to see you.'

'She's four months old. She doesn't even know who I am.'

'She needs her father … and I think … I think you need her.'

His final words were a whisper.

'I need both of you.'

'Then come,' she pleaded.

The line went dead.