Deirdre Allison might be a blet, and slovenly when off-stage – away from the bright lights and leering faces, her movements lost their fluidity and she rather galumphed – but Angie and Chris knew that they must cultivate her if they were to fossick about in her private life and, perhaps especially, in her home, so they invited her to join them after their shift finished to a wee private coffee klatch – and she was delighted, having no other real friends among the girls, who all considered her too old, agreeing readily and her face flushed with delight; in the little community café down the road, they ordered 'coffee and' and were all pleased that the 'and' consisted of a selection of sweet pastries from the Sicilian Bakery off Leith Walk, just a block away; Angie and Chris cleverly drew information from her, but there was nothing unctuous in their manner or interest – they were both of them dedicated and 'people-watchers' by nature and it was this personality trait which had led them quite separately into their present work, with Scotland's own Security Service, SMI5; the conversation was first about her home life, and she was happy to talk about her daughter, Cassie, who at five had just started school, after the usual playgroup and nursery years: “she's a wee pet, ye ken, aye happy an' bubblin' wi stories an' stuff, she has lotsa pals – they aw grew up thegither, the same crew went fi the playgroup intae nursery an noo they'se aw in the same P1 class at St Margaret of Scotland's in Portobello – ah ken av nae been tae Confession for a while, ah widnae like tae keep Faither Ignatius in the boax fer the time it wid tak tae unburden masel, ah'd get fair upset masel tae, jist talking aboot it tae a Man of Goad,” and she unconsciously crossed herself at the thought, “ah sometimes get aw worked up, am no getting ony younger, am urny a match fer young lassies, the punters prefer ye tae the likes o me, an sometimes ah mak masel ill just worryin, am feart ah'll lose ma joab an then whit? am ower auld tae work the streets, ah couldnae tak the cauld weather! ma mither wis a Street Girl when she wis young and made me swear oan the Bible that ah'd nivver dae it masel, nae metter whit ma pecuniary needs wis – it gies ye chilblains oan yer bum, but, daen quickies and knee-tremblers up a cloase!” and Angie laid her hand on Deirdre's, “dinny somaticize yersel, Hen, ye've got us twa, we can be like thon Three Musketeers, eh, aw fer yin, an yin fer aw! if we stick thegither, naebdy can knock us doon, but hey, av seen yer Faither Ignatius in the Club in civvies, an wee Maree went oot wi him yesterday,” and Deirdre smiled, “aye, Raquel lets him use yin o the rooms fer private Confession, fur lassies fae the Club and Street Lassies tae, he's richt dedicated, ah've aye avoided it mind, cos ah've got ower mony sins tae confess, it'd tak mair'n ten or fifteen minutes tae get aw they aff ma conscience,” and Angie and Chris exchanged a glance – for all her experience, Deirdre was still as naive as a six-year-old! “well,” said Chris, “ye can tell us onythin but, honest Dee, an we'll no gie ye ony Hail Marys or Oor Faithers,” and the three giggled like naughty schoolgirls, sharing a secret.