The Take

Chapter Eighteen

'You ain't leaving him here again, surely?'

Maggie snapped at her mother, in a high angry voice, 'Well, if you don't want to have him, Mum, just say.'

Little James Junior was watching the scene before him with his usual nervous demeanour.

He spent half his life at his nana's and he liked it there. At three years old he had already sussed out that his mother was not like other mothers. She rarely hugged him, or touched him unless it was absolutely necessary. Yet she took very good care of him. He was clean and fed but he was looked after most of the time by his nana and this suited him right down to the ground.

His father was a different kettle of fish altogether. He loved his dada and his dada loved him. He hugged, kissed and played with him until his mum bathed him and put him into his bed. It was his dad who read to him, took him with him in his car and who made him feel safe.

His mother, on the other hand, made him feel worried. He had a nervous tic and he blinked his eyes constantly when he was with her for any length of time on his own. He knew he wasn't quick enough for her, that he irritated her, and yet he also knew that she didn't mean to hurt his feelings, that she felt bad about it. Then she would give him a hug, but it was more as an apology than an expression of love.

Nothing he did was right in her eyes, and he didn't know how to make her like him.

Now his nana was doing her crust, as his granddad called her tempers, and he knew that he would be staying there no matter what. At least he hoped so anyway. His granddad made him laugh and told him stories. His nana made him lovely food and cuddled him as much as she could. It was as if she was trying to make up for his mother's complete lack of affection.

But he didn't mind. If he could live at his nana's and see his daddy every day then life would be perfect.

'Give us another kiss, you!'

Rox was going out with a local boy called Dicky Harmon. He was a good-looking lad, and he was also an up-and-coming young scoundrel. He was working for Jimmy and he was loving it. Freddie frightened him, but he was sensible enough not to let him know that. Freddie would put the kibosh on their relationship if he could, but Rox had put him in his place a long time ago. He knew, though, that Freddie could not bear the thought of his daughters with boys, no matter who they were, so he did not take his animosity too personally. He was sensible like that, he knew that Freddie looked after his girls in all the wrong ways but he could not bear for them to be treated as Freddie treated all the females in his own life. Freddie would take it personally if one of his daughters was fucked and left. It wasn't about them, though, it was about him and how he was perceived.

Dicky had sussed him out a long time ago. He had a father just like Freddie, and he was determined not to be like any of them. Rox was a star and he loved her. He didn't want anyone else just yet, but when he did he would take them discreetly and without fear of hurting the love of his life.

Rox was like a clone of Maggie at the same age. At twenty-one she was stunning, and she was also a qualified hairdresser and beautician. She ran Maggie's second-biggest salon in Chingford, and she had bought her own little flat and her own car. Maggie had helped her, though no one knew that, of course.

She thanked God every day for her aunt, and she worshipped her. Maggie had helped her get away from the dump she had grown up in and shown her a better way of life.

Now that she had Dicky and she was in love, her life was better than it had ever been. Her father had tried to stop them, but once Jimmy gave his blessing he had calmed down a bit. Plus, she thought that her father actually liked Dicky but just couldn't admit it.

It was a Friday night and the salon was packed out. The sun beds were all booked up and the smell of the tanning accelerator was heavy in the air, mingling with the perfumed smell of the hair products used by the stylists. Rox was tired, happy, and trying to make Dicky get out of her little office so she could get on with her work.

One of the juniors, a pretty girl with heavy hips and hair extensions, called through the door. 'Margaret's buzzer just went. Shall I wash her colour off, or do you want to check it first?'

'I'm coming, Renee. Pour her a glass of white wine, and pour me one and all. I'll be right there.'

She pushed Dicky towards the door. 'Come on, you, get a move on. I have work to do.'

He laughed. 'We still on for tonight?'

She nodded, amazed as always that this lovely man wanted her. 'Meet me at me flat about half eight, or would you rather meet me in the pub?'

'Better be the pub, eh? Your dad and that will be there, won't they?'

She sighed. They walked out together into the bustle of her little domain, and she felt the thrill she always felt knowing this was all under her control.

Dicky left just as two women came in, hoping for quick blow-dries, and she smiled professionally at Margaret Channing, checking her hair with an expert eye, even though her mind was on the night ahead.

'Where's me boy, then?'

Jimmy sounded annoyed and Maggie said, as nicely as she could, 'He is at me mum's. We have Jackie's birthday, don't we?'

He nodded, but she knew he was not happy and he would have preferred to drop the boy off on the way there. She had justified leaving Jimmy Junior there already because she had a lot of work to catch up on and she needed the time to herself. This was really a complete fabrication but she still tried to convince herself that it was true.

'Ain't your mum and dad going, then?'

Maggie turned to face him. As he looked into her lovely face, Jimmy wondered for the millionth time what was so wrong with his wife that she couldn't take to her own child.

'Maddie is going to me mum's and having him for a while. They won't stay long anyway, you know that. Me dad hates Freddie, and me mum only tolerates him. Once Jackie has a few and gets stroppy they'll bugger off.'

Jimmy nodded, but he was still upset that his little fella was not at home to greet him. He looked around his home, and knew that this was a home to be proud of. It was a six-bedroomed detached Georgian house in three acres. It had a pool, a sauna and was like something from a magazine.

Maggie had the knack of doing the places up, he could not deny that. Yet this house felt empty, devoid of any real life. It was crazy because he had wanted a home like this all his life, and now he had it, he couldn't enjoy it. He knew it was because of Maggie and her attitude towards the boy, and as much as he loved her, he adored his son. Jimmy Junior was a diamond, clever, funny and good natured. When he looked at the child, he saw himself, like looking in a mirror, and his mother and Maggie's mother loved him. If he had been a bugger, like Little Freddie, then he could have understood Maggie's attitude, but even though she did all that was supposed to be done for a child, he knew, and more importantly, little Jimmy knew, that she did it because it was expected, not out of any kind of love.

She had never seemed to really care for him. After his birth Maggie's attitude had been put down to postnatal depression, but although she had recovered from that eventually, she simply hadn't ever bonded with the child.

He walked up the large staircase, and as always marvelled at the beauty of this house, and he knew that he would move out in the morning to a little flat if it would bring back the happiness they had shared in the early days of their marriage.

Maggie came out of their bedroom suite and she looked stunning. He smiled at her and said sincerely, 'You look fucking gorgeous, Mags.'

She smiled back and he saw the professionally whitened teeth and the immaculate make-up and knew the smile was there and reaching her eyes only because her son was not in the house. She relaxed when the boy was away from her, and he knew that was not fanciful thinking because he felt the change in her, saw the difference in her moods.

She moved sedately past him and he walked into his large bedroom with its twin bathrooms and dressing rooms and he felt completely empty inside.

Jackie looked lovely. The girls had done her hair and makeup, and had made sure she did not get pissed too quickly by rationing her drinking.

Little Freddie, who was now huge and cumbersome, was lying on the front-room floor as usual, watching Sky TV

Dianna looked around the place and sighed. It was rotten again, and she knew that if she didn't give it a good go over then no one ever would. The way her parents lived amazed her even as it annoyed her. The money that was wasted on furniture and decorators was astronomical, yet nothing was ever looked after or respected. Her bedroom was perfect, but it had a sturdy lock on the door to keep Little Freddie out. That little sod would rob anything if it wasn't nailed down, and she hoped that this time when he went to court they sent him away somewhere.

He was already well known to the police and hated by nearly everyone in his orbit. Because he was Freddie Jackson's son and heir he was allowed to get away with murder and one day that would be what he was charged with. She had no doubt about that whatsoever!

Jackie burped, and the sound made Dianna's stomach churn. She was like an animal at times. She only hoped that her father turned up, because if he didn't there would be trouble. Her mother laid great store on her birthday, and on her husband being with her in the pub for all to see. It was a sham, and Dianna was sick to death of it all.

Jackie was dressed in a black trouser suit and she looked nice. She was pleased with how well she had scrubbed up, but the drink had bloated her and although the weight that had piled on a few years ago was now dropping off her at an alarming rate, her hands and face were still puffy. She should cut down on the booze, but knew that she wouldn't.

Anyway, it was her birthday. If you couldn't have a drink on your birthday, when could you?

Dianna looked great, Jackie thought. She was a beauty, and Kimberley was looking lovely too. Kim worried her, though. Unlike Rox, who had fucked off at the earliest opportunity, she looked like she was here for the duration. Kimberley, who had always been the mouthy one, had changed over the last few years. She rarely went out in the evenings to the pub, or to go clubbing. She was like the ghost of Christmas past, and now she didn't even seem to work that much. Jackie knew Maggie had tried to stick a firework up her arse on more than one occasion because she had let her down in the salons.

Kim always looked like she was sickening for something, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But she was all grown up now, so it was none of her business what went on in that girl's head. She had done her bit, and it was up to them to sort themselves out.

Jackie put her daughters out of her mind and wondered if her Freddie would turn up like he had promised. He had better. She didn't ask a lot of him, just that he came out with her on high days and holidays. Surely as his wife she was entitled to that much?

Little Freddie kicked out at Kimberley as she walked past him and she ignored him. He started shouting and swearing at her as she walked up the stairs to go into her bedroom.

Dianna watched her go and sighed. There was trouble waiting to explode and it would happen sooner rather than later. If her mum or dad actually looked at Kim one day they would realise exactly what the score was. But they were not going to hear it from her. She had enough to contend with as it was.

Freddie was already in the pub, not because he was waiting for his wife, but because he was chasing a piece of skirt who worked behind the bar. She was young, only eighteen, but she had the knowing look he loved, and the slutty way of dressing that told him she was well up for it.

Well, so was he. He was now investing in his future sex life by buying her drinks and charming her with his stories and jokes. He was a Face, and as such was already halfway into her knickers. He was half pissed, too, but he was being a good boy because he wanted to impress this little hussy and hopefully bed her before the night was out.

He knew she had a baby, which was always a guarantee for a good time in his experience. Once they were lumbered with a kid and a council flat, the novelty of motherhood soon wore off. Then they were lonely, skint and, more to the point, looking for a bit of excitement to liven up what had turned out to be a very dull and boring existence.

Girls like this little barmaid amazed him. They wanted kids but when they arrived, very few actually enjoyed the experience, and then they wondered why the men in the equation fucked off out at the earliest opportunity. What man in his right mind would believe that the same girl who had dropped her drawers in nanoseconds for him had not done the same thing many times before with other mugs? So the girls quite rightly ended up on their Jack Jones, and then became the local shag for married men like himself.

Oh, he knew all the signs. They were dressed to kill – even just going up the local shops for a loaf of bread or their family allowance, they were half naked and plastered in make-up. Their lives revolved around a few mates in a similar position to them, their mums, and their mum's houses, and pulling a bloke, hopefully a live one.

They were accidents waiting to happen, and he liked to get them while they were still halfway decent. Within a few years, this girl would have produced another baby, maybe two and she would be relegated to being a booty call for the local no necks, giro blasters and tracksuit wearers. At the moment, though, he wanted her, and he was determined to have her.

He felt in his pockets and caressed his wad of cash. Every time he pulled it out to get a drink her eyes nearly popped out of her head. So far he knew her name was Charmaine, she had a baby girl of thirteen months and a flat within walking distance of the pub and the house where he lived with Jackie, and that her big dream was to go to Florida. She was already proving to be uncomplicated and without any kind of imagination at all, so there was no chance of her wanting long conversations or trying to impress him with her staggering intelligence.

He was on a roll when Jackie and the girls walked into the pub, and he sighed heavily as Charmaine took one look at Jackie, who was now standing beside him like his minder, and sensibly made her way to the other end of the bar in a state of extreme fright.

'Ain't you going to wish me happy birthday, then?'

Freddie smiled and said casually, as he tried to get the landlady's attention for a drink, 'No, Jackie, I ain't.'

Little Jimmy was watching a cartoon and eating a biscuit when Little Freddie finally rolled up at his nana's house. Jimmy Junior was terrified of his cousin because he was such a noisy and aggressive lad who seemed to take great delight in frightening him.

As soon as he came into the flat the atmosphere changed, and Maddie, who had hoped that Little Freddie wouldn't want to come and sit in with her and Jimmy Junior, was already feeling a nervous wreck.

Little Freddie was enjoying the effect he was creating. He loved the way people were scared of him and tried to get round him, to get in his good books. He was a handsome lad, though his features were marred by his surly and unhappy expression. He was also badly scarred since he had been stitched up many times, mainly over his refusal to feel any kind of danger, and because he had been in so many fights.

Now he looked at the little boy who he knew was hoping that he would not be nasty, and he smiled at him because his father had warned him that one more incident with Jimmy Junior and he would really take him in hand.

Little Freddie had realised that his father was wary of Big Jimmy, and that had been a learning curve. He had never imagined his father fearing anyone or anything. But he had realised a while back that it was Jimmy who ran everything and that even his father had to do what he was asked.

So he smiled at his little cousin and, giving his old nana a big hug, he sat down and watched the cartoons with a light heart and a calm exterior.

Like his father before him he was formulating a plan, and like his father before him, it needed serious plotting and serious intention. Unlike his father, though, he paid attention to the details.

Maggie looked around the pub and willed the clock to go faster. She hated this place now, though there had been a time when she had loved coming in here. It was still dirty, still had the same cloying smell of disinfectant and beer in the carpet and, more worrying, it still had the same people in the same seats as when she had first come in there all those years ago.

The place was like some kind of time warp.

Her mother and father were having the time of their lives, despite having sworn they'd leave early, and she envied them the carefree joviality they seemed to possess no matter what happened to them.

Jackie was pissed out of her brains, and Freddie was watching a skinny barmaid with too much make-up and greasy hair. The girls were all laughing and joking at the bar, and that young Dicky was looking at Rox as if he had just won the Rollover on the National Lottery.

Maggie felt a pang in her breast as she remembered that she had been like that once – carefree, young and madly in love. She sought out Jimmy with her eyes and saw him in earnest conversation with Dianna.

She was a beauty, was Dianna. As Maggie watched them talk, she heard Jackie's high-pitched voice as she started to abuse the young barmaid. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she saw Freddie being held back by Jimmy and her father, and the girls trying to help Jackie up off the filthy floor. Jackie had a bloody nose, and she felt an urge to cry at the complete abortion that constituted her life.

Instead she got up and walked to her sister and, taking her gently by the arm, she helped the drunken and bleeding woman into the toilets.

Freddie pushed Jimmy and Joseph away from him, waving his arms to let them know he was calmer and then he said loudly, 'Cabaret's over, let's get another drink.'

Everyone in the pub went back to what they were doing. This kind of occurrence was the norm, and broke up the sheer boredom that most of them felt for the majority of the time.

Rox and Dianna watched their mother as she limped into the toilet with Maggie and then saw their elder sister sneak out to the other bar. Dicky looked at Rox and made a face that told her he wanted to go, and go sooner rather than later.

She nodded in complete agreement. They had done their bit, and now they were free to leave and enjoy themselves at last.

Maggie had a headache and she knew it was going to be a blinder. As she stripped off her clothes, she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror on the dressing-room wall. She didn't have a mark on her, no one would ever believe she had given birth to a child. She knew this fact annoyed her sister Jackie no end, but it didn't bother her either way. Any pleasure she had ever garnered from her body was long gone.

Freddie had seen to that.

In her salons, she was complimented all day by women who wanted perfection and thought that she possessed it. If only they knew the truth of it. She saw her body as something corrupt, something disgusting and something that had been the vessel that had brought her and her family to this point.

She slipped a white silk nightie over her head. Seeing her reflection again she knew she looked lovely, and that Jimmy would take her and she would let him. It was easier than trying to make excuses not to make love.

She walked back into the bedroom and sat on the chaise longue that was supposed to have been used for romance, but was used for her to watch TV. Jimmy was putting the boy to bed, and she knew he was making up for not seeing him earlier and, as well, trying to make up for her complete lack of interest in the child.

She placed a hand softly on to her belly and rubbed it unconsciously.

She had never taken any precautions since the boy's birth and there had been nothing. This had only strengthened her belief that Jimmy was besotted with Freddie's child. And Jimmy Junior was by some strange quirk of nature a nice child, he was a dear little soul. But she knew that one day he would change. He would turn into his true self, and then Freddie Jackson would be living under her roof.

Maggie knew he still believed that Jimmy Junior was his child, and that he was pleased about it. She heard him telling Jimmy how much he looked like his father, and he would be looking at her as he said it. The two men looked so alike it was uncanny.

She hated Freddie Jackson, and the boy had just been another stick to beat her with. If she had only had another child, she could have got away with her deceit, got Freddie off her back. But it had never happened, not even a threat of one.

Every time she allowed Jimmy to take her, she prayed that this time he would give her a proper child, a child of their own.

But inside herself, she felt that would never happen.

'Did you have a nice time at Nana's, mate?'

Jimmy Junior nodded. 'Freddie came and was nice to me.'

Jimmy could hear the relief and surprise in his voice, and he hugged the boy to him, feeling, as he always did when near to him, the sheer strength of his love for his child.

The boy's blue eyes had incredibly long lashes and his little nose was a perfect blob on his handsome little face. His thick dark hair was so like his, wavy and black, and the smell of his small, chubby body was distinct and wholly his own.

'Are you happy, my little soldier?'

The boy looked up at him with complete trust and said happily, 'Yes, I love you, Dad.'

'And I love you, son. Now, off to sleep, eh?'

He watched as he cuddled up to his teddy bear and closed his eyes, and knew it was not natural that this child had never once tried to get into bed with his mother and father.

Jimmy looked around the perfect bedroom. It was a real boy's room. Trains were hand-painted on the walls, and pennants were pinned up to show all the places he had visited in his little life. All his other toys were hidden away in the large toy store, as Maggie insisted on calling it, and the few toys lying around were jigsaws of Thomas the Tank Engine and colouring books and pencils that were all neatly put away in their cases.

This was not how a three year old's bedroom should look. Jimmy didn't know how he knew that, but he was convinced he was right. The jigsaws and colouring books signified solitude to him, and he knew that this child was alone far too much for his own good.

Kissing his little son's forehead, he walked quietly from the room.

Freddie was at the delectable Charmaine's house, and he was happily drinking a beer and watching a video while she made him something to eat.

At least her flat was clean, he would give her a few points for that much anyway, and the kid seemed a nice little thing from the photos that were all over the place. She was at her grandmother's house. Well, there was a novelty on this estate. He would bet not one child under the age of twelve had ever stayed in with their mothers on a Friday night in their life.

Char, as she liked to be called, came back into the small lounge and gave him a cheese sandwich and another beer. She was a nice little thing, well house-trained and with a cracking little arse on her.

'I didn't realise you were Kimberley's dad.'

Now this was a new concept to him. Surely she wasn't his daughter's mate!

'How do you know her, then?'

Charmaine laughed at his tone, and said with a smile, 'I just know her from around the estate, that's all. She pops in sometimes to see my mum for a cuppa, you know.'

Freddie nodded, not sure where this conversation was taking them. 'I see, now why don't you get your kit off while I eat this sandwich, eh?'

Charmaine nearly fainted, and he was surprised that she was so shy. He would have laid money on her being a right little raver.

'Leave it out!' She was genuinely embarrassed, and this endeared her to him for some reason.

'Well, sweetheart, you saw me wife tonight. I ain't come round here to read the fucking Bible with you, have I?'

She laughed, and then she said seriously, 'Do you fancy a joint?'

She opened a small tin, and he watched her in delight as she rolled a perfect little joint and then sparked it up and drew the smoke into her lungs like a true professional.

She passed it to him and he drew on it deeply.

'This is a nice bit of skag, where did you score it?'

She was sipping her own beer now, and he saw that she was very ladylike and dainty.

'I get it off Taffy Robin.'

He laughed then, a big booming laugh that made the girl jump in fright. 'Off fucking who?'

She started giggling as she repeated, 'Taffy Robin, you know, the Welsh bloke who lives in the flats over by the mini park. He always has a good stash on him, anything you want he's usually got it. Ask your Kimberley, she should know.'

He was alert now and sobering up faster than a high-court judge on a drink-driving charge. 'You what? How would my Kimberley know about him?'

Charmaine heard the subtle change in his voice and realised she had said the wrong thing. 'I don't know, Freddie, I thought she knew him, that's all. I was probably wrong, eh?'

She was trying to recover and she was doing a sterling job, but he knew a lying cunt when he saw one. His dad used to say, 'How do you know when a woman's lying? Her lips move,' and he was right about that.

He sat up and, putting down his plate, he said nicely, and with his most charming smile, 'Oh, no you don't, Char. You know something that I don't, see. Now, you can either tell me the truth, and I mean the truth, and me and you can remain friends or you can go to the nearest casualty department via the end of my boot. The choice, my little love, is yours.'

Charmaine was nervous. The dope she had smoked had just hit and she was not enjoying it at all. In fact, she was starting to sweat, she could feel it all over her body and she knew it was through fear.

'I don't know what to tell you, Freddie, I only know she goes round there sometimes-'

She was on her back with him holding her by the throat within seconds, and the force with which she hit the floor winded her. The pain was acute and she was suddenly reminded of just how dangerous this man might actually be.

She looked into those blue eyes that earlier had seemed so sexy and inviting, and now all she saw was anger and threats.

'I am warning you, Charmaine. You had better tell me what my daughter was doing in a Welsh fucking dealer's house, and you better tell me what she was scoring. Because if you lie and I find out you fucking lied to me twice, I will break your fucking neck. Now tell me what it was.'

The girl's eyes were bulging and he was so angry it was a few seconds before he realised that she literally couldn't answer him. He released his grip a little, and then he bellowed over her coughing and spluttering. 'Fucking answer me, you cunt!'

In minutes her life had gone from happy and carefree, with maybe even the promise of a romance, to violence and terror. She was shaking with fear and shock and she said through her tears, 'It's the brown, she's on the brown.'

The words took a few seconds to penetrate and when they did he could not for the life of him form in his mind the correct term for brown.

Then he heard the word heroin in his head like a screaming klaxon and he knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that it was true, it was all true.

And he slapped the girl on the ground around the face and head a few times, before he gravitated to punches and kicks. He was so angry he could kill someone, and he knew exactly who that was going to be.

Maggie lay awake and listened to Jimmy gently snoring. She liked to feel him beside her in the dark, and she liked to hear him breathing as he slept because it made her feel safe.

He had not touched her when he had got into bed, and she was disappointed because she had psyched herself up for it. And she wanted a child of their own, felt that this alone could cleanse her, make things right again.

As she lay there, he turned over and she felt his hand touch her thigh and she jumped as she always did when touched without any warning. Her stomach turned over and she felt the now-familiar sickness as she once again felt Freddie's hands, and smelled his breath and his body odour. She knew that as long as he lived those stenches would stay in her mind, and she would be able to smell them as acutely as she had then.

The phone started ringing and she answered it gingerly, nervous in case it was Freddie. He rang sometimes in the night and asked for Jimmy, though she knew it was part of his campaign against her. But instead of Freddie's voice she heard a practically incoherent Jackie screaming and crying down the line.

Chapter Nineteen

Robin Williams, a name he saw as a curse thanks to a certain movie star and now a singer from a boy band whose sexuality was questioned, was carefully burning up some skag. A couple of young friends, young female friends, were happily going like lambs to his slaughterhouse as he showed them how to bubble it on the silver paper. Then he was going to explain the intricate mystery of how to load a syringe.

He was in his late thirties, but he looked younger. His hair had a ginger tinge and was long and straggly, as was his little goatee beard. He was tattooed everywhere, and these home-made drawings consisted mainly of skulls and other death-related objects. He only listened to Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin or his idol Ozzy Osbourne, and his life revolved around his habit and/or the maintaining of his habit.

Like most heroin addicts, any kind of real life had been put on hold the day he had become addicted. He had no real friends, no real social life and no idea of conversation outside of the best high he had experienced or the death of people who were only friends now because they had overdosed and died and could not contradict anything that he said about them.

It was a lonely, depressing and seriously dangerous way of life. But to these two young people, who he saw as earners for himself in the future and nothing else, it seemed an exciting and fun-filled existence.

Robin, or Taffy Robin as he was known, had three children he never saw, a string of women he had destroyed and left, and a debt that was, in their world, the equivalent of a Third World country's which he could not pay back. Hence the new recruits.

He was also into crack when the fancy took him, and he smoked dope to mellow himself out. He sold his methadone but kept up the scripts, or prescriptions to give them their correct term for it, because that was his magic ticket to the dole office. He knew every scam going and he had never worked a day in his life.

He was an addict, and that meant that every agency the Labour Government funded was there expressly to help people like him. He had never had it so good, life had simply got better and better.

His addiction had helped keep him out of prison, had helped him get housed time and time again when the going had got a little too tough, and it had made sure he got his drugs whenever he needed them because he was, after all, big roll of drums, addicted.

Roll on Tony and his wonderful nanny state.

As he drew the brown into the syringe, his front door came off the hinges and his front-room door, which as usual was wide open because of the smell, brought into view his worst nightmare.

He had dealt with more than his fair share of irate fathers in his time, but this was not the usual angry dad. They were normally flabby, beer-drinking men who gave him a small dig that left him with a black eye, and gave them the prestige of their wives and friends.

This man was what he had been dreading all his life, this man was a lunatic and it was there in his eyes, in his demeanour and also in the crowbar he was holding with both hands and which Taffy knew was going to come down on to his skull in the very near future.

Like all addicts he tried to quickly put down the brown, to save it, so it wasn't wasted, because to him it was more important than his own life.

The two girls looked at the huge man with fear-filled eyes and when he bellowed, 'Out, you pair of useless junkie cunts!' they did not need to be told twice.

The two girls grabbed their belongings and made a run for the now-gaping hole that had once been the front door.

Freddie pointed at them with the crowbar to stop them leaving so quickly, and he said in a conversational tone, 'You phone the filth or anyone and I will come after you, understand?'

They stood stock still and nodded. He was talking like their dad, like a regular person and they nodded in unison again so hard they hurt their necks.

'Well, fuck off, then!'

They were running out the door now, and on the stairs they encountered neighbours who were all interested to see what was going down.

Taffy Robin was a thorn in their side. He had people in and out at all hours of the night and day, and they had to be careful of being robbed, because an addict would not go too far from his source to steal unless he had to. These people had come home from the shops to see their TV or a video recorder gone, just enough to get the thief a few quid until the next time. Get the thief a ten-pound bag.

The flats had gone downhill since they had been built just after the Second World War, and that meant that insurance was unheard of. No company would take on the responsibility. If something was stolen, it was gone, and that was that. It had to be replaced by the individual who had lost it. The police rarely came out if called for theft or burglary, and if by any miraculous chance they did bother to come, they told the victims what they had already sussed out for themselves. It was junkies. So, other than making a cup of tea for someone Taffy's neighbours instinctively saw as an enemy anyway, and everyone knew the filth could drink tea for England, they had to sort things out for themselves.

Now, it seemed that this was finally coming to pass.

An elderly man in pyjamas and a baseball cap shouted through the door, 'Fucking do him, Freddie, he's a cancer. Fucking do him, boy.'

Freddie did not need to be told twice.

The crowbar was brought down with all the force he could muster over and over again. When Taffy stopped moving, Freddie started on the front room and he trashed it, windows, TV and anything else that got in his way.

The whole thing took twenty minutes, and he walked from the flat a conquering hero.

'Who did this to your daughter, Mrs Jackson?'

The WPC was a kind girl with nicely cut blond hair and almond-shaped green eyes. Maggie looked her over with a professional eye and decided she could take five years off and make her look like a movie star.

Jackie was not talking, and Maggie sighed as she said seriously, 'She was attacked in the street, mugged. It was her mother's birthday party tonight, and she stayed at the pub. When she couldn't get a cab, she walked. It's only ten minutes away, you know. And from what we can gather she was jumped from behind.'

'But she managed to get home?'

Jackie and Maggie nodded.

'With a broken leg?'

Jackie shrugged then. 'We found her out the front. What can I say? Maybe someone helped her, we don't know. That's your job ain't it, at least it was last time I read a crime novel.'

'What about you, Mrs Jackson, how did you get the bloody nose?'

Maggie and Jackie could see what her questions were leading to now, and Jackie said with deliberate and calculated disrespect, 'Fuck off, sweetheart. We can see where you are going with this shit.'

Maggie winked at Jackie and she walked the WPC from the little family room. 'Look, love, my sister is an alcoholic, as I am sure you probably know. You spend enough time around there sorting out her different tantrums with the neighbours. She always has cuts and bruises, drunks tend to fall over a lot.'

She yawned delicately before continuing, but it was an insulting yawn, a bored yawn and the WPC knew without a shadow of a doubt that the person boring this well-turned-out and well-spoken woman was herself.

'Now you listen, and you listen good. That girl's father is Freddie Jackson, and you had better hope you find the culprit before he does. But don't you ever dare to insinuate anything like that about my sister again, not unless you want to deal with her and hers. All right?'

The girl nodded. She knew when she was beaten. This family was a law unto itself, which was, she realised, why she had been assigned to them. She saw that now with crystal clarity. No one else wanted the aggravation, or indeed wanted to get involved at all!

The Jacksons would sort this out and the local police would let them. It was how their worlds worked.

She heard later that night in the canteen that some bloke called Mr Thomas Halpin, who was part of the Serious Crime Squad, had apparently already warned the station to back off. It was not the first time that had happened and she was sure it would not be the last.

So she would do the same as everyone else. She had tried her best, done her job, and if she was honest she hoped that Freddie Jackson did take the fucker out. If there was a nutter on the streets and Jackson cleaned him up, it would save them all a job.

She wanted to be a plain clothes one day, and if that meant letting the Jacksons have a get-out-of-jail-free card, then so be it.

Ozzy was ill and he was feeling the pain in his chest acutely. He sat up in his cell and clutched his arm. It was like a big cold weight was crushing his chest. Like a block of ice had been dropped on him from a great height.

He was sweating heavily, and his breathing was getting shallower and shallower.

He wondered if he should ring the bell, get a screw in. But he had to lie down first, he had to try to lessen this pain a bit.

Finally he fell asleep, and the pain eased.

Jackie and Maggie came home from the hospital at six thirty in the morning. The girls had stayed behind, and were told the same story, that she had been attacked by a stranger. Though none of them believed it they would keep up the pretence, especially Kimberley, who was already remembering details of her mystery attacker.

Maggie put on the kettle in the kitchen while Jackie took a bottle of vodka out of the fridge. She mixed it in a large water glass which already contained lukewarm white wine and gulped it down. Maggie watched as she poured out another drink with trembling hands, and her heart broke once more at the sorry excuse of a woman her sister had become.

'You have to make him go, Jack, you can't let him get away with that.'

Jackie looked at her in utter bewilderment. 'What you on about, you silly mare? He done a good thing, he was looking out for his own!'

The pride in Jackie's voice made her sound almost happy at her daughter's predicament. Freddie had come home, practically murdered the poor girl, caused ructions with everyone in the house, and to Jackie that was love.

Maggie wanted to laugh. 'Will you listen to yourself, Jackie? He didn't attack her because he cared about her, he attacked that girl because it's a taint on him if she's a fucking junkie. Use your loaf, wipe the shit from your eyes and see him for what he really is.'

Jackie looked at Maggie. Even in jeans and a shirt she looked lovely, perfect. She always looked perfect, always looked like an advert for healthy womanhood. But she wasn't anything, not really, she just thought she was better than everyone else.

'If his daughter is a junkie then he has to deal with other people knowing that. It's like admitting defeat, admitting he has failed as a father. It has nothing to do with you or the kids or love. It's not about you, you silly bitch, it's about him. It's always about him?

'You are wrong, Maggie. For all his faults, he loves us.'

'He treats you like dirt, he laughs at your drinking, he takes what he wants from you and then he leaves you for weeks on end and you let him. You let him, Jackie, because for some unknown reason you think that he is a wonderful person, yet he has systematically destroyed you and those kids since day one.'

Jackie shook her head then. This was getting too near the mark, too near the truth and she could not take that, not tonight, not ever. 'You are wrong, Mags, he loves us, he loves his family.'

Maggie picked up Jackie's cigarettes and lit one before saying through a sarcastic smile, 'Look around you, look at your life, at how you live. Your daughter is an addict because you are an addict. Any one of those fucking, shite-talking, pop psychology daytime TV shit shows you watch would tell you that, Jack. Kimberley has had a good teacher and it was you. You've been pissed for years Jackie. You're a fucking drunk.'

Jackie was frightened by what was being said now, she didn't want this. She just wanted to drink in peace and get a few hours' kip.

'How dare you fucking lecture me-'

Maggie said through gritted teeth and with as much menace as she could muster, 'I dare, Jackie, because someone has to tell you once and for all that this has all got to stop! The man you love hates you and you are too fucking thick to see it. Do you know that him and Jimmy earn the same money, more or less, and you are still in a council house? Love, think about it. What's he spending that dosh on, eh? It fucking ain't you and yours, is it?'

She looked around the ruin of her sister's home and then said sadly, 'It's a shit hole, Jackie. And look at fucking Little Freddie. He is off his trolley, and no one seems to care! Where is he now, eh? Still wandering the streets, I bet. And what about poor Kim? She has been on the brown for ages and you never noticed. I knew there was something wrong with her, and I tried to help her, but you never noticed! Those kids are invisible to you unless they are the reason that keeps Freddie by your side. Freddie has an eighty-grand car parked outside on the kerb, and your toilet has been broke for weeks. Don't you think that is a little bit odd? Does nothing penetrate that drink-sodden brain of yours?'

She lit another cigarette and watched as Jackie gulped at her vodka and wine once more.

'Stop it, Maggie, you say one more word and I'll fucking knock you out.'

Now Maggie did laugh. 'I ain't a kid any more, Jackie, frightened of my big sister. You raise your hand to me and I'll lay you out once and for all.'

Jackie knew what she said was true, and that was what stopped her from attacking Maggie physically. Jackie made a point of attacking only the people she knew would not fight her back. Unless she was drunk of course, when anyone was fair game, but even then she relied on the other people around her to stop the tear up at some point.

'I am trying to help you, Jackie, trying to make you see sense. Even Freddie can see you have a problem, so if he loves you so much why ain't he tried to get you any help? I know the girls have tried to talk to you, they tell me how worried they are about you, and I try and talk to you too but it's a fucking waste of time. But now you have to see the fucking big picture. Your life is a mess and you have to try and do something before it's too late.'

Jackie understood her sister genuinely wanted to help her, while the majority of the people in her immediate orbit were hangers-on who ignored her problems and just used her. But it was so hard for her to admit, because she knew no one else would want to be with her. If she let herself think about it, she would see exactly what she was, and exactly what to expect from her life.

'Go home, Mags, I can't handle this.'

Maggie sighed. 'Do you realise you ain't once mentioned the fact that your Kim is on drugs, or wondered where your son is? Do you realise that, Jack? You only mentioned it when you were telling me how your Freddie loves you. Are you going to get her any help at all? Are you going to sort out some kind of rehab, or will that be left to me as usual?'

Jackie didn't answer her.

'Look in the mirror, Jackie, smell the house you live in with your family. Look at the floor and the walls and the furniture, and then you tell me that you are all right with the way you live and I promise I will back off.'

Jackie sat down on a stool and finished her drink, and as she poured herself out another one she heard Maggie leave the house.

Jimmy and Freddie were sharing a beer in Jimmy's new snooker room. Maddie had been asked over to watch Jimmy Junior, and when Jimmy had finally picked up Freddie in the early hours he had no other option than to bring him back to his.

He knew Maggie would not be best pleased, but what else could he do? Freddie, as far as he was concerned, had done a good thing, had done what Jimmy would have done in a similar situation. Though he admitted he would not have harmed Kimberley, Freddie and his temper were legendary and he felt bad about it now.

'Fucking some drum this, Jimmy.'

Jimmy shrugged. 'It's all relative, ain't it? I like this house and so does Mags, in fact she loves it.'

'At least she looks after it for you. Not like Jackie, she wouldn't clean up if her life depended on it.'

Jimmy smiled. 'She never was one for the Hoover, old Jackie.'

They both laughed. It was the first time they had actually sat and talked properly since the night that Lenny had died. They made a great pretence of friendship, but the tension was always there between them. Tonight, though, they seemed to be back on track.

'She tried, a few times she really tried, you know. But the drink and Jackie…' For the first time ever, Freddie was talking about his wife without a joke, or a nasty remark. 'Now my Kimberley is on the skag. Ironic, ain't it? I fucking shifted enough over the years, and now my daughter is a slave to the brown.'

Jimmy refilled their brandy glasses. 'Come on, Freddie, it could happen to anyone, any family, it's part of society now.'

Freddie held up his cut-glass brandy snifter and said sarcastically, 'Thanks to us, and people like us!'

They both laughed once more.

'How's me little fella, then?'

Jimmy grinned. 'I love that little boy, Fred. He is so fucking clever, only three and he can write his name.'

Freddie nodded. 'His father's son him, eh?'

It was said with a laugh but Jimmy felt, as always, that there was an underlying current he could not put his finger on. 'What do you mean by that?'

Freddie feigned innocence. 'What on earth is wrong with you, Jim? I said he was his father's son and you are his father, right? So where is there anything to fucking mean?'

Jimmy relaxed. 'Sorry, Freddie, but sometimes I feel you are taking the piss, and you do take the piss, you know.'

Freddie sipped his brandy before saying, 'I don't, Jimmy, not with you, anyway.'

It was heartfelt and it was enough to placate Jimmy.

'He is a lovely kid, Jimmy, and I think the world of him. He is a real little Brahma, bless him. How is Maggie, by the way?'

Jimmy shrugged. 'All right, why?'

'Nothing, mate. It's just she seems very offish with everyone. Now she's always been like it with me, but Jackie thinks she is not coping that well with motherhood.'

Jimmy wanted to laugh out loud, and Freddie said in a jokey voice, 'Talk about the pot calling the kettle, eh?'

Jimmy smiled. 'She is just a perfectionist, that's all. If Maggie does a job she does it to the best of her ability.'

'Now, Jimmy, if you had a son like mine you would know what worry was. That little fucker is out all hours, roaming the streets, causing havoc. I reckon they'll take him away soon, and do you know what? I think it would be for the best.'

Jimmy was astonished. 'You'd let him go away, into a home?'

He spoke in disbelief, and Freddie answered him as honestly as he could. Needing to say the words out loud.

'Look, Jimmy, this is strictly between me and you, right?'

Jimmy nodded, intrigued.

'The other week he was accused of sexual assault. Now the little girl said it was him and his mates, but she withdrew the allegation. Jackie won't have it. She thinks the girl was up for it, it was just a kids' game, but I think that he has got something drastically wrong with him. He killed the neighbours' dog a few months back. He put a fucking plastic bag over its head and suffocated it. I know it was him. They were too frightened to accuse him outright, obviously, but I knew it was him when Jackie told me, because he killed Bugsy's boy's rabbit the same way.'

Jimmy was in utter shock at these words.

'How do you know he killed the rabbit?'

Freddie shook his head in dismay. 'I caught him. He was supposed to be caring for it while they went on holiday. I went into his room and it was on his lap, dead, and the bag was stuck to its face.'

'What did you do?'

Freddie wiped his mouth nervously before saying in a quiet voice, 'I mullered him, and then I told him that he had to keep stumm. But I tell you I was sickened, and you know me, there ain't much that can bother me. But he is a kid, and he is mad as a cunt. As soon as they said about the dog I knew it wasn't the first time.'

Jimmy nodded, but he wondered if, in all his grief, Freddie remembered his own need to hurt and his own loss of control that had caused two deaths, to his knowledge. But then Freddie lived by a different set of rules to everyone else.

'Remember we were all laughing in the pub because I said the rabbit had died and we'd put out an APB on a white fluffy rabbit with a black tail? Well, I got a new rabbit and gave it to Bugsy's boy, and he never knew the difference. I told Bugsy the other rabbit had dropped dead, but I know he wondered, could see it in his eyes.'

Freddie swallowed down a big gulp of brandy before saying angrily, 'I blame her. She was drunk all through her pregnancy, you know that. I think that affected him. I love him, he's my son, but unless something is done about him he will end up on a psych wing somewhere on a fucking no-parole life sentence.'

Freddie had seen people in prison like his son, and he had experienced them first-hand. 'He is a big fucker for his age and all. What happens when he's a six footer? Even I won't be able to handle him then, do you see what I mean now? He has got to go, and fucking Jackie, well, she won't believe there's anything amiss. He could kill everyone in the house and she'd still give him an alibi.'

'Fucking hell, Freddie, that's outrageous. Can't you get him seen to privately?'

Freddie laughed then, a tired, sad little laugh. 'Do you think spending money will change the diagnosis? Only, according to his social worker he exhibits "classic signs" – her expression, not mine – of a sociopathic personality. In short, he has no morals, no remorse, no feelings for anyone or anything, no emotions whatsoever. So what he does, right, to hide his fucking nut nut status, is he mimics them. Pretends to feel things he cannot feel. At least that is what the book said in the library.'

Jimmy knew he spoke the truth, and he felt sorry for him because he knew that Freddie, for all his faults, did in his own way care for his kids. Little Freddie had kept this man tied to a drunken woman he loathed. Though, of course she also suited Freddie at times because she put up with anything he could throw at her.

He found it hard to believe this was his blood relative, the man he had once looked up to, loved and admired. Now he was often hard put to even talk with him, and if Freddie knew just how much Ozzy had given over to his cousin in the last few years, he knew that Freddie would not be able to cope with it. He knew Freddie saw himself as the instigator of their empire, and he accepted the truth of this. But Freddie also conveniently forgot that if it had been left to him, they would have both been back on the pavement hustling within a year. He had wiped out Clancy and that act had given them the opportunity, but it was him, Jimmy, who had brought them to where they were now. Freddie needed to accept and understand that, but instead he saw himself as having been done down, the street expression for his situation. If he only looked at how he lived, not a penny to call his own, expensive things bought for cash and then left to go to wrack and ruin. And Jimmy knew he had never once put a few quid away for a rainy day.

Yet this was the man who honestly believed he should be running what in effect, if legit, would be the equivalent of a big corporate company. They dealt with Europe, Africa, the Far East. Anywhere there was drugs or contraband to be exploited. Freddie did not know the half of it, and never would if it was left to him.

'So what are you going to do about him, Freddie?'

He shrugged. 'Only fuck himself knows the answer to that one, mate, and he ain't talking.'

Ozzy was glad when the cell was opened by a screw he trusted and owned. He motioned for him to come to where he sat on the bed and then he asked him to get two other inmates as he wanted to see them.

The man nodded.

Five minutes later, a young Irishman called Deny and a large black man called David bowled into the cell.

'What you want, Oz?'

He smiled. 'Get me to the wing doctor. Last night I was doing press ups when I cracked me fucking ribs.'

They laughed, as he knew they would but they did what they were asked.

Ozzy knew, one sniff of weakness and he might as well lie down and wait for the chiv to arrive. This way he had a valid reason to see the quack, and he knew the doctor well. He had been dealing out fucking contraband to the cons for years.

Maggie walked into the snooker room with young Jimmy in her arms, and smiled tightly at the two men. 'Shouldn't you be at home with your wife?' Freddie had noticed that over the years she had become more and more cocky towards him and he also knew that the more she pushed him, the more he would make her life a misery. Sometimes he left her alone for months, then out of the blue, when Jimmy had overlooked him, or he heard a whisper that Jimmy was involved with something he knew nothing about, he would remember this little piece before him and it would all start again.

'Come on, Mags, would you want to go home to Jackie?' Then, holding out his arms, he said to the child, 'Come to me, my little darling. He's his daddy's boy all right, like the spit out of his mouth.'

Maggie snorted in derision. Placing the boy carefully on the carpet, she said nicely, 'Go to Nana, sweetheart, while Mummy talks to Daddy.'

Even her voice was wrong when she spoke to the child, even her endearments sounded forced, but Jimmy Junior did as he was bidden.

'You stop trying to be nice to my boy, and try being nice to your own fucking kids. How about Kim, then? You going to see her? Only, you know you broke her leg, don't you?'

Freddie didn't know this, and Freddie didn't much care.

Jimmy said calmly, 'Come on, Maggie, this is not the time or the place.'

She snapped her head towards her husband and said angrily, 'Well, I am sorry, Jimmy, but I think it is.'

Freddie laughed then. 'Careful, you don't want to be in the doghouse now, do you?'

Maggie walked towards where he was sitting. It was a big room, with a snooker table and a pool table. It had a large and well-stocked bar and it was wood panelled. One of these men was the love of her life and the other was the canker that had grown inside her for so long she felt that she would explode with hatred. Yet she had to tolerate him no matter what. Because if the truth ever came out she would lose everything, and so would everyone she held dear.

The huge fireplace had a large leather wing chair on each side, and the men were sitting there as if they did not have a worry in the world. This made her so angry she felt she could physically attack them.

'Don't you try and cause a fucking row with me and him. Unlike you, Freddie, my husband respects me, and I respect him. But I would not expect you to understand that concept because you treat everyone in your family like shit. By the way, Kim is going into rehab. I sorted that out today, so you needn't worry about her. Not that you would.'

She was poking her finger into his face now and he could see the hate inside her.

'But I tell you now, Freddie, my sister is in bits and you need to talk to her about her drinking because for some unknown reason she thinks you care about her. So put your drink down, and get a cab, and fuck off out of my home.'

'You going to let her talk to me like that, Jimmy?'

Jimmy got up and stretched before saying, 'She has got a point, Freddie. It's time I got ready for work, anyway.'

Freddie couldn't believe what he was hearing. In his book Maggie should be getting the clump of a lifetime for that little outburst. Instead, she was still in his face.

'If you have anything else to say to my husband about me, say it now. Now, do you hear me? I dare you to say it to him now.' Her eyes told Freddie that he had lost this game, that she was angry enough to let the cat out of the bag.

Better to retreat on this occasion, and gather his ammunition for the future. Freddie put his drink down and walked silently from the room.

When the front door slammed Maggie turned to Jimmy and said sadly, 'Thanks, Jimmy.'

'I liked the way you fronted him. In his book I should have slapped you one upside your head. But he's a Neanderthal, he don't mean the half of it.'

'I can't have him here any more, Jimmy, not after this little lot. Poor Kim, and fucking Jackie, well…'

'I understand. I'll keep his visits to the minimum, all right?'

She smiled her thanks and he hugged her to him. For once she let him, relaxed against him.

At the breakfast table she was even relaxed with Jimmy Junior, even hugged him with real care and attention. He felt as if they had crossed over some invisible line, but why he should think that he had no idea.

Maddie, who had stayed for breakfast, winked at Jimmy from across the table, and it occurred to him that Freddie had left without even acknowledging his own mother's existence.

Chapter Twenty

Maggie and Rox were laughing as they chose the material for Rox's bedroom curtains. She was finally getting married to Dicky, and her happiness was complete.

'Oh, Maggie, that is lovely. You have such good taste.'

Maggie smiled. She had chosen a soft grey silk that she knew would look stunning against the pale pink paint that Rox was determined to have on her walls.

'Once you get married you have to live with this for a long time, so make sure you choose something that is not only good quality, but also durable.' She could hear herself giving this child advice, and all she wanted to do was go back and drag that lazy drunken sister of hers out with them.

Not that Jackie would be any use, but it was terrible that everything to do with this wedding and their new home was left to her to sort out. Maggie didn't mind, it was just that she knew Rox really wanted her parents to be involved. Her mother at least – Rox had never been her father's biggest fan.

Jimmy Junior ran up to her and Maggie picked him up with difficulty. At four he was getting a large lad, and she kissed him on his cheek as he said in excitement, 'I saw a clown, Mummy.'

The clown was a poster on the wall, and she knew he would ask to go to the circus, and she knew she would take him.

'It's the circus, Mummy.'

'And you are going, honey!'

He laughed out loud and she kissed him once more.

Rox watched them and sighed happily. Maggie was all right now, and had been for some time. It was as if she had changed overnight, she was happier, more carefree. And Rox loved her more than anyone in her life except her Dicky boy.

But Maggie went off at the drop of a hat these days, and everyone knew it. One word out of place and she was up for a fight. It was so out of character, yet so much a part of her now, part of this new and improved Maggie, that everyone just accepted it.

'You know you have to sort me out first, before you take any kind of a cut. That is what happens in this place no matter who you are.'

Ozzy's voice was heavy with anger and the man he was talking to was wondering if he was in with a chance of retribution. He looked around him, and wisely decided he wasn't.

Ozzy was impressed, though, that the young chap had actually considered trying to fight his way out of this reprimand, and this endeared the boy to him.

'Look, Ozzy, I didn't think you would be interested, mate.'

Ozzy laughed and shook his head slowly as if in the presence of the stupidest man in history. And he wondered if Carl Waters was the stupidest man in history.

He spoke loudly in his deep, serious voice, because unfortunately he had no other. 'Do not take me for a cunt. I know you run with a good crowd, but remember, son, they are out there, and you are in here. Any more cuntish behaviour and you will be on the hospital wing, see.'

Carl nodded, but he knew instinctively that Ozzy wasn't going to hold this against him. Ozzy was a realist and he would probably have tried it on just the same if he had been in his place.

'I am sorry, Ozzy. I am a mug, you are right. I just wanted a bit of dosh, that's all, and I have a little bloke who is willing to weigh me out.'

Ozzy grinned. 'You will ply your trade, son, I've no dispute with that. You will just trade in my name and give me a good drink, see. We ain't fucking that behind the times, though it seems like we are still in a feudal society to newcomers.'

It was more than the lad had expected, and he left the cell with a cheery demeanour a few minutes later.

Ozzy slipped a tablet under his tongue, and marvelled at a young man who had so much going for him, yet was happily taking the fall for a couple of complete fucking tossers. Carl had been on a robbery with two so-called Faces. The filth had jumped them on the chop, where they would change cars, clothes and if necessary divvy up the money before going their separate ways, which meant they must have been grassed up. How else would filth know where the chop was going to take place? This was a calculated fucking event, and this poor boy had been the fall guy.

So he had been caught, had kept stumm about who his accomplices were, and got himself an eighteen stretch. All his youth would be spent in this dump, while the older, wiser 'Faces' would still be on the outside plying their trades.

It was a fucking crying shame really, but the boy could be of use to him. He was young, he was willing and he could keep his trap shut.

Ozzy was ill. For a while now he had been on heart medication and he wasn't sure if he could do this any more. He needed to talk to Jimmy properly, and he decided it would be on the next visit. He was losing the urge for it all, and once that happened in their environment, you were living on borrowed time.

His sister Patricia was still trumping anything with a nice smile and a big cock, Freddie Jackson included, and he didn't entirely trust her any longer. As she was getting older she was getting less choosy about who she knocked about with, and this was becoming a worry to him.

He had serious poke and serious business to sort out, and now he was ill he had to do it. He had worked hard for his wedge and he had enjoyed the making of his money. So many people lost sight of that buzz when they made it to the big time, lost the want, and lost the respect for money that was actually a requisite for being rich. The spending of it had never been his forte, but the gathering of it was something he had lain awake at nights planning. He wanted to give his wealth to someone like him, someone who would use it wisely, someone who would understand just what it had taken to gather it in the first place.

He had to get his house in order, and he had to do it sooner rather than later.

He snapped his head around to look at his portable TV Emmerdale was just starting and he loved to see the wide open spaces it showed. He was sorry now he had never bothered with the Dales when he had been on the out. They looked lovely, stunning. So he enjoyed watching them by proxy, on Emmerdale Farm.

The birds were fit as well, so it was not a completely wasted half hour.

But he wished he could explain to the general population that even though they might go to Spain or America and travel all over the world, they did not know their own country. This annoyed him now, because he had realised over the years just what a green and pleasant land it actually was. If he had a chance to do anything different, it would be to make sure he travelled around England. People came from far and wide to live here. They saw it as a haven and as a place to make something of themselves, and it took all this time in stir for him to understand just where those people were coming from. Like the old adage, you never knew what you had till it was gone.

Well, that could be said of the people he had been dealing with all these years.

He was finally going to make his last will and testament, and he knew it would cause fucking ructions. So be it.

'Where is he, Jackie?'

She was panicking and this was annoying her husband.

'I don't know, Freddie.'

'Then you fucking well should! What the fuck are you getting my wedge for, eh? You can't even look out for little Fred. You know he is on a curfew, so where the fuck is he?'

Jackie could have skinned her son alive at this moment because his fuck-up had caused them to have a row. Freddie had put him on a curfew and, unlike every other time he had tried to rein his son in, this had been adhered to because Freddie had made a point of checking his son was at home. She was happy about this in one way, because it meant he spent more time with them, and not with his other women. But it was also nerve-wracking because Little Freddie didn't think he should be timed, thought he was too old and experienced to be treated like a child.

His father was not a man to be mugged off but although she had tried to explain this to her son many times, he wouldn't listen to her. He had never listened to her, that was the trouble.

As they stood in the front room like adversaries in a boxing match, the front door opened and Little Freddie strolled in with all the arrogance he possessed. He was enormous, and he was Freddie's double, but unlike his father, who had been a tearaway at his age, this boy was in deep trouble. It was only Freddie who could keep him in check. Jackie knew this, and she was glad someone could keep him in line, but she still could not bear to see him told off, in trouble or accused of anything.

Little Freddie stood in front of his mother and father and cleared his throat noisily. It was a calculated insult.

Freddie looked at his son and wondered for the hundredth time why he bothered with him. But he was not the usual little fuck, he was a dangerous little fuck. Well, the buck stopped here. He pointed his finger at him and said loudly, 'Where you fucking been, then?'

Jackie tried to lighten the situation by saying cheerfully, 'Here he is! I told you he would be here, didn't I?'

Freddie pushed her away from him and, looking at his son, said in a deep and angry voice, 'You telling me you can't tell the time?'

Little Freddie was staring at his father, and there was not one iota of fear in him despite his father's anger. Freddie knew this boy was out of order, that he was off the fucking scale and he was determined to bring him back to the fold, whatever it took.

The questions and answers then came thick and fast and without any kind of hesitation on either side.

'I said, where have you fucking been?'

'Out.'

'Out where?'

The boy shrugged. 'Just out with me mates.'

'What mates?'

'Just mates.'

'Do they have names?'

'Do yours?'

Freddie's fist connected with his son's chin so fast that the boy didn't have time to move away and protect himself. He was not expecting it, and he was even more surprised when his father followed through with another punch and then began beating him viciously.

Jackie watched her son as he was punched across the room, landing in a crumpled heap on the sofa, and she saw his father descend on him with that look on his face she deplored. She was screaming now, she was like a mad woman. No one hurt her baby, no one.

'Leave him alone!'

Freddie grabbed her arms and forcefully threw her from the living room, shutting the door behind her. Then he carried on the interrogation as if they had never been interrupted.

'What mates?'

His son was looking at him with open hatred and Freddie didn't care. He needed to know where he had been.

'Were you in the subway today?'

He saw Little Freddie's eyes widen and knew that what he had suspected was true, and no one was more sorry than him.

'So you were, then?'

Little Freddie shook his head in denial, with tears in his eyes. 'No, Dad, please, it wasn't me, it was them…'

Freddie looked at his son and wondered if he should do the world a favour and wipe him off the face of the earth now.

'Where the fuck is he, Jimmy?'

Jimmy held his arms out in supplication. 'How the fuck am I supposed to know that? What am I all of a sudden, Freddie's fucking dad?'

The anger in his voice did not go unnoticed by the other men in the pub's back room. Glenford, ever the peacemaker, said in a reasonable way, 'Relax, this is only a meet.'

Amos Beardsley knew he had overstepped the mark and was contrite. Everyone knew Freddie was a nutter, but Jimmy was the one to be seriously frightened of. Jimmy didn't need anger to hurt people, Jimmy needed just cause. A different thing altogether. With Jimmy, violence was always the last resort, and that meant whoever was in the frame was in deep shit.

He might have started out as Ozzy's front man but he was a main man now in his own right and, like all the big money makers, no one heard about him until it was too late. He surrounded himself with names, and yet he had never personally even had a parking ticket.

'Any chance of a drink?'

Glenford's voice was jovial. They all breathed a sigh of relief, including Jimmy, who knew what his friend was doing. 'Come with me, Glen, and we'll bring in a few bottles.'

They left the room. Once outside and in the bar area, Jimmy said quietly, 'I could fucking stomp that cunt, I really could.'

Glenford ordered the drinks and then pulled Jimmy to the main door and out into the cold night air. 'Stop it, Jim, you need to do damage limitation now. Freddie has had them over. You know that, I know it, he knows it, but more importantly, they know it. Now, boy, you have to give them their due. Do it with a bit of respect and they will let it go. Then you have to collar Freddie and read him the riot act once and for all.'

Jimmy didn't answer, but Glenford's easy-going, slowly spoken but serious-sounding West Indian accent was penetrating his brain.

'Me mean it, Jimmy. This have affected my earn as well, you know, and my boys are fit to be tied. Blood is blood, we accept that, but this is not the first time. They have only come to you now because Freddie won't listen to any kind of reason. Now he has disrespected them by not even bothering to turn up here tonight. These are Africans, and they won't care who he is, or who he working for. They will not forget this. And they are earners, boy, good earners. Not a fucking liability like some I could mention.'

Jimmy looked at his friend, and he was a friend. He loved this man and he knew Glenford loved him. In their world, real friends were few and far between.

'What am I going to do about him, Glen? It's like he thinks he is a separate entity, like he believes he is a law unto himself.'

Glenford smiled then, that friendly gap-toothed smile that had guaranteed him women and sexual favours all his life, and he answered his friend now with absolute truthfulness. 'But he is his own law, Jimmy. You have seen to that. No matter what he does, you protect him, and now I am going to tell you something that you won't want to hear. He cunts you, he has even tried to cunt you to me. Many times, and he knows we are close. In drink he is a fucking treacherous bastard, and you got to rein him in, sooner rather than later, because if you don't, you will lose your self-respect as well as everyone else's.'

Glenford was telling Jimmy something he had known for a long time but had not allowed himself to accept. He had let himself believe that Freddie lived by the same rules as he did, but he knew in his heart that Freddie was not capable of that. Freddie saw himself as above them all, himself included. He had to put the hard word on him, and he had to do it soon, but he was dreading it. Not because he was frightened of him, but because he knew it would be the end of them.

'Leave him alone, Freddie, you'll fucking kill him.' Jackie had run back into the room and was trying to drag her husband off her son and stop the beating that was starting to look like a murder.

'You little bastard, you fucking little cunt!'

Freddie was so angry he was spitting, and Jackie knew in her heart that this was serious because he wouldn't bother unless it was for a good reason.

She pushed herself in between them. 'Tell me what he's supposed to have done.'

She sounded like she knew he was going to give her a load of old fanny. As if he would cunt his own son unless he had to! This was not getting them anywhere. All the time his mother was there Little Freddie felt that he would be in with a chance.

So Freddie pushed his wife away roughly, but even he felt sorry for the woman who was still trying to hang on to a child, to a dream, that had never been there.

Little Freddie hated her. He hated everyone.

Jackie, the drunken fucking prat, really seemed to think that Little Freddie was just a tearaway, that everything he did was just kids playing. She had to know by now that was not true, she had to have realised by now that he was not normal, that he was lacking something, was not the full ten shillings.

'Well, come on, tell me what you think he's done now.'

She was actually fronting him up, yet he could hear the fear in her voice. She suspected her son of being the perpetrator of something terrible, but she was more scared of hearing about it than of the actual deed. So, as usual, she would try to pretend that it was everyone else's fault but his.

She was yelling at the top of her voice. 'You never give him a chance, do you, Freddie? You always try and make out that he is doing something wrong. Well, he was with me all day. What have you got to say about that, then?'

Freddie shook his head, as was his usual habit when faced with Jackie and her ramblings. 'Go and have a drink, Jack. I brought you in a bottle of good vodka to keep you out of my fucking face while I sorted this ponce out once and for all.'

'But what is he supposed to have done?'

Freddie decided to tell her the score. He dropped his son on to the floor without even looking at him. He then walked his wife out to their kitchen, or what passed as a kitchen anyway, and he said in total seriousness, 'Pour yourself a large one, Jack, you are going to need it.'

She sat on the stool nearest to her and started to cry. Pouring her a neat vodka, Freddie said, 'Sexual assault and mugging, Jackie. That is just for starters, love. We bred a fucking right good one, us.'

Jackie was shaking her head vigorously, she was denying that anything like that could ever happen in their family. She was really sobbing now, a noisy, frightened crying that told her husband that despite this denial, on one level she believed everything he was going to say without even hearing the facts.

'No, Freddie, you are wrong, not our boy, not my baby…'

Freddie dragged his wife up off the stool and whispered into her face with such hate and anger she was terrified all over again. 'She was eighty years old, Jack, and she was robbed and assaulted. And it ain't the first time he has done something like this either. I was guilty of letting it go the last time. I sorted it for him because that's what we do, ain't it, for our kids? But not this time, I ain't going to do it, he is a fucking nonce, a nonce, and I ain't fucking turning a blind eye. You had better shut your fucking trap, before I fucking shut it for you once and for all. He is a fucking beast and we have to sort this cunt out now!'

Jackie was bawling now. She was in bits, and she was also petrified that what Freddie was saying was true.

'You are wrong, Freddie, he is a little boy!'

For the first time in years Freddie felt something for his wife, he was so impressed with her loyalty towards their son. If Little Freddie had robbed a bank or even murdered someone he would have stood beside her and lied with her. But this was different, this was wrong. This was beasting, this was about the fucking nonces on the VPU units. This was so far out of his sphere it frightened him. Supposing this boy did something and people heard about it, knew that this fucking sex offender was his flesh and blood.

'It was Mrs Caldwell, your old granny's mate! They robbed her, assaulted her and then, how is this for a fucking party piece, Jackie, they set fire to a fucking tramp who had tried to help the poor old cow!'

Jackie was now on the edge, she was hysterical. 'He wouldn't do anything like that, Freddie, he ain't like that. My baby ain't like that… Why ain't they come for him, then? Why ain't Old Bill come here, eh?'

Freddie sighed. 'I was told about Mrs Caldwell by the attending officer. As luck would have it, we pay him off. He alerted me to what was going on, Jackie, and I have had to lay out serious wedge to keep this fucking ponce out of the nick. Now will you fucking believe me, Jackie? I only gave this cunt a pass because I can't live with what he's done. Or with people knowing what he's done. Can't you fucking understand that much at least?'

Little Freddie lay on the sofa in the living room and listened to his parents arguing. He knew from experience that eventually they would forget about him. He had fucked up, but for all his father's threats he wouldn't really put him away. He would ground him, watch him, and give him another curfew.

Then it would die down. The man who had sired him would find other things to do, and his mother would let him out and lie for him as always.

All in all, he had got off lightly.

Jackie came into the living room and gave her baby a gentle hug. She had finally understood where her husband was coming from, but no matter what he said or what he threatened, her son was going nowhere. He was not bad. If only Freddie could see him like she saw him. He was only a kid. Because he was a big boy for his age people thought that he was older than he was and tried to treat him like an adult. But he was only a kid and Freddie was too hard on him.

Everyone was against them, since day one she had fought against getting any kind of help. He was just a child and because his last name was Jackson he was ostracised and picked on by everyone. The filth hated him, the courts hated him, the social workers looked at her as if she was dirt! They had it in for him and all. He was her baby, her last-born, and she was not about to let anyone tell her that he was bad.

He was in with the wrong crowd, and because he was such a big fucker people remembered him more than the others. He was easily led, and that was all that was wrong with him. They wanted him to be put away, put in care, or stuck in some fucking home, some fucking institution. Well, not while she still had a breath in her body. She would fight for her baby, she would keep him home with her. No one was going to take him anywhere.

She knew inside that none of this was true, that the name Jackson actually stopped anything even remotely like that happening, but it was the only way she could cope with her son's problems.

She was grateful for the vodka Freddie had brought in for her, although it also told her how bad this had become. But as ever she pushed all the terrible things from her mind, drank herself stupid and made a point of forgetting anything detrimental to her own peace of mind or wellbeing.

Freddie had fucked off and for once she was glad he had gone out. Over the years she had wanted him home so badly, but now she didn't care either way. Her Little Freddie was sitting with her, cuddling her, and she didn't need anyone else. He was her life, and no one would take him from her.

Now she was drunk as a skunk, she told Little Freddie that over and over again.

Maggie was lying on the bed with her son. He was asleep in her arms and she marvelled at the love she had for him. When she looked at him she wondered how she had ever let Freddie dictate her feelings for someone so precious, someone who had come from her own body. He was half hers, half of him was made up of her and she had let her hate for Freddie come between her and her child.

Her child.

Since the day she had fronted Freddie up, she had felt so much better. She felt she had taken the power back, even though that expression irritated her, especially when she heard it from complete drongos on daytime talk shows, who had no concept of real women's problems. She knew what having real power over someone meant. She had lived with it day in and day out for so long.

Freddie had possessed the power over her because she had been terrified he would tell his wife what had happened and Jackie would blame her because she could never admit that her husband was capable of raping her sister.

It was Jackie's reaction she had been most afraid of.

She had also been so scared that Freddie would tell her husband, tell everyone they knew that he had slept with her, and she had believed that everyone would think it had been by choice. Now, all this time later, she knew no one would think that she would even contemplate touching him.

Now, she was happy, happier anyway, than she had been in years.

Seeing Kimberley in the hospital that night, and seeing Jackie for what she really was, a fucking coward and a drunk, had made her understand her own fears and her own problems.

Telling Jackie that she would lay her out had been such a big step for her. All her life her elder sister had dictated to her, told her what to do, given her advice, slagged her off, insulted her. She had treated Jackie like some kind of fucking goddess when, in reality, she was a drunk. A manipulating, vicious, drunken bitch who for some reason she had always felt a strong and genuine love towards. And she had always assumed that the feeling had been reciprocated. Now Maggie wasn't so sure. She knew Jackie ran her down to her mates and talked badly about her within the family.

Maggie had also realised that, whatever happened between her and Jackie, she wouldn't lose the girls' love. She had taken them over many years before and they loved and needed her. The girls would still be there, whether she was talking to Jackie or not.

So she had told her sister what she thought of her, and gone home to find Freddie trying once more to inveigle his way into her confidence, into her mind and, worst of all, into her real life with her husband.

He had sat in her house with her man, and she had finally had enough. She had wanted him to tell Jimmy what had happened so badly. She was sick of keeping it secret, protecting people who did not deserve her care or her protection.

If she had never seen Jackie again she wouldn't give a fuck. She felt, for the first time in years, free, unencumbered, light-hearted and indifferent about who she might hurt if anything did come out.

Fuck them all, her Jimmy included. It was knowing that she didn't now care about how he would react that had actually made it all so much easier. Jimmy had become the one she had been trying to protect, and Jimmy was the strongest of them all.

She had dared Freddie to spill the beans and he had walked away. She had taken back the power.

Now, she was happy. She loved her boy, had always loved her boy – the half that was hers anyway – but thanks to Freddie she felt so guilty about the circumstances of his conception she had found it hard to watch her Jimmy being his father. And loving Jimmy so much, she had been terrified that Freddie would let the secret out, just to prove a point, just to make trouble. Just to teach her a lesson.

But that night she had discovered that he was wary of Jimmy, scared of him in fact. And she had finally sussed out that Jimmy was the reason it had started in the first place.

Things weren't all back to normal, but she was trying to make things right, and if Freddie would only leave them in peace, their lives would be so much better.

And look at his kids. Without her, what the fuck would the girls do? He was not even interested in Rox getting married. She had made a fucking good match in their world, and he had no interest.

Jackie had no interest in any of them either. Kimberley was off the gear, and Maggie had helped her get a flat, but neither Jackie nor Freddie had bothered to go and see her, which had hurt the girl. Maggie knew how she felt, knew how it was when you had let people down, but these were people who let themselves down and Kimberley was better off without them. All the girls were better off without them. Even Dianna was seeing a little fucker, and would be gone before they knew it. Neither of them gave a shit, yet when Freddie finally found out who the bloke was, Maggie knew the Third World War would erupt.

Why was one person allowed to have so much power? Why did everyone feel the need to make his life easier when all he did was use people? And Jackie was just the same, full of her own self-importance.

Maggie had pointed out to Jimmy that he paid the wages, not Freddie, and yet he still fucking pandered to him. She knew it had hurt Jimmy, she knew it was a provocative statement, but as she had said it time and time again, who the fuck did Freddie Jackson think he was? What gave him the right to treat people like he did, including her Jimmy, her husband?

She had argued that with Jimmy the night before. He had been telling her how Freddie was still conning money off people. Big news on the grapevine that was. All these years later, he was still nicking pennies and halfpennies off fucking no necks. And she had told Jimmy, 'You give him his power, and until you take it away from him he will always be trouble.'

Now she had his daughters' lives in her hand, and she wanted to help them out because she loved them. Like her little son, she knew he was only half of them, and the other half was nothing to do with him and his life.

For all that, though, Little Freddie was scary, and she knew that he was on borrowed time. She made sure her little man was never in his orbit for any length of time, and that he was never alone with him.

If it was left with her now, she would blank Freddie and Jackie without a second's thought. They were just not worth the aggravation.

Jimmy Junior opened his eyes and she smiled at him. He sat up and she kissed his handsome face and she tickled him until he was screeching with laughter.

This was her life now, this boy, her baby, and she was determined to make his life everything it could possibly be.

Chapter Twenty-One

'Look, Jimmy, I had a lot on my fucking plate.'

It was obvious that Jimmy thought that Freddie was taking the piss. He laughed in derision and annoyance. 'You had a lot on your plate? I had Amos here, Glenford, the whole fucking shebang. It was like the Black and White Minstrel Show - your term for the meet if I remember rightly, not mine. Remember now, do you? The meet where you should have talked your way out of the shit? Ring any fucking bells, does it?'

Jimmy's sarcasm and open animosity were so unusual that Freddie was for once speechless. Jimmy never goaded him, Jimmy never lost his rag, that was Freddie's department, not Jimmy's. Freddie was the wild card, he was the one no one knew how to deal with. Not Jimmy. Jimmy was the placid one, the thinker, the fucking brains of the outfit, according to the gossip.

'You made me look a right fucking knob. Well, not any more, Freddie. You can go and fuck yourself from now on, and I mean that.'

Jimmy lit a cigarette and pulled on it deeply before saying, 'These are shit, how can people buy them!' He put the cigarette out and rummaged through his desk until he found another pack. The cigarette he had lit the first time was Chinese contraband. They looked like Benson amp; Hedges, they were in the same packaging, and they had the same health warnings. However, they were made and rolled in China and sold off here for a fraction of the original cigarettes' asking price. The tobacco was cheap, they were easy to manufacture and they were selling like hot cakes thanks to Gordon Brown and his determination to make smokers into the elite. Jimmy, however, always knew a snide fag, and he hated them.

He lit up again, his fury still evident. 'I tell you, Fred, I looked at Amos and all the others and I could see their point. Why should they have you ripping them off, eh? Who are you to do that to them? What gives you the fucking right to have them over when they are only grafting a living the same as us?'

Freddie was astonished. Jimmy had always tried to be respectful of him and his feelings, and he knew he had not always given young Jimmy the same respect back.

'It was Little Freddie, he is in big trouble…'

Jimmy waved his hands in dismissal. 'Oh, fuck off, Freddie. His whole life will be trouble, he is his father's son. You left me standing on my Jacksy like a fucking cunt, and I had some serious people here because of you. And I have had enough. Do you hear me? You and me are that far-' he held up the thumb and forefinger of his right hand about an inch apart – 'from fucking falling out altogether. You fucking cheap ponce. I had to kiss their arses over fucking twenty grand! Twenty fucking grand they were light, and it wasn't the first time, was it? Jesus Christ, but fucking Ozzy had you fucking taped from the off.'

Freddie had never seen Jimmy like this, he had never seen him so angry or so uncontrolled in what he was saying. Jimmy always thought before he spoke, even in anger, and Freddie knew this could mean he was on his way out.

He watched Jimmy as he walked around the office. His huge shoulders and his taut body denoted a man who looked after himself, and Jimmy did just that. He took care of himself inside and out. He also took care of everyone around him, and that was the bugbear.

Now Freddie was finally accepting that Jimmy was the better man and it was too late. Jimmy had reached the end of his tether and Freddie was wise enough to know when it was best to keep quiet. Let him get it out of his system.

'Don't worry, I weighed them out, Fred, don't you fucking worry about that. I weighed them out and gave them a drink on top for their trouble. You cost me a fucking fortune, but what I can't understand is where your poke goes! You don't even possess a decent bit of clobber. You must spunk it up like no one's business. You earn a serious fucking wage and you got fuck all to show for it. You are thieving off my workers and they are not earning anything near your fucking wages, and so I want to know, where the fuck is it all going?'

Freddie didn't answer him, but just shrugged nonchalantly.

Jimmy sighed. This was the older cousin he had always loved, and who he had once revered. All he saw now was a large man with a beer gut and a bad attitude who was ageing fast. He could not for the life of him understand what was going on in Freddie's head, what was making him tick, and the worst thing of all was, he had stopped caring.

Maggie was right. He had carried Freddie all these years out of guilt, but as she had pointed out so many times, if Ozzy had wanted Freddie to run the businesses he would have given them to Freddie. But he hadn't, he had given them over to Jimmy, and now he had to finally and irrevocably make that point. Freddie seemed to think that he had been done over, but Ozzy had decided that Jimmy was to be the main player and so anything that Freddie thought was now moot.

It was Ozzy's world they lived in. Ozzy still pulled the strings and called the shots as he always had done, and it was Ozzy who had given Jimmy the main shots. Ozzy was the number one and the sooner Freddie understood that, the sooner they could all get on with their lives.

He was a fucking albatross hanging round their necks and, as Maggie also said, although she was related to him by marriage and Jimmy was related to him by blood, that did not give him any Brownie points where Ozzy was concerned.

Jimmy knew she was right, and the last few days had just proved her point. He just wished that he had brought this out into the open years ago.

'You are out, Freddie, out of the main drag. You will be on an earner now and you will be nothing but a collector. You can kiss goodbye to anything else until you show me you can be fucking trusted.'

Freddie was convinced he was hearing things. 'You what? A collector, me?'

Jimmy nodded, and Freddie was reminded of just how far his little cousin had come. Jimmy was a man's man. He had the presence of a leader, and he also had the backing of Ozzy and all his counterparts. Freddie knew that Jimmy deserved everything he had accomplished, but that knowledge did not make it any easier for him. Now, this boy was seriously considering putting him on to the collecting, like he was a fucking no one, a fucking no neck.

It was outrageous, it was unbelievable, and it was also long overdue. If the boot had been on the other foot he would have aimed Jimmy out long ago.

'Don't do this, Jimmy. I mean it, you do this to me, humiliate me in front of everyone, and that is me and you finished.'

Jimmy looked into Freddie's face. He saw the worry there, and the hate, and he suddenly saw again the man he had looked up to all those years before.

He couldn't do it to him.

He knew he should row him out, because Freddie's penchant for trouble would one day be their downfall. But he could not take away from Freddie the only thing that gave him real pleasure. His job with Ozzy and his belief that they were equals was what made his life bearable, but it was also the thing that made him so unhappy. He knew he was not a real partner, he must know. But even after all this, he could not bring himself to destroy his Freddie. He loved him, even though he had not liked him for years.

'You listen to me, Freddie, and you listen good. I'll give you one more fucking chance, and if you even think about mugging off anyone, me included, you will be out on your fucking arse. Do you hear me? I mean it, you have caused me untold fucking trouble over the years. I have had to talk Ozzy down, lie to him, and fucking argue with him about you. I know you see me as your usurper, but Ozzy chose me to be the go-between, you lost any chance of being his number one years ago.'

Freddie was quiet, he was listening for once, and Jimmy knew that this had to be said now, while Freddie was willing to listen to him.

'Ozzy hears everything in there. I tell you, he has a better fucking network than Bill Gates and the Pope put together, and he hears everything. He knew about the brass you topped. He even knew she had your kid, and I have never ever discussed that with him. You think that I have deliberately set out to do you down and take what's yours. I know what you say about me in the pubs and the clubs, Freddie, people can't wait to tell me when you bad-mouth me. But I swallowed because you are my blood, and you are my family. But it has got to stop.'

Freddie sighed heavily, puffing out his cheeks like a kid, and making a loud noise. 'Well, that has told me, ain't it?'

Jimmy had to stifle the urge to smack the man before him in the mouth. He shook his head slowly and said with quiet desperation, 'I can't do this no more, Freddie. I have been carrying you for years. You might not think I have, but I can assure you that is the truth. Now I have tried my hardest to keep us on an even keel, keep us together, like partners, but that has become impossible. You can't be trusted any more. Since Lenny you have been too unreliable for me, Fred. Your temper and your carrying on will get us all a capture if you ain't careful. You have been lucky up till now, and I have stepped in a few times to see you all right, but this last lot has finished me. You stood me up in public like I was a cunt. Not a phone call, not a fucking message, nothing. Well, you try and take a fucking bean in future, one fucking quid goes on the missing list, and I tell you now, Freddie, I swear on my boy's life, I will fucking finish you off meself.'

Freddie stood and watched Jimmy. One thing he had going for him was that he knew when he was beaten. Well, he would wait and he would watch, and when the time was right he would strike. He knew Jimmy had every right to say what he had said. He was aware he was just a fucking ornament, that point had been rammed down his throat. He was just a fucking heavy who had believed he was in a partnership, and now he knew the score. He would keep his head down and his arse up, as the old boys in the docks used to say, meaning they would do their collar and that was all, no overtime, no nothing. Well, as his old mum was always saying, God paid back debts without money.

Dianna was dressed to kill. She was a small girl, with high breasts and a very slim frame. Her thick brown hair was her crowning glory. It was beautiful and she knew it was the envy of every woman who came into contact with her.

In her short black dress she looked older and sophisticated, which was exactly what she was aiming for.

Dianna was also very pretty, and she knew how to make the best of herself, thanks to Maggie who had let the girls work for her as soon as they were old enough, or expelled from school, whatever came first. She wondered what they would have done without their Mags sometimes. She had always made sure they had things, little things, like Tampax and deodorants, things that their mother wouldn't dream of wasting money on. Yet Maggie had known how important those things were to young girls when even toothpaste had not been seen as a necessity by Jackie. And Maggie would bring it round their house by the carrier bag, along with all the other little things that made them feel good about themselves.

Now Dianna was sitting in a pub in Bow dressed to kill, or thrill as Maggie had said to make her laugh. She was waiting for a man she was so besotted with she couldn't eat, sleep or concentrate, because he had taken over every aspect of her life. She thought about him constantly. It was as if her life had been on hold until he had arrived, and she suddenly knew the reason why she had been put on this earth.

They were all brought up Catholic. One thing her mother had done was to make sure they had been baptised, made their communions and been confirmed. She knew a lot of that had been because of her grandparents, but she still went to Mass and she still believed in God. But since she had met Terry Baker, she had finally understood the sacraments, and that sacraments were important.

And love. She finally understood how it could be so important. All her life she had seen her parents' marriage and her mother would tell them all, when she was pissed out of her brains, how she loved her husband and that they were married in the eyes of God. But she had always believed that God would not be interested in them, that they were beneath his notice. Now though she wasn't so sure. She knew that, if she married Terry Baker in a Catholic church, she would be like her mother. Nothing would ever make her leave him.

Just as she was starting to wonder if she had been stood up, Terry breezed into the pub all testosterone and expensive aftershave. One glimpse of his killer smile, and she was finished.

Jackie was trying to get up some enthusiasm for her daughter's wedding, but it was hard. Rox kept going over the same things, and she felt like screaming at her to get to the fucking point. But she didn't. Instead, she watched as Maggie discussed everything in minute detail and marvelled at how her little sister could even be interested.

Rox really had no idea about life. Anyone in their right mind, seeing Jackie's marriage to Freddie, would run a fucking mile. Not her girls though. They thought it was all going to be wine and roses like Maggie's and Jimmy's.

What really pissed her off, though, was that thanks to Maggie she would have to get gussied up and go to the fucking wedding whether she liked it or not. She did want to see her daughter wed, but it was her Little Freddie she was worried about. Rox had banned him, said that no kids were allowed, even her brother. She meant, of course, especially her brother.

They were a crowd of treacherous bitches. She had given birth to a crowd of bastards, even Kimberley. The little mare never even popped her head around the door to see how any of them were. If it wasn't for Rox and Maggie, she wouldn't know anything about her at all. When she had rung, all she had talked about was her rehab, and her new life.

What was that all about?

Now Rox was nearly off her hands, and Dianna was going to fly the nest, she was sure of that. So for the first time in years, her life would be her own.

She was relishing the prospect of being alone with her son. Little Freddie was like his dad and if she couldn't have him full time, then she was determined to have the next best thing. No matter what they said about him, she was his mother and she knew him better than anyone. Once the girls left home, she would devote all her time to him, that was what he needed, someone to dedicate their life to him.

Freddie Senior was trying to help him, and so would she. Together they could make him into a regular, happy boy.

Freddie was drunk, really drunk, and he was still reeling from the events from earlier in the day. Jimmy was with him but he knew that was only because he felt he needed to be there, not because he wanted to be there. This was their public show of strength, their way of clearing the air, not only with each other but with the people they dealt with on a daily basis. This was an exercise in damage limitation, and it was also a way for Jimmy to tell him he was forgiven, and that he was still a part of it all.

Like he gave a fuck now. He held all the fucking cards, and he could destroy Jimmy in an instant.

Freddie was very drunk, but he was also aware that he must not, at any time, say anything that might bring the wrath of this young man down on his head. After all these years he was finally having to admit to himself that Jimmy had it all sewn up. But for all Jimmy's being the big man, he knew something Jimmy didn't.

The thought made him smile now. If Jimmy knew, there would be fucking ructions, and those ructions would reverberate down the years. Freddie felt much better reminding himself of just how much trouble he was capable of causing if the fancy took him.

It was very tempting, so tempting. But he wouldn't. Not tonight. This was something to be kept on ice until a future date. He needed to have this secret inside him, because just knowing he had something that could blast Jimmy's world apart was making it all so much easier to cope with.

Worst of all, although Jimmy was playing fair, for once in his life, he had let Jimmy down for all the right reasons. He had stood him up, because of his son, not because he didn't want to or couldn't be bothered.

But he knew it was not the time to tell Jimmy about his boy. He was sorry that he had not let him be taken, but he knew Jackie would die if her son was charged with something like that and, truth be told, so would he.

He had been worried, though, because at one point he had not believed that he could smooth this one over. He had not intended to smooth it over, but blood will out, as Jimmy had proved to him today.

'Come on, Freddie, let's have another drink, eh?' Jimmy was so happy, so boring, and so fucking smug, he wanted to smash the nearest pint pot into his handsome fucking face. Instead he smiled back and said happily, 'I'll get this one, Jim. It's my round, mate.'

'Go home will you, please.'

Little Freddie smiled at his nana with all the charm of his father, but Maddie wasn't fooled.

'I just want to talk to you, Nana. I want you to tell me about me granddad that's all.'

Maddie looked at the boy she had adored as a baby, but who she had quickly realised was not quite right. He was like her Freddie, like his father, and whereas once that would have been the icing on her cake, now she saw it as a fault. Saw this child as an accident waiting to happen. His father had been the light of her life, but not any more. She knew too much about him and one day she would tell him.

Until then, she would try to make life bearable for herself and most of the people around her, but this boy, this big handsome child, frightened her. He was just like her Freddie at the same age and she had cosseted him just as Jackie had cosseted this one. She had seen in her Freddie something that had never been there. She had invented her son, had built him up in her head, made him into the person she had wanted him to be. Now she had to pay for that.

'Please, Nana, let me stay a while.'

She saw the way he looked at her. He would fool a lot of people one day, and now he was playing her, using his good looks to get what he wanted.

'Go home, I said.'

'Please, Nana. I just want to sit with you that's all.'

'I want you to go.'

Her words were said with a finality that alerted Freddie to the fact he would get nothing from her. He was in a bind, he was being watched like a hawk and this old cow could have been a bit of light relief, and he was interested in his granddad. He wanted to hear about his suicide, wanted to hear about his life and his reputation for fighting. He had heard it all second-hand from other people, but she was the horse's mouth. She could tell him everything he wanted to know.

'Will you go, child, and leave me in peace.'

He punched her in the chest then, as his temper got the better of him. 'You fucking old bitch, you're an old woman, who would fucking want to sit with you anyway?'

She sighed, and said, without raising her voice, 'Go, and leave me alone, or I will ring my son.'

He finally left her then. The threat of his father had done the trick, and she bolted her door behind him.

Lena and Joe laughed at the antics of little Jimmy. Maggie had dropped him off earlier because she had a late night at her Leigh-on-Sea salon.

Lena loved this child, they all did, because he was such a dear little thing.

'Oh, Joe, I was so worried about my girl. Now when I watch her with him I feel like I have won the lottery.'

'I know, love. Like I always say, things work out in their own time.'

Lena nodded. 'Want a cuppa?'

Joe smiled. 'Why not, and make me little bloke a hot chocolate, he loves that.'

As she watched her husband sit the child on his lap, Lena breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.

She put the kettle on and quickly prepared the mugs, and made Jimmy Junior's drink. He loved his hot chocolate and she should know, he had spent half his life here. With Maggie having been so offish and leaving him with them at the drop of a hat she knew her grandson better than anyone.

There had been times when she had thought her Maggie's behaviour was unnatural. For years she had not treated that boy properly. Oh, she had done everything that was expected, but it was as if he wasn't really hers, that he was someone else's and she had to take care of him. It was as if she was his mother once removed. That was the only way Lena could explain it.

Now, though, her Maggie was back to her old self and she thanked God for that every day of her life. She had finally turned into a proper mother and that child was all the better for it.

There was a knock at the door and she opened it to see Little Freddie.

'Hello, mate, what you doing here?'

He gave Lena that charming, handsome smile he could command at the drop of a hat. 'I just wanted to see you, Nana. Can I come in?'

She opened the door wide then, and he slipped past her happily.

Lena grabbed his jacket and pulled him round to face her.

'Any of your antics and I'll fucking brain you, right?' He looked into her eyes and said seriously, 'Fair enough.' These were two people who understood each other perfectly.

'So, do you think Freddie took it well?'

Jimmy shrugged. 'I really don't know, Glen, but what I do know is, I let him off with a fucking caution. However, he is on fucking trial and even he has to comprehend that much.'

Glenford nodded. 'He is a dangerous fuck, Jimmy.'

'I know that, mate, you are preaching to the converted, but I ain't scared of him. I was, many years ago when I was a kid. But not any more, and he knows that. What I couldn't get through to him, though, was why what he had done was so outrageous, he still doesn't think he's done anything wrong.'

Glenford looked concerned. 'You will regret this. You have taken a viper to your chest, boy, and the fucker will bite you at the first available opportunity. Freddie ain't like other people, Jimmy, he sees the world through his eyes only. You will become the target for his next bout of hatred and violence. But I think you have already worked that one out for yourself, eh?'

Jimmy sighed. 'What could I do, though? If I had aimed him out of it, he would never have let it go. I just couldn't do it to him. I don't want to do that to him. But I had to make him aware of what was going down.'

Glenford grabbed Jimmy's hand and said seriously, 'He is your nemesis, Jimmy. Everybody have one, you're a lucky man because you have your one's address.'

They laughed together, but neither of them thought that it was funny really.

Jackie had her dream. Her husband was coming home every night, and instead of loving it she was hating it. In he came like the big 'I am', expecting all sorts. And if Little Freddie wasn't there he went looking for him.

This was worse than being under house arrest. He mentioned every drink she poured and watched what he wanted to watch on TV. She had always had her viewing down pat, but now she had to make him sandwiches, run up the chippy or the Chinese, and get him beers from the fridge.

Little Freddie had to be on his best behaviour, and she had to sit there and make excuses to nip over the off-licence to get herself a drink. The way Freddie carried on anyone would think they were hard up or something. He was well wedged up, and she even wished he would fuck off round one of his birds' houses. Anything was better than this.

He watched her and all, she could feel his eyes on her.

She had taken to bathing every day just to stop his fucking harping on about the state of her and the house. Anyone listening in would think he had been brought up in Buckingham Palace, but she knew who the real culprit was: Maggie. Maggie was too clean, she was fucking demented with it. The housework would still be there when she was gone, so why devote your life to it?

'Where have you been today, then?'

Little Freddie looked at his father and said quietly, 'I was round Nanny Lena's and Granddad Joe's.'

Freddie drank half his can of Tennents before saying quietly, 'I never said you could go out.'

Jackie was on the edge of her seat. 'I said he could go. What are you saying now, then? He can't leave the fucking house?'

Freddie looked at his wife. She was a mess, a bigger mess than he had first suspected. 'Shut the fuck up, Jackie, I am talking to the organ grinder, not the monkey.'

Little Freddie started to laugh, and he had to hold his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

Jackie was drunk and she was fed up with her husband and his constant presence. 'You make me laugh, Freddie Jackson. You come in here and you throw your weight around, and expect everyone to jump to your fucking tune.'

Freddie sighed. This was the woman he knew and loved.

'What's happened, eh? What brings you home here really? Why are you suddenly father of the year? You in trouble of some kind?'

Jackie had inadvertently hit the nail right on the head. She had sensed that the only thing that would get him home early was trouble.

'You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you, Jack? This fucking child of ours is in deep shit. You think he is a fucking choir boy, you think he is being led on by other, more sophisticated boys. Well he ain't, anything he has done he has done on his lonesome. This cunt has all his faculties, don't you worry about that. As for me being in trouble, I might point out that you have spent your whole married life trying to keep me in this house and now I am trying to make something of my son, trying to help him, you want shot. It's a fucking joke, except I ain't laughing. Now you had better calm yourself down, woman, button your fucking mutton and show me a bit of respect, because in a minute I am going to fucking muller you.'

Little Freddie watched them both and decided his mother was right, his father was in it right up to his neck.

Why else would he want to be in this shit hole?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ozzy watched as Jimmy walked into the visitors' room. As he turned out his pockets once more and waited to be searched again, Ozzy observed him with pride.

He was a handsome man, and he also had a real presence. Jimmy had the air about him that most men dreamed of and the walk of a man completely at ease with himself and his surroundings, no mean feat on a unit that was peopled with serious criminals.

Ozzy knew that he had given this man his confidence, and he was proud of that. Jimmy was the son he had never had, and he did think of him as a son. He was a good man, he was a decent man, but most of all he was one hundred per cent trustworthy.

As Ozzy watched Jimmy, he observed the other people around him, noticing that they unconsciously acknowledged him as one of their own, even though he had never served a second's time anywhere. His years of coming here had given him that prison swagger, he was as relaxed here as he was in his own home.

Ozzy's big prayer was that this boy never ever had to experience prison other than as a visitor. It was not an existence that Jimmy would ever accept. Freddie, on the other hand, would relish another stint, he was that fucking stupid, and it was only Jimmy's nous that had kept Freddie on the outside for so long.

Freddie Jackson was an ungrateful cunt and he knew Jimmy was having trouble with him, but Ozzy was sure Jimmy could handle it. It had grieved Ozzy though that once on the outside Freddie had reverted to type. He had been well treated in stir and, in fairness, Freddie had his creds. He could handle himself, and he was not frightened of anyone or anything.

So why he let it all go to the wayside Ozzy didn't understand. But he did know that Freddie was cunting Jimmy up hill and down dale, to all and sundry, and he was not going to let that happen for much longer. If he cunted Jimmy, he was cunting him, Ozzy, because Jimmy was his front to the world. He was also aware of Freddie's light-fingered forays, and he was not impressed. He was nicking off his own, and that was a definite fucking no no.

As Jimmy walked over to him, Ozzy was smiling, that easy, friendly smile that denoted a man without anything bad on his mind.

Ozzy stood up and they hugged for long moments. Ozzy had never hugged anyone in his life until Jimmy and he felt like he knew this boy better than he knew himself.

'All right, Oz?'

Ozzy smiled again as they sat down together. 'Fine, Jim, yourself?'

This was always how they started the visit, it was mundane and it was boring but it was heartfelt.

'Fucking kicking, Oz, everything is lovely jubbly!'

They both laughed.

As always, another inmate brought them over their teas and their Kit Kats. Once that was out of the way, the serious business of the day began.

'What the fuck has happened to your Little Freddie, Jackie?'

Lena's voice was harsh but jovial as she made one of her endless cups of tea. She watched her daughter drinking what was supposed to be a can of Coca-Cola but what was actually a vodka and Coke. She was drinking all day now and it was taking its toll on her.

Jackie was thrilled at her mother's words and she gulped at her can before saying loudly, and not a little drunkenly, 'He is my baby, Mum. I fucking love him.'

She was slurring her words and Lena closed her eyes in distress. When pissed, Jackie started off loving everyone, but by lunchtime they would all be arseholes and wankers, her son included.

'Since my Freddie has taken him in hand he is a changed boy!'

Lena smiled as best she could and said as happily as she could manage, given the circumstances, 'You're telling me! He has been round a lot lately and if Jimmy Junior's here he plays with him, helps him do things. Fuck me, Jack, I thought he'd had a personality transplant.'

Jackie was almost bursting with drunken pride. 'Now the girls are gone, more or less, he is getting a lot of one-to-one attention. He is also coming to terms with any feelings he has, feelings that he needs to express more-'

'Oh, that's lovely.' Lena was regretting asking her daughter anything now, she sounded like a fucking social worker when she spouted that crap. She knew from experience that this kind of talk could go on for hours and she wasn't in the mood today. 'How are you, anyway?'

Jackie knew she had been cut off mid-sentence and she swallowed down her annoyance. If Maggie had been sitting here talking intelligently they would all be hanging on her every word. Freddie was right in what he said, they mugged her off.

'How's the wedding plans going?' Lena asked, trying to start a different conversation.

'All right. It's not till next year, so why they have to fucking keep on about it I don't know.'

Lena swallowed down the retort that had sprung to her lips, and changed the subject once again. 'How's Big Freddie?'

'He's fine. Why are you asking about him?' Jackie's voice was now full of suspicion and the underlying anger that was always close to the surface.

'Oh, for fuck's sake, Jack, I am making what is commonly known as conversation. But with you that's a fucking impossibility. Relax and have a natter, will you, girl?'

Jackie was mortally offended and it showed, which made Lena so angry she bellowed, 'You are such hard work, Jackie, do you know that? You are always on your fucking dignity, always looking for an insult or a slight. I am fucked if I know why you even bother to come round here.'

Jackie felt like crying. It was always the same, she did her best to chat and she tried her hardest to be nice, and her mum always ended up having a go at her. Maggie was the golden girl, she was the fucking queen of this house, and her little boy was the little darling, the prince, which meant her and her kids were relegated to second position. It hurt, it really hurt her at times.

Lena saw the tears in her daughter's eyes and felt awful for shouting at her as per usual, but talking to Jackie was like trying to make conversation with a Pakistani Dutchman. Nigh on fucking impossible. If her daughter wasn't always half pissed she might get a decent chat out of her, and she might also relax long enough to let the self-pity go for a few minutes, Jackie's drinking and her fucking stupid way of carrying on worried Lena. She could see the toll the drink was taking on her eldest daughter, and she didn't know what to do to make it all right, to make it better.

Patricia was seriously worried, and Freddie was not making her feel any easier. In fact, he was starting to annoy her. If he didn't stop going on about Jimmy and how he was mugging him off, she was going to scream.

'Have you listened to one word I've said, Freddie?'

He nodded. ''Course I have.'

'Well, then, what do you think I should do?'

Freddie was fucked now because he had not been listening to her for ages. Instead, he had been watching one of the new girls through the doorway and she was just his cup of Rosie Lee.

'What do you think you should do?' He was pleased that he had years of experience with Jackie to fall back on, because he had not listened to her since before their honeymoon.

Patricia said, softly, and with an underlying malice, 'My brother has requested that I bring all the books up to date and then give them to Jimmy, and you ask me what I think I should do?'

Freddie was quiet.

'Funny how you can fucking go on about Jimmy for hours and when I mention him you don't even take it on board. Yet I am expected to take the books that denote my livelihood and pass them to him without a fucking murmur.'

She closed the door because she had also caught sight of the new girl. If she wanted some serious answers from Freddie, that meant no distractions whatsoever. She knew him too well, and if he wasn't such a good fuck she would have crowned him.

'Has Jimmy said anything to you? Why would my brother suddenly ask me to do that, give the books over to what is in effect a fucking stranger, when I have run his houses single-handedly for years?'

Freddie felt as if his head was going to explode. 'Did he say anything to you about it the last time you saw him, Pat?'

She shook her head, glad that she finally had his full attention. 'Not a fucking dicky bird. It was the usual. I told him what we were making and he seemed happy enough, and then we chatted as we always do.'

She didn't let on that she grassed up everyone and anyone she could, Freddie included. It was through her that Ozzy knew Freddie had lightened more than a few money bags. Jimmy was so close with things like that he was like a fucking statue, and she knew how to earn her Brownie points.

Freddie looked her in the eyes and said carefully, 'Are you creaming anything off, Pat?'

'How dare you? You can fucking talk! You're the one who keeps taking dips out of everyone's fucking bunce, not me.'

Freddie waved his arms to shut her up. She was so livid at his words, that alone told him he was on the right track. 'I don't give a fuck what you do, you silly mare. I am trying to help you out here. If you are scamming him, sister or no sister, he won't put up with it. He hates anyone trying to take what he sees as his. That is why him and Jimmy get on so well; Jimmy would haunt you over a fucking pound.'

Freddie looked at Pat to make sure she was listening. 'When I was banged up with Oz, I remember we had a lag in there who managed to get his hands on some LSD. Now the northerners love a bit of brown or a bit of acid to make their sentence go faster. They do their lumps out of their nut as is their prerogative, any way you can find to do your bird in peace is your business.

'This fella had a lot more than he let on – he wanted a few quid for some luxuries. To Ozzy, right, this was pennies, fucking nothing. But he sussed him out, made a point of counting down each tab that was sold. On the quiet, of course. Well, when Ozzy realised the fella had held some back he went fucking ballistic. He even frightened me, and I was supposed to be his minder. But he got that money. It was only about forty quid, if that.'

Freddie shook his head as if bewildered. 'And I remember saying to him, "All that for forty quid," and he turned on me, Pat, and he said, all serious-like, "Forty quid is forty quid, Freddie, and it's forty quid I never had." It was fucking mad. All the other lags understood him, agreed with him, but I just felt that forty quid was not worth the hag. He nearly killed that fella, we all ended up on a lockdown, and I know it annoyed him that I couldn't see the principle that he assured me over and over again had been at stake.'

Freddie held out his arms in wonderment. 'It was forty quid, for fuck's sake, but to him it was like forty grand. So now you know why I am asking you if you have not been completely honest with him about the takings here. I know he loves you, Pat, but I also know he won't be mugged off, not by you, not by anyone. I know Jimmy would never have told him that I had a touch, but I also know that Ozzy will never forgive me because of it.'

Pat listened to Freddie with increasing fear. She knew Ozzy better than anyone, but she had still been buncing the last few years. Why not? He was never coming out, he didn't want to, so what the fuck did he want all this money for anyway?

He was gathering it up in shedloads and he was never going to be able to fucking spend any of it. She had started paying herself over the odds because she had felt that she deserved it, and after a couple of bonuses she had made it a regular thing.

She was terrified now. She knew Ozzy wouldn't hurt her physically, but she also knew he was capable of cutting her off without a backward glance, and, money or no money, she loved Oz, always had and always would.

She sat down at her desk and for the first time ever Freddie saw her looking vulnerable. It reminded him that Ozzy might be banged up but he was running the show. Had always run the show. He had dipped himself, on more than one occasion, and Jimmy must have smoothed it all over with Ozzy. It suddenly occurred to him just how fucking lucky he had been. Like Pat he had thought no further than that Ozzy was away for the long haul, and he had not allowed for the mind-set of a man who was marking his prison time by still making money.

'Can I leave Jimmy Junior with you tonight, Mum?'

Lena smiled. ''Course you can. You off out, love?'

Maggie grinned. 'Jimmy wants to take me out to dinner, he just rang. He is on his way home from the Isle of Wight, and he is in a really good mood.'

'You leave my little babes here, and you go and have a good time. Let him sleep over, he ain't done that for ages.'

'Okey doke. I'll drop him off later then.'

'You want a sandwich or something?'

'No thanks. Has Jackie been round?'

Lena sighed. 'Don't start me off about her, for fuck's sake. She was pissed out of her brains this morning and I tell you now, Mags, I love her, she's me daughter, but she is such hard work.'

She sat down at the small kitchen table and said conspiratorially, her voice a whisper even though there was no one else within earshot, 'She walks around with a can now, a Coke can that is full of vodka and she honestly thinks that no one knows, that no one's sussed it out, and that we think she is drinking fucking Coke. I am really worried about her, Mags, but what can I do?'

Maggie was always sad when she thought of her sister and her way of life. 'We've all tried, Mum, but until she decides to get help, it's a waste of time, ain't it.'

'At least Freddie is at home more these days. He is doing a marvellous job with that little fucker of his. He has been round here, and you wouldn't know him, girl. I still think he has a screw loose though. You could never trust that child. I don't think so, anyway.'

Maggie looked at her mother and she saw how much she had aged over the last few years. She was sorry to see her getting so old, even though she knew it had to happen. But her mother had always seemed so strong, had always made her feel safe and loved and cared for. Now Lena was starting to look old it was frightening, because one day that was going to be her.

She was into her thirties now, and even though she looked good, you couldn't fight age, not really. If you had ten facelifts and your whole body remodelled, you might look younger but you would still be fifty or sixty or whatever. Looking younger did not make you younger. Time passed, and the older you got the quicker it seemed to go.

'Do you think it might be worth talking to Freddie about Jackie?'

Maggie shrugged. 'I never talk to him unless I have to. He is the reason she bloody drinks anyway.'

'True, but I worry that one day I will get a phone call, or a message telling me she's dead. She is going yellow, Mags, and it's her liver, I know it is.' Maggie could see the worry and fear etched on her mother's face, and she felt the sting of tears. 'I love you, Mum.'

Lena flapped her hand at her daughter and laughed. But Maggie knew she was pleased she had said it. They were not really that kind of family, they didn't hug or touch too much. But she wanted her mother to know that she did love her.

All day, every day, she loved her.

Freddie had decided to actually do the work he was supposed to be getting on with. He needed time to think, and seeing Pat like that had thrown him because he had a feeling that Jimmy would be in the know about everything. He also had a feeling that Jimmy was about to inherit the houses along with everything else.

He was so fucking angry. Jimmy was walking off with everything and, without him, he would not have even known Ozzy existed. That meant Jimmy owed him a slice of the very lucrative pie he was going to inherit from Ozzy.

Freddie felt hard done by. Here he was running all over the Smoke picking up money and sorting out problems in clubs, pubs and eateries, and where was Jimmy? Sitting on his ring, doing fuck all.

He stormed into a drinking club in Brixton that owed them a weekly take, and saw Glenford Prentiss standing at the bar. Glenford waved him over and Freddie forced a smile on to his face as he said happily, 'All right, all's well then, I take it?'

Glenford grinned. 'Always good me, and you?'

Freddie shrugged nonchalantly. 'All the better for seeing you. Want a drink?'

They were served immediately, and Glenford watched as Freddie downed the large whisky he had ordered in one large gulp. He was given another one straightaway.

'You needed that, eh?' Glenford was sipping his own drink, a pint of Draught Guinness, and savouring it.

'Wouldn't you if you were me?' Freddie looked annoyed.

Glenford didn't answer him, he was not getting involved in any kind of conversation that revolved around slagging off Jimmy, work, or anything else, other than the mundane and the fucking boring.

'Seen anything of Jimmy?'

Glenford nodded. ''Course, he is my friend.' He could see that the answer was not what Freddie had wanted to hear.

Freddie didn't respond to him. He sipped at his Scotch and his scowl was once more back in evidence.

Freddie and Jimmy were so alike, and yet so different. Freddie, he noticed, looked good for his age, but he had that petulant look about him that was peculiar to white men. It was odd, but there were a lot of disappointed-looking white men walking around. It was mad, but it was a fact.

Freddie had that look. He was a big man, with a big, powerful physique, and that was what made him look so disaffected. He was still handsome, still had the look that women loved. Glenford had seen the man in action and he had to take his hat off to him. But Freddie's disposition meant that no matter what he got, he would never be happy.

It was a shame, because he had been given more opportunities than most men could even hope for.

Freddie was now eyeing up a girl at the end of the bar. She was mixed race, in her early twenties and Glenford had considered giving her the old Prentiss charm. But he watched in admiration as Freddie turned from morose and scowling to cheerful and carefree. Skirt could do that to a man, and Freddie was only happy when he was conquering someone or something.

Seeing him now, with his smiling face and his jokey voice, he knew no one would believe that this was the same man who had walked in not ten minutes ago looking fit to be tied and up for a fight. It was like a miracle, and the girl was thrilled with herself.

Glenford toyed with the idea of telling the girl what to expect, how Freddie would romance her, bed her and then own her until he got fed up. But she was already walking towards them with a huge grin and a sultry swagger, and he decided to let her find all that out for herself.

So he drank his beer and listened with half an ear until Freddie finally went in for the kill.

'Oh Jimmy, it's beautiful.'

Maggie stared in awe at the watch her husband had presented her with. It was a gold Rolex, and she loved it. She had wanted one for a while, and now she had it and she was absolutely delighted with it.

She snapped open her Cartier and dropped it on to the dressing table, and she allowed Jimmy to place her new timepiece on to her wrist.

'Oh my God, what is this for?'

He shrugged, then kissed her tenderly, and once more he marvelled because she wasn't trying to move away from him. 'It's because I love you, Mags, and I always will.'

He was so earnest she wanted to cry.

Jimmy Junior ran into the room and he was laughing loudly. 'I saw you kissing!' He was all embarrassed and they both laughed with him.

Jimmy picked him up effortlessly and placed him on his shoulders. 'Come on, my little man, let's get you to Nana's, eh?'

They all walked down the stairs together and their laughing and chattering echoed around the house. Jimmy was so happy to hear it and that his family was mended and healed that he felt the urge to cry. Instead, he grabbed his wife's hand and, still holding on to his little son, he started them all off singing.

'One man went to mow…'

It was his son's favourite song, and as they walked from the house the sound was ringing in his ears. Especially Jimmy Junior's laughter. He had a dear little giggle that was so cute, and it proved he had a real good sense of humour too.

He was blessed. His life was perfect, and his family were perfect. What more could any man want?

'Will you be all right with these two, Joe, if I pop over Sylvie's?'

He nodded, his eyes glued to the TV, just like his elder grandson's. Little Freddie had joined them after tea, and played nicely with his cousin until bedtime.

'You go, Lena, and leave them with me, girl.'

She slipped on a cardigan and crept from the flat. Sylvie was always up for a laugh and she was fed up with Joe and his bloody telly programmes. Jimmy Junior was dead to the world, and now Little Freddie was sitting with his granddad like a little angel – not a phrase she had ever thought she would use about him – and she was going to have a nice cuppa and a good old gossip.

At the next ad break, Little Freddie stood up. 'Can I use the loo, Granddad?'

''Course you can, you silly little sod.' Joe smiled at the change in the boy. Imagine asking to use the loo.

He was still glued to the TV an hour later when Jackie came by to pick her son up. She was drunk, and she was also belligerent.

Lena arrived just after her daughter. She could hear her strident voice through the front door, and she hoped she didn't wake that little child with her noisy carrying on.

Jackie was stoned out of her mind, and on one level she knew that she should not be in her mother's shouting the odds, but she could not stop herself. Freddie had told her in no uncertain terms that Jimmy and Maggie had walked away with his job, that her sister and her family had all conspired against him, and that she was nothing but a drunken whore and she could expect him when she finally saw him.

She knew he was annoyed with her for being so drunk and he was taking his anger out on her, but she was determined to make someone listen to what she had to say.

'Will you keep your fucking voice down, Jackie. That little boy is asleep.'

Jackie looked at her mother through unfocused eyes and she said in a stage whisper, 'Oh, fucking hell, mustn't wake Maggie's baby, eh? You never fucking had mine round here, did you?'

Lena sighed. 'I had your girls all the time, Jackie, remember? They practically lived here at one point. Now either calm down or fuck off home. I ain't in the mood for you tonight.'

Jackie looked awful. Her hair was matted where she had slept on it all afternoon, and her make-up was streaked over her face. She was dressed like a refugee, and she was up for a fight.

Well, Lena and Joe were determined to see that she did not get one.

Joe motioned with his head and Lena nodded. He was getting his coat to walk Jackie home. This was a running joke now. Tomorrow she would have no memory of this whatsoever, but for now Lena had to try to calm her down.

Little Freddie was standing there watching her, and for the first time ever Lena felt a twinge of pity for him. No wonder he was like he was, with this sorry excuse for a mother and that ponce Freddie as a father.

'You are wankers, you and my dad. Nothing but fucking wankers.' Jackie was pointing at her mother now, poking a grubby finger into her face.

'Stop this, Jackie, stop it. Why do you do this?' She was trying to walk her towards the front door, but Jackie was so unsteady on her feet Lena was convinced her daughter was going to fall over and hurt herself.

Little Freddie was attempting to help his mother stand upright when she pushed him away from her and shouted, 'You are trying to send me away again, ain't you? You don't want me or mine here, you don't care about us. It's all about Maggie, ain't it? I can count on one hand the amount of times you've been round my house, but I come here every day, every day I come to see you. Well, not any more, you can all fuck off now. My Freddie was right all along, none of you care about me. None of you.'

She was on a roll now, gesturing madly with her arms, and Lena watched her eldest child in abject sorrow. No wonder the girls were never home, no wonder they avoided her like the plague. At this moment she could even find it in her heart to sympathise with Freddie, because Jackie couldn't be the easiest of people to live with.

Jackie screwed her face up in hate, and spewed out her vitriol and her anger while all the time being led out of the flat. Joseph had the front door open and he was dressed for the outdoors. When Jackie saw him standing there, she laughed out loud.

'Oh, here we go, the big guns are out, are they? Walking me home, are you, Dad? Making sure I don't stay here with you pair of fucking tossers.'

Little Freddie helped his mother out of the door. He was holding her up now, and Lena watched them go down the stairs until finally she could shut her front door. She knew that her neighbours had heard Jackie's ranting and raving, and she felt angry and upset.

She sat at her little kitchen table and put her head into her hands in utter despair. This was happening more and more, and she knew that something would have to be done before that girl drank herself into an early grave.

No wonder that boy was a mad bastard. What had he ever had in his life that was constant, that was good? She had a memory, suddenly, of Little Freddie as a baby, only about eighteen months old. Jackie was half cut as usual and she was saying to the boy, 'Here, Freds, phone Daddy.'

And the child had picked up the phone and said over and over again, 'Tunt, tunt.'

He could not say 'cunt' yet, but Jackie had rolled up.

Joseph had said to her then, all those years ago, 'God help that child, Lena. Between the two of them he has no fucking chance.'

And he had been right.

Chapter Twenty-Three

'I have never felt more happy in my life, Jimmy.'

His wife was relaxed, so liquid in his arms, that he felt as if he had been given a second chance at happiness. In the last couple of years she had gradually become again the girl he had known, the woman he had always needed.

Last night had been one of the most fulfilling nights of his life. His Mags had given herself to him with such forcefulness he had been amazed. All the hurt, all the distance was gone, and this was a new beginning for them, a new start to a marriage that even at its worst was better than anything else he could imagine.

He kissed her gently on the lips and she snuggled closer to him.

It was so long since Maggie had felt this calm, this happy, and she wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

Jimmy held his tiny wife in his arms and marvelled at the change in her. Whatever had ailed her after Jimmy Junior was born, it seemed it was finally gone, and the laughing, happy girl he had married was back for good. Just to hold her like this was wonderful, to feel her soft skin next to his, to smell her perfume.

Unlike Freddie, and even Glenford, birds had never been a top priority with him and he had never really wanted anyone other than Maggie. He had taken a few fliers over the years but they were few and far between and he had regretted them immediately. No other woman had ever made him feel like his Mags did. And Little Jimmy was like the icing on the cake. He was their world, and they would see that he had everything that they had never had.

'So is Ozzy giving all his businesses over you, then?'

Jimmy kissed her again. 'It seems like it, but he ain't giving them to me as such, though Freddie won't believe that. I am just going to run them all for him. Like I do with all the other businesses.'

'He must really trust you, Jim.'

He smiled then. 'I hope so, babe, he ain't never had any reason not to.'

He was so dependable, her Jim, no one would ever say a bad thing about him because he was as right as the mail, as her mum always pointed out.

'What's he like?'

'Who, Ozzy?'

'Well, who else, you twonk!'

He shrugged, and hugged her even tighter, laughing at her as she knew he would.

'I told you, he's… different. He's sort of very much his own person, and when you are in his company you know he is someone of repute, someone important.'

Maggie could hear the pride in her husband's voice and she thought it was probably this self-effacing way he had that made Ozzy think so much of him.

'He sees you like I do, Jimmy, as a handsome, clever and kind man.'

Jimmy laughed. 'I think he sees a different side to me actually, but I will take your word for it.'

They laughed together. The hard-nosed Jimmy she rarely saw, and she was glad of that. But she knew it existed, and she had heard about his escapades, knew he was capable of violence if necessary. She knew he would use his considerable strength but only when all else failed. He was not a vindictive man, and she was lucky in that respect. But he was a serious Face in their community and she must bask in his reflected glory whether she wanted to or not. Jimmy had taken out enemies on more than one occasion, she accepted that. But he had to do it, that was what Ozzy expected from him and what he paid him for.

Brought up as she had been on the periphery of that world, she understood it was nothing more than a means to an end. It paid for their life, made sure they were taken care of. It was, after all, his chosen profession and his prerogative.

When he came home, though, he was just Jimmy, her Jimmy, and he was a husband and father. And she loved this man so deeply, nothing could change her feelings for him, no matter what he did.

He was also popular, not just with their close friends, but with everyone they mixed with, except, of course, Freddie. She forced Freddie from her mind, he had no place here, not any longer. He had spent too much time like a spectre between them. She would not allow him to hurt her or her family ever again.

It had taken her far too long to realise that her mother's old saying was true: 'People only do to you what you let them.' How many times had she heard that over the years?

As long as she let Freddie dictate her happiness, she was never going to experience any. Now she had fronted him, made him frightened of the truth coming out, and she felt almost euphoric in her happiness.

Jimmy Junior was, when all was said and done, her child. Hers, and her Jimmy's. They adored him, and no matter what anyone said, or anyone did, they could not take that away from them.

She glanced at the clock and saw it was eight thirty. They had slept in for the first time in years, and she had enjoyed it as well. She missed her baby, though. He had taken to coming in to them first thing and getting a few cuddles before they all got up and ate breakfast together.

It seemed strange without him, but she yawned happily. She had better get her arse in gear and go and pick him up. But Jimmy's hand on her breast told her that she might be longer than she had first thought.

'You what?'

Rox sighed, and said again, 'I am pregnant, Mum.'

Jackie was bleary-eyed as usual, and Rox wondered why she had come round to this house on her way to work when the woman she called her mother didn't even function until after three o'clock.

'The wedding is being brought forward, that is what I am trying to tell you.'

Jackie yawned and searched through the legion of empty fag packets on the kitchen worktops until she found a cigarette. Lighting one she said sarcastically, 'Oh, well. I'll sleep better for knowing that, Rox.'

Roxanna closed her eyes in annoyance. No congratulations, nothing.

Freddie padded down the stairs and Roxanna smiled at him. It was a forced smile as always and he said tiredly, 'So, Dicky boy has been rogering my baby, eh?'

Rox was hurt by her father's words. And her own mother had no interest in what was going on in her life, but then, when had she ever been interested in anything other than drinking and this big twit who was allegedly her father?

'So, and?'

Freddie took the cigarette from his wife and pulled on it deeply before saying, 'Always got a fucking answer, ain't you? Suppose I decide to take umbrage, eh? Give him a fucking kicking, what would you do then?'

Rox shook her head sadly and he was reminded of just how good looking his daughter was. She was so like Maggie, thank fuck, and not the fat whore who was now eating a slice of day-old pizza. In his own way he was proud of his Rox. Considering the way she had been dragged up she was a fucking diamond, really.

'Here, Fred, I just realised you'll be a fucking granddad!'

Jackie's laughter turned to a hacking cough and she spat into the sink. The scene made Rox, with her morning sickness, feel like heaving.

She flapped her hand at her mother. 'You are like a fucking animal, Mum.'

'Yeah, look around you, Rox, you were all dragged up in her den of shit!' Freddie was laughing now, but he shocked them as he hugged his daughter briefly, pleased she was going to have a child, pleased that she had turned out so well. Suddenly that was important to him.

He was proud of her. People talked about her in glowing terms, and he was impressed that she had made such a success of her young life. Considering how she had been brought up it was amazing she wasn't on to her second or even third baby by now, he knew a lot of her mates were. He should know, he had fucked half of them.

She could do a lot worse than young Dicky and all. The boy always gave him his due and was respectful and polite. But if he ever mugged her off he would put the little fucker in his place, no danger.

Freddie went into the lounge and, picking up his coat, he took out a wad of money and peeled off five hundred pounds. He walked back to the kitchen and said almost shyly, 'Open an account up for it, babe, so it'll have a start in life. That is what Mags and Jimmy did and that kid's worth a fucking fortune now.'

Jackie and Roxanna looked at the man who had been the thorn in their sides for so long that they had forgotten how to like him, and their mouths were open and their eyes were round.

Rox saw the confusion in his eyes, and she knew it was mirrored in her own. Of all the things she had expected this morning, this was not one of them.

'Fucking hell, thanks, Dad.'

She was on the verge of tears, and for the first time in years Freddie understood what a small act of kindness could accomplish.

Rox hugged him back then, and he smelled the cleanliness of her, smelled her happiness and he also felt the love of a child he had never really taken any notice of.

She was a good girl, his Roxanna. He suddenly knew that they were all good girls really. Even his Kimberley, and especially his Dianna.

Why did he never appreciate that fact before?

'He must still be dead to the world, him, it's nearly nine o'clock!'

Joe's voice was high and Lena grinned. Joe loved that little child and she knew the feeling was reciprocated, since Jimmy Junior would listen to his old crap for hours.

'Go and wake him up, then, you rotten old sod. You know how much he likes his kip.'

'Have you done him his boiled egg and soldiers?'

She turned from the draining board where she was cutting the bread and butter into thin strips.

''Course I have. He would do 'is crust if they weren't waiting for him!'

Joe laughed with her. They were happy these days and it was mostly because of that little child. Maggie's postnatal depression had meant they had been privileged to be a very big part of his little life, and they were grateful for that.

'Go and get him, Joe, and I'll make him his cup of tea. He loves his cuppa in the morning does our little man.'

Lena watched as her husband raced off to wake their grandson. She would have let him sleep, he loved his Sooty and Sweep, bless him.

Little Freddie sat with his father and ate his cereal. Freddie watched as his son shoved the Coco Pops into his mouth with no manners whatsoever. He was too busy watching Mighty Morphing Power Rangers on Sky. Jackie was pretending to drink black tea, which he knew was sherry, because the smell was overpowering, and the house reminded him of a fucking rubbish tip. There were overflowing ashtrays, the curtains were half drawn as they were most of the time, and the feel of decay was everywhere. He had spent fortunes on this drum and it was still like a fucking squat.

An advert came on the TV and there was a lovely family, with lovely kids. They were being urged to borrow money, but as they sat there, eating toast and jam and being nice to each other, he knew that other than the poncing to pay off debts they shouldn't have had anyway, that was probably how Maggie and Jimmy acted first thing in the morning.

Jimmy Junior probably had egg on toast, or fresh fruit, they drank tea from a teapot and Jimmy probably read a paper that had been delivered by a smiling paper boy.

As he looked around his own home, he was suddenly pleased his Rox had got out of it all. He had seen her drum, it was clean and tidy and decorated to death.

She would pore over catalogues for hours just to find the right cushion, or the right blind. And he knew that if Maggie had not been in her life she would not have known about anything like that. Would never have realised that people like them were just as entitled as everyone else to have a nice home, a nice life.

Jackie cared about nothing, except maybe the drink and then him, and then Little Freddie, in that order. But Maggie and her fussy ways also angered him, and his daughters' utter adoration of her irritated him. He felt that she and Jimmy were living his life and it was this which made him so bitter.

'Eat properly, shut your fucking mouth!'

Little Freddie stared for long seconds at his father and then did as he was asked.

Jackie was still sitting on the sofa in her grubby dressing gown. She was smoking a cigarette and drinking her sherry out of a chipped white cup.

It took all his willpower not to kick off there and then, and smash her face in.

Joe was staring down at his grandchild and the tears were running down his face. This could not be happening, this could not he true, he had to be in a nightmare. His heart was pounding in his breast, and he was sure it would stop at any second. Wanted it to stop completely, so he would die and this scene would he wiped from his memory.

He was panting. He had wondered, briefly, if it was the child breathing so heavily, wondered if it was the child making this awful wheezing noise but he knew that this child had not taken a breath for a long time.

His little face, when he had pulled the quilt back and seen it, had been the single most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

He was so small, so small and so stiff and he was all wrong. He was lying all wrong, and they had slept in the room next door all night, and this little child had been dead. They had not gone in to tuck him in because he was such a light sleeper and as Jackie had been round causing ructions, they had left him. Left him alone, and he was dead.

He had tiptoed in and seen the little lump in the bed and then closed the door on him, his little grandson, the light of his life, and the reason his Lena got up in the morning.

Why hadn't he gone to him then? Looked at him properly and made sure the child was all right?

He was clutching his chest, and he felt the pain in his fingers.

'Hurry up, your egg's getting cold! What are you two doing?'

It was Lena's voice that finally made him move. Lena's happy voice, Lena, the woman he had hurt so much over the years and who he knew he could never be without. It was her, and the thought of her seeing this, that made him move at last.

Joe left the room and shut the door behind him.

She was in the hallway when he walked outside and she saw the tears on his face. 'What's going on, where's me boy?' Her voice was harsh, high and she was looking concerned, frightened.

He was shaking his head.

'What's wrong, you stupid old fucker, where is me little man, me little fella?'

He could feel the fear coming off her in waves, hear it in her voice.

'Let me see him, get out of my way…'

He was holding her now, struggling with her, making her stay outside, stopping her seeing what he had seen. The sight would kill her, he knew it would.

She was staring into his eyes now, and he was holding her by the forearms, afraid to let her go in case she went into the room, the mausoleum that was now holding the body of their dead grandchild.

'You're frightening me, Joe, stop it. Let me see me boy, please, Joe… Please…'

She was crying now, she was almost hysterical, and still he could not answer her. She was begging him, begging him to tell her everything was OK, and he couldn't.

How did you tell someone you loved about something like this?

Where the fuck did you even start?

Freddie sat beside Jimmy and watched his cousin's grief. It was so awful to witness another man's complete desolation. And he was feeling the same way. He was feeling the loss as acutely as Jimmy but he couldn't tell him that.

They had been together in the car and he was taking stick about being a granddad and they were laughing together, like they used to before. Then the call had come, and he had watched in amazement as Jimmy had swerved the car across the road before dropping the mobile, parking, and then starting to cry.

'What on earth has happened?'

He had for a few moments hoped that Ozzy was dead, that Ozzy had been wiped out but he also knew that that happening would not cause this kind of grief. It had to be Maggie, and he thought that she might have crashed her car, that fucking flash Merc she swanned around in. Or, at the least, that she had experienced an accident of some sort.

Freddie had nearly passed out, when after what seemed an age, Jimmy had turned to him and said brokenly, 'It's Jimmy, my little Jimmy. He died, Freddie, he died last night.'

Then he had cried, loudly and painfully and he had punched the steering wheel, and then he had cried again and Freddie had sat beside him in shock and wondered what on earth could have killed a dear little boy like that.

And he was a dear little child, and he had used that child to destroy his mother and now he was dead. That dear little Jimmy, with the bright smile and the funny little ways, was dead.

The world had gone fucking mad.

Lena and Joe felt guilty, and as the hospital room filled up with the family they felt even worse. He had died in their care, he had died while they had slept in the room next door. How were they ever going to get over that, how would they ever sleep again? Know another happy day without that little boy beside them?

Maybe they could have helped him, maybe they could have avoided it happening if they had only checked on him.

Maggie was sitting there, and she had not said a word. Rox was holding her hand and trying to comfort her as best she could.

Dianna was crying with Kimberley, all the time shaking their heads in disbelief.

Jackie was smoking outside. The hospital was all no smoking, and as always, she put her own needs first. She was watching the world go by, and every now and then she took a nip from the bottle of vodka she had placed in her large shopping bag.

A nurse walked into the visitors room and said quietly, 'Can I get you some more tea?'

Lena nodded. Tea gave you something to do, it made you move, made you respond, and she knew that as they were sitting there, Jimmy was on his way and she didn't want to face him, or his parents.

Jimmy's parents. As usual they had forgotten about them. Jimmy was more their family than his own. Since Freddie Senior's death, no one really saw them any more, least of all Jimmy.

'Has anyone phoned Jimmy's family?'

No one answered.

She sighed. They would know soon enough, why break their hearts before you had to?

Freddie and Jimmy were walking into the hospital when Jackie called out to her husband. He squeezed Jimmy's arm and walked over to his wife.

She walked him away from the busy doorway of the A and E and lit a cigarette. He saw she was pissed, but for once this didn't bother him. He was still in shock about the child dying.

This was his child, his boy, not Jimmy's, his, and he was dead. The thought had been careering around his head for what seemed like years and was in reality only minutes.

Jackie was really crying, sobbing, and he couldn't be angry with her. 'Ain't it terrible, Fred? How lucky are we, eh? Our Little Freddie might be a fucker, but imagine if he died.'

She was crying loudly, and she was in pain and he knew how she felt, so he instinctively held her to him. Even Freddie knew she was crying this time with just cause. They clung together for the first time in years.

'My poor Maggie, she looks like a fucking corpse herself. What a thing to have to go through! What a thing to have to live with!'

'What happened, Jack, do they know yet?'

Jackie looked up at her husband and said, her voice cracking, 'Don't you know, Freddie?'

He shook his head. 'No, what happened?'

'He put a plastic bag over his head, and he suffocated.'

Glenford arrived at the hospital and went straight to Jimmy. He pulled him into his embrace and Jimmy broke down crying. It was strange watching the little man holding on to Jimmy. Jimmy was huge, and his shaking shoulders just made it look all the more outrageous.

Glenford was crying with him and as Maggie watched she envied them that closeness, because Jimmy deserved that comfort. Unlike her, Jimmy had nothing on his conscience where that little boy was concerned.

Nobody else in the room did. But she was eaten up with guilt, seeing him, seeing him so small and so vulnerable and knowing he was never going to open his eyes and smile and laugh, never going to hug her again. The guilt was too much for her to bear.

All the time she had tolerated him, because she had kept a secret that she had felt was like a lead weight inside her chest. And now it was all over, and instead of relief, which is what she had yearned for all those years, she felt a deep and agonising hatred for herself.

Her poor mother and father had aged in hours. She saw the way her mother kept picking at her sodden tissues, how her eyes kept darting around the room as she waited for someone to accuse her over what had happened, and she knew that the poor woman blamed herself.

The same woman who had loved Jimmy Junior when his own mother had been incapable of it, who had shouted and argued with her, called her unnatural, and who had tried to make his short little life as bearable as she could, knowing that his own mother found it impossible to care for him.

And Jackie, Jackie kept on and on about her Rox having a baby, and how when God closed one door another one opened. The stupid drunken bitch had four kids and she cared for none of them, not really. She was like all drunks, she only cared about herself and how she felt and what she wanted. Her life was about her and Freddie, and she had spent years trying to gain the love of a man who despised her.

Freddie had destroyed her and he had destroyed her sister and she knew he had enjoyed every second of it.

She wondered, then, if he was feeling the loss of the little boy he had used as a weapon against her. Wondered if he was feeling remorse about all the years he had caused her so much heartache. She hoped that bastard never knew another happy day, she hoped all his kids died and he had to sit in a hospital knowing their lifeless bodies were feet away and he could never again touch them or love them.

But where was Freddie now, anyway? He had not been in this place and why would she expect any different? She wanted to kill him, scratch his eyes out, make him pay for the way he had caused her to feel about a child of her own body.

A child who was now dead and gone to her. Now she would never be able to make up to him for the first years of his life, when even feeding him had been anathema to her. But she had loved him, she had just been frightened of him and what he could cause if the truth of his conception had ever come out.

Now she would shout it from the roof tops and take the consequences with a light heart if he was only still with her.

Jimmy knelt in front of her and she put her head on his shoulder and finally cried, really cried. And once it started she couldn't make it stop. She could hear herself screaming but it sounded like someone else, as if someone else had taken over her body because that shrieking couldn't be coming from her, surely?

And when the doctor finally slipped the needle into her arm, she was so thankful for the oblivion she knew would come that she hoped to God she never woke up again.

Why would her little son put a bag over his head? Why would he do something like that and what on earth would possess him to want to do something like that?

Those were her last conscious thoughts.

Jimmy and Glenford sat in the darkened room and watched as Maggie's chest rose and fell softly. She looked so peaceful that he envied her.

He had held his little boy in his arms for long minutes and kissed his little forehead, and Glenford had cried with him, and they had both sat there in absolute shock and horror at what had befallen him and his family.

Glenford had not tried to talk, he had sat beside Jimmy and he had just been there. It was all he could do now, be there for the man he had come to love and respect as a friend and as a brother over the last fifteen years. But he had wondered over and over again why Freddie wasn't here with them, why Freddie had left the hospital and not come back?

The one time in his life he would have laid money on Freddie Jackson doing the right thing, and he had been wrong.

Jimmy needed him now, more than he had ever needed anyone in his life. Even a selfish shite like Freddie had to at least understand that much. And Jimmy had not even asked for him, it was as if he knew that Freddie would not be there. It was weird, as if Freddie not showing up was expected, even.

This was a sad and deeply odd day and Glenford prayed to God that he never had to experience anything even remotely like it in his own lifetime.

Little Freddie was on his game console when the front door opened. He didn't hear it, he was too busy killing the characters on the TV screen.

He was enjoying having the house to himself. He had not bothered to go to school as was usual. He was suspended again anyway, so he had popped round to his mates, who were also suspended, and relished telling them his news, and then he had come back and gone straight on his new game.

He hated the smell of the carpet, but he was used to it, though every now and again the stink of cigarettes from the overflowing ashtray near him made him wrinkle up his nose. He had a bowl of treats, and a large glass of orange juice that he had laced liberally with his mother's stash of vodka. She was buying it by the case these days off a geezer who lived nearby, and who did the Frog run to Calais once a month for drink and fags.

He was happy, relaxed and he was pleased with himself.

On his way home from his friends' he had pinched a few goodies from the local Indian shop. The man there was new and Little Freddie was always nice and polite to him. He had no idea the lad was smiling away while robbing him blind.

People were such fucking marks. His dad had always said that and it was true. People never expected you to be bad, they expected you to be like them. Nice and friendly and talkative, they wanted you to care about them, care about their feelings and their fucking boring lives.

But who wanted to be like them?

Who wanted to be fucking no necks all their lives?

Fear was a useful tool, and he had seen that over and over again in his young life. His father ruled everyone around him through fear, and it was a dangerous weapon. Kids at school had learned about fear sooner rather than later, he had seen to that, and it had taken him a long way in his little life.

He took anything he wanted from them, and they gave it gladly.

He was his father's son, and he was proud of that, but only because he admired the way his father used everyone around him. How his name had guaranteed this boy a pass from almost everything he had ever done.

He looked up then and saw his father in the doorway. As they looked into each other's eyes, Freddie Junior knew that he was in deep shit.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jimmy had told Glenford to go home, but Glenford was going nowhere. He was staying outside the room where Jimmy was sitting with his wife, trying to make sense of the day's events.

He felt as if he was on guard, was looking out for Jimmy, but he didn't know why he should feel that, or even what he was supposed to be looking out for. He had this mission come over him, and it was to take care of Jimmy.

There was something he was not telling anyone, and Glenford could feel that inside himself. Glenford felt sure that whatever Jimmy was holding back was so explosive that, if he let it go, it would reverberate through the whole of their world. But if he needed to let it go, then he would be waiting here for his friend.

It was respect, it was friendship, and it was all he knew to do that would be useful at this terrible time. If Jimmy needed someone, he would be there, on hand. That was what he wanted to do.

He could feel his pain and he wished he could take it from him even if only for a while.

He had popped out to his car and made a few calls, alerting everyone to the tragedy that had befallen Jimmy and his family, and then after a quick toot on his pipe he had come straight back inside.

He loved Jimmy, but he had never realised just how much until this had happened. It was like some kind of revelation he had experienced. He knew now that he loved Jimmy Jackson more than his own kin, more than his own family. Jimmy had been more to him, after all was said and done, than anyone else in his world.

He loved the man, and why shouldn't he? Jimmy had always been there for him. In fact they had always been there for each other.

And Glenford could not leave him. He didn't know why, but he could not leave him alone this night. That would have been far too cold, almost unreasonable, and if Jimmy went off at any point, then he would be sitting nearby, waiting to stop him going overboard. He knew that at some point Jimmy was going to lose his mind, and when that happened, he would be there for him.

It was dark when Freddie finally walked into the hospital, and Glenford, who had never been his biggest fan, was shocked at the look of him. He was bedraggled, he was grey-faced and he was obviously in great pain, not so much physical as emotional.

He had been crying, that much was evident. In fact he looked devastated, and that was something Glenford had not been expecting.

So he found himself standing up and saying gently, 'You all right, man?'

Freddie sat down beside him, and putting his head in his hands he said, 'No, no, I'm not, Glenford. How is he?'

Glenford rubbed a hand over his face. 'How would you be if it was you? The man is completely and utterly disrupted. His life is finished. I never seen him look so bad before. He is on the edge.'

Freddie knew he was speaking the truth, knew he was telling him the score.

'Has he said anything?'

'About the boy? Nothing, really. I think he's in shock…' He sighed. 'I feel like he's keeping something back. It's weird but he's all off kilter. You know what I mean?'

'I know exactly what you mean, Glenford.'

It was a strange answer. Something was seriously wrong and Glenford Prentiss could not shake off the feeling that both Freddie and Jimmy had another completely separate agenda.

'How's Maggie?'

Glenford smiled sadly. 'She been sedated, she be out for the night, and me envy her, Fred, because that child dying has been like a bomb going off among them all. And you know something? I wouldn't be any of they, for all the money in the world. Maggie's mum and dad can't believe him would do something like that, you know. The police were called in of course, but I think they see a tragic accident. What else could it be?'

Glenford sighed heavily once more. 'Why would a little child want to do that to himself? Him just playing, kids so fucking dangerous, you know. It make no sense what they doing, they just kids.' He could hear the upset in his own voice and coughed harshly. 'The bag was stuck to his little face. What a fucking thing to have to live with, that sight, what a fucking sad and terrible situation for any parents.'

'What did the filth do?' Freddie made his voice as neutral as he could.

Glenford shrugged. 'Who know what they thinking, fucking scum they are? But they look at everyone and you could see they sorry as anyone else. It was an accident, a tragic accident.'

Freddie didn't answer him. He didn't know what to say.

Instead he walked into the room where Jimmy sat beside his silent, shattered wife, and quietly shut the door behind him.

Jackie was drunk, drunker than she had been in years. But she didn't want to be sober, and as she watched her daughters drinking with her, drowning out the awful knowledge of that child and the way he died, she knew that they finally understood her attitude on life.

Paul and Liselle were serving up the drinks. It was very rare that this lot drank in their pub, but tonight, they knew, was not the usual. Freddie had rarely allowed Jackie inside what he saw as his bastion of maleness, and when he had, it was always a quick visit. But tonight, they were in for the long haul, they were not going anywhere.

Poor Jimmy and Mags, what a thing to happen to diem. Liselle and Paul were both devastated at the news, and that was why they were serving this lot up free gratis.

Liselle remembered all the times Jimmy had brought the boy in for a few minutes. He had been showing him off really, and Liselle understood that. He had been such a proud father, and he had taken that boy out with him as often as he could.

He doted on him, and everyone knew about poor Maggie. She had been rough after his birth and it had taken her a long time to get back on her feet. Jimmy had taken on the burden of the child without a second's thought. They had finally got back to normal, were a happy little family and then this had to come on top. What a fucking thing to happen to anyone. She was so sorry for them, they were a lovely couple.

The thought of that poor child being dead was more than anybody could bear. The whole place was in silent mourning, except when Jackie Jackson's big trap was flapping of course.

Liselle and Jackie had never got on. Liselle loathed her, whereas she loved Mags. And Jackie had been convinced for years that Liselle had something going with Freddie. Poor Jackie thought that about most women at some time or another, but this knowledge did not stop Jackie getting on Liselle's tits.

Paul thought it was hilarious. Well, good for him, but she was just about on the verge of giving Jackie Jackson a slap. That child was on his way to the grave and she was using him as an excuse to cause aggravation.

For once she was not putting up with it.

The girls, though, were lovely. They were doing their best to keep their mother on an even keel, but one more remark and she was going to start the Third World War.

This place was a private drinking hole, a members' only pub if you like. It was used by specific people and that was its main attraction. Liselle felt now, looking at Jackie and hearing her bloody miserable voice, that Freddie for all his faults needed a bolt hole from this fucking drunken pig who was still trying to cause a row with her after twenty years. Like she would touch Freddie Jackson with a barge pole!

Jackie and her company were not paying for their drinks and she was all right with that, why wouldn't she be? But Jackie was acting like this was her due, like this was her manor and this was her local. Well, Liselle was drinking as well, an unusual occurrence for her, and she was up for a fight herself tonight. She needed to get a few things out of her system, off her chest.

Watching his Liselle eyeing Jackie, Paul could feel the tension rising in the room. Then Patricia O'Malley walked in and he sighed and relaxed.

If there was going to be a tear up, he hoped it would be with Pat and Jackie, and not his old woman, because Jackie was going to have a fight. It was not about when or even if, it was more a case of with whom.

Roxanna watched as Pat came in the pub, and she hoped her mother was going to keep a lid on it. She knew about her dad and Pat, everyone did. And Pat, in fairness, was a nice woman who had always been friendly towards her and her sisters.

And Rox understood her father's attraction for this woman, as she understood his attraction for her. Pat was so in your face, so strong-minded, and so independent she knew that she must do her dad's head in.

Rox was shrewd enough to know that it was also what made him want her. Pat was like a man in some respects, she used men like most men used women.

Good luck to her and all, she had the right idea.

Rox admired Pat and her way of life. Even though she knew her mother would muller her for thinking it, when she saw Pat, which she did a lot because of Dicky and the fact they drank here weekends, she thought she looked great. And when she talked to her, which she had been really wary about doing at first, she had found Pat was so with it, so on the ball and so funny that she had forgotten about her mother's very genuine grievance. And she also knew that Pat gave her father something her mother never would or even could. And that something was plain and simple. She gave him normality.

She was the only woman who could treat him like he treated every woman he had ever come across and get away with it. Consequently, he respected her. She took no shit from anyone and she looked fantastic for her age.

Roxanna actually looked up to her.

Now she was interested to see how her mother coped. with being in the same room with her biggest rival. But then, her mother was gone as always, she was completely out of her brains and as Rox watched her she understood for the first time both why her father stayed around, and more to the point, why he played away from home.

Sipping her tonic water, she watched the different little plays that were being acted out in front of her. Jackie had all but forgotten about poor little Jimmy. She was just drinking now because it was there, and she had taken some coke, because it was there. Her mother was nutting it now, she was rocking. She had seen her like this so many times as a kid, and now she didn't even get annoyed any more.

Her own child would have so much more than that from its mother, she was sure. She was going to be there for it, like Mags and Jimmy had been there for their little man. She rubbed her belly, and imagined giving birth to a child and then losing it. As her granny had said in the hospital, it was the wrong order. You should never have to bury a child. They should be the ones to bury you.

Pat had said her hellos. She had hoped to see Freddie but he wasn't here and his wife was, as always on their occasional meetings, giving her the long look.

Like she gave a flying fuck.

But she liked the girls. They were good kids, despite being spawned by the dirty bitch with the grubby feet and the bloated body. She knew her place, though, so she said, in as friendly a manner as she could, 'All right, Jackie. What a terrible thing to happen. My heart goes out to them.' Pat really meant it. 'Poor Mags, she must be in bits.'

Jackie watched her rival, saw her girls as they smiled and said hello to her and noticed how Paul and Liselle were all over her. Then she remembered this was Ozzy's sister, and in fairness, Pat was always nice to her, never rubbed her nose in it like some of his whores had tried over the years. She quite wanted to start a fight anyway, though she knew any trouble with Pat and she would be the one aimed out the door She was enjoying being with her girls for once and Rox had just brought her another large vodka, so she said sadly, 'She is heartbroken, Pat, as you can imagine.'

Jackie was going to play this one nicely. After all, what would she gain this night from having a tear up? Freddie wasn't here and in her heart she actually liked old Pat.

Pat and the entire bar staff gave a collective sigh of relief.

'Do they know how it happened?'

Rox shrugged. 'It's kids, ain't it, but why he put that fucking plastic bag over his head we'll never know.'

Jackie agreed. 'They think everything's a game, don't they? They never understand at that age the dangers of life. But what a terrible thing to happen to any family.'

They were all nodding their heads sagely, and the girls caught each other's eyes, thankful Jackie was not on one of her mad benders. Yet.

'All right, Jim?' Freddie knew that nothing would ever be all right again, but it was just an expression. Something to say, an opening for conversation.

Jimmy nodded. He had aged in the last few hours and Freddie would lay money that his hair was greyer than it had been this morning. Being so dark they had both gone grey early, and their hair was so thick it looked good on them. They could carry it off, it made them look more manly, somehow.

Right now they looked more alike than ever, but that was mainly because they both looked deeply sad, both looked devastated. They had a secret, and this was the moment that they had to decide what they were going to do about it.

'I am so sorry, Jimmy. I swear that to you, mate.'

Jimmy didn't answer him.

'Please, Jimmy, say something. Please say something.' Freddie was begging, a first for him as Jimmy knew better than anyone.

Jimmy sighed and turned to face him, and when he finally spoke his voice was flat. 'I can't tell you what you want to hear, Fred. I am sorry, but I can't. You told me about him a long time ago, and I was sorry for you, really sorry. But this ain't a fucking rabbit or a neighbour's dog, bad as that was. This was my baby and I can't let this go. I am sorry, mate, but I can't.'

'I am sorting it, Jim, I swear.'

It was the word 'sorting' that did it. They were always sorting things. It was their job, what they did for a living. But you couldn't sort out the death of a child, a death that had been caused by another child.

Except Little Freddie wasn't a child, he never had been. He was an animal, a mad bastard. Until now Jimmy had not really cared about that, but then why should he? He was Freddie's son. Why would Jimmy have ever thought he could encroach on his own life and family like this?

That boy had been an accident waiting to happen, and now it was too late.

'What you going to do then, Freddie?'

Freddie was quiet. He was so quiet, it was as if he were a different person, as if all his life had been leading up to this moment. And who knew, thought Jimmy, maybe it had been.

'He'll be gone soon, I promise you. He'll be gone.'

Jimmy laughed half-heartedly. 'Gone, Freddie? In what way? Dead gone? What?'

Freddie was silent once more. He was trying to gather his thoughts but it was hard, so hard. He wished he had not snorted so much gear. It was point nine, the best you could get and he had been hoovering it up like it was going out of fashion.

'He can't help it, Jimmy. I told you that before, he can't help it.'

Jimmy dropped his wife's hand and it fell on to the bed with a soft thud. Then he grabbed Freddie by the scruff of his neck and pulled him towards him roughly so they were eye to eye, and he said through gritted teeth, 'You brought up an animal. Someone was going to pay for his madness in the end, and you knew that. I have sat here and remembered you learning him to swear, and learning him to fight, and it hit me what you did to him. That boy never had a chance, Freddie, you and Jackie made sure of that. You thought it was funny when he attacked his sisters, when he didn't sleep at night and watched those violent films all the time. You created him, and then suddenly he was a big kid and he wasn't so fucking funny any more, was he? He was in trouble with the school, with the courts, and you still didn't get him any help. You left him to it, and now he has killed my baby and you know he has.'

He threw Freddie away from him then, as if frightened to keep up any kind of contact with him. As if he was tainted.

'We don't know that for sure…'

Freddie was desperate to try to make some sense of it, find some other explanation.

Jimmy shook his head at Freddie's denial. 'Jimmy Junior would never have dreamed of putting that bag on his head. Why would he? And it was tied there to keep it in place. The police will be back, Freddie, you know that because it was tied under his little chin. Joe told me that, because he was the one who ripped it off in the end to save Lena seeing it. The bag was stuck to his little face. That took time, Freddie. It was a fucking premeditated act. My little Jimmy couldn't tie his shoelaces, so how would he have managed to tie that bag up under his own little chin, eh? The cunt, why did he do it, Freddie? Why?'

He was nearly crying again. He was so angry and so sad and he was trying so hard to keep a lid on his emotions.

Freddie shook his head. 'I don't know, Jimmy, I really don't know.'

'You have a lot to answer for, you have so much to answer for, Freddie. Stephanie. Lenny. I gave you a pass every time, and now this is the upshot, ain't it? You and him are like two peas in a pod, you have no care for anyone or anything. It's only my Maggie lying here that is stopping me from screaming the truth from the roof tops, because she would never be able to cope with knowing what had really happened. I don't know if I can, either. All I do know at this moment in time is that Maggie must never know what happened, that her little boy had been forced to put that bag over his head. It would kill her. I can't handle it, Freddie. I keep picturing it in my mind. My little Jimmy would have trusted him, would have wanted to please him, he was scared of him. But I am warning you now. If I even catch a glimpse of your boy, he will know what fucking scared really is, because I will not be responsible for my actions.'

Freddie was crying silently and Jimmy could see him wiping away his tears, but he felt nothing for him or his suffering.

'I've sorted it, Jimmy, I swear to you that I've sorted it.'

Jimmy wanted to laugh again, but he didn't have one laugh in him, and he doubted that he ever would again. This wasn't something that could ever be sorted.

'Just go, Freddie, will you? I don't want to be around you any more.'

Freddie didn't argue with him, he stood up and walked quietly from the room. Jimmy didn't even bother to watch him go.

This was the end of his life, and his wife's life. Oh, they would carry on as normal eventually, they had to. It was what happened after something like this, but that would be it. They would be going through the motions, that was all. No more and no less.

Dianna was scared. She was still seeing her Danger Man and he was still mucking her about. She had slipped away to meet him and he had not arrived.

Now, here she was waiting by the side of the road in the dark and she felt certain that he was not going to turn up. He had done this to her before, and she should be in the pub with her family now, where she belonged. They had experienced a terrible tragedy and she should be with them, not out here waiting for a man who treated her like dirt. Terry Baker was like a drug. She needed him, wanted him and without him she felt as if she was nothing.

She had waited over an hour for him, and she had finally had enough. Now she just wanted to be back inside with her family, in the warmth of the pub and sharing their grief together. She was wrong to have left them at all.

She started to walk back slowly. Her heels were high and her feet were killing her, and she was nearly back at the pub when he pulled up.

She decided to ignore him. Just once, she felt she had the right to make him come after her. She walked inside with her head held high and her feet giving her serious gyp.

Terry Baker followed her inside, and it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Roxanna and Kimberley were talking about her pregnancy, and Kimberley was a little bit jealous, but only in a nice way. She envied her sister her life. Dicky was a real diamond and anyone with half a brain could see that he worshipped her sister. Kim didn't have a man. She was still trying to keep herself clean, make a life for herself and she was doing that well enough to please everyone.

The death of little Jimmy had made them all reassess their lives in one way or another and the girls were talking about Roxanna's baby because they couldn't discuss the tragedy any more. It was far too upsetting. The thought of poor Mags having to wake up and find out it was true was playing on both their minds. Dianna came back inside and they nudged one another. They knew Dianna had a fella, but no one could get anything out of her about him.

Jackie was completely gone, and she shouted out gaily, 'Here, Di, where you been, then?'

Dianna smiled and went over to her mother. She noticed that Patricia was also the worse for wear.

'I just popped out for some air, Mum, that's all.'

Jackie laughed her dirty laugh that annoyed the girls with its innuendo. 'Is that what they call it now, Pat? I've come up for air a few times. So have you and all, I bet, Freddie can go all night!!'

She was shrieking with mirth now and Dianna could have clumped her. Imagine her saying that to Pat, as if they were all girls together. Terry must have heard what she had implied about her own child too, and this upset her.

Pat laughed with Jackie as was expected, but she didn't really think it was funny. She had enough on her mind without listening to this crap, but she had to stay. She wanted to see Freddie, hear what had happened from him. She actually needed him for once and this was a real departure for her.

'Hello Terry!' Jackie's voice was loud, and it was friendly.

Terry Baker walked over to the bar and said jovially, 'Is that Jackie Summers as was?'

It had been so long since anyone had called her by her maiden name, and tonight Jackie was pleased to hear it. Jackie Summers.

It seemed like a lifetime since she had been called that.

'Terry Baker! As I live and breathe.' She looked round at her daughters to show them off. Now they were off her hands she enjoyed people seeing these good-looking girls of hers. She knew she had no right to take any of the credit at all really, but that didn't stop her.

'Here, girls, this was my first boyfriend. We was in the juniors and I went out with him to make your dad jealous.'

They were laughing together and Dianna wanted them to drop down dead, she wanted them to disappear. She could tell Jackie, her mother, had been on the okey doke, as Terry was himself. Like her mother, once he had snorted a few lines he got outrageous, he forgot what he was saying and, more to the point, who he was saying it to.

'Nice-looking girls, Jackie, but then you were a looker in your day, eh?'

Jackie ignored the inference that she was a bit battered around the edges, and ordered more drinks for them. She liked Terry and he had been away for a long time on an armed robbery, so she allowed for him talking out of turn. Fifteen years with no one but a load of other men and his right arm could do that to a body, she knew.

Dianna was blushing and she was convinced everyone in the pub knew her secret. All she wanted now was for the floor to open up and swallow her.

'So what brings you here, then?'

Terry shrugged. 'Same thing as you, I assume. A drink, Jackie.'

Jackie smiled. 'Oh, we've been in here for a while-'

He interrupted her and said unpleasantly, 'I guessed that one, love, you're fucking well gone.' He laughed at his own joke. But no one was laughing with him.

Jackie was still unaware of the undercurrent around her, but Paul and Liselle were making eye contact. This could be more aggravation and they knew it.

'Have you heard, Tel?'

'Heard what, mate?' He was all ears now, pretending to be interested in what Jackie was saying, holding out his hands in a theatrical flourish.

Pat and the girls had picked up on him immediately. He was wacked out of his head and he was after a row, was looking for a scapegoat. He was disrespecting Jackie Jackson, and that alone said he had to be on a death wish.

Jackie, though, was oblivious to the fact he was taking the piss. It had not even occurred to her.

'Poor Jimmy Jackson lost his son today.'

Terry frowned as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and then he said sarcastically, 'And where did he lose him exactly, Jackie, in the public bogs? In the Amazon jungle, up Jack's arse and round the corner? Where?'

He was staring into her face and he was half smiling a nasty, sarcastic smile that was daring her to answer him.

It finally penetrated Jackie's brain that he was having a rise out of her. She was hurt, and she was upset. He had made a fool of her and she had not noticed it happening, but she knew now that everyone else had.

Dicky was watching carefully and she knew he was waiting to step in. But Terry was an old mate, why would he want to mug her off like that in front of everyone? He knew who her old man was, and to take the rise out of the child's dying would never be forgiven by any of the people within earshot, let alone Freddie and Jimmy when they heard about it. And they would hear about it.

She felt a hand gently guide her away from Terry.

'Why don't you take your drink and fuck off, mate, learn a bit of respect?' Dicky was fuming, he wasn't going to have this, especially not off an ice cream like Terry Baker.

Terry turned towards him and said menacingly, 'Why, are you going to make me, then?'

Dianna was mortified. Why was he doing this? Why was he causing all this trouble? She was on the verge of fainting with fright.

'With pleasure, mate. You want a fucking row, you just got one.' Dicky was well up for anything that was going now.

Jackie turned back.

'Stop it, Terry. What's the matter with you? What is your fucking problem?'

He looked at Jackie then and she saw complete and utter disgust in his face as he said loudly, 'Who are you then, Jackie? Who the fuck are you to ask me what's wrong?'

He was poking his finger at her now, and Jackie being Jackie was not about to let him get away with taking the piss out of her, let alone slagging her off like she was no one.

As her arm came back to punch him, Patricia grabbed her and pulled her away, and then Dicky went in like a bulldog.

Paul had already cleared the glasses from the bar, and he jumped over it wielding a baseball bat, which he brought down on Terry's head with all the force he could muster. Dicky grabbed it off him and all hell was let loose.

A pole dancer and friend of Jackie's called Pat the Pole, or Pat Fletcher, had also been on the receiving end of Terry's vicious tongue and, being the type of woman she was, she was determined to join in the fray. She aimed a kick that unfortunately hit Dicky instead, knocking him flying. Her shapely legs were her prized asset, and more than one man was pleased to get an eyeful.

Pat's husband, Harry Fletcher, a market trader from Romford, was a man who knew how to look after himself. He prided himself on the fact that he was scared of no man; the only person he was even remotely scared of was Pat's mother, known to all and sundry as Nanny Donna. As Harry jumped in and tried to remove his wife from the middle of the fracas, a large young man called Richie Smith shouted out, 'Leave her to it, Harry, she'll do a fucking better job than you.'

Even Dicky was laughing as Richie helped Harry calm his wife down. Then he turned back to Terry Baker. Terry was about to get the hiding of his life, and no one watching the event, not even young Dianna, was willing to help him out.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Terry was lying on the filthy floor battered and bleeding, and against her better judgement Dianna went to him. As she tried to kneel on the floor beside him to give him some kind of comfort, Roxanna dragged her away roughly.

'Leave him, Di, for fuck's sake. He is a fucking muppet.' Her tone showed that she thought her sister had gone mad.

But look at him, Rox, he's in a right state.'

'Fucking right and all, so he should be.'

Rox's voice was hard and without any emotion whatsoever, and it occurred to Dianna that even though she professed to loathe their so-called father, Rox was actually more like him than she thought.

In fact, it was the loyalty factor that was kicking in, no more and no less.

Dianna could hear Terry groaning, knew he had to be in terrible pain and she didn't know what to do about any of it. She had caused all this. He had explained about her father hating him, and how Freddie had used him in the past. If she had only waited for him outside, if only she had not walked away from him like she had, this would never have happened. Now look at him. He would never forgive her, she knew that, and who could blame him?

His forearm was shattered, it was hanging loosely at the elbow. He had been trounced so badly that he would never be able to work again. He was covered in his own blood and even though they knew he would live, that would not guarantee him a pass once Freddie Jackson heard the full story.

Terry had to have been mad to even think he might get away with mugging off Freddie's kinfolk. Jackie Jackson was renowned as a piss head, a pill popper and a wanker, and that was just what her friends said about her in the comfort and safety of their own homes. But she was Freddie Jackson's wife, even if he only stuck around because of the boy. Jackie was off limits to anyone who valued their life, their family's lives, or their credibility.

Terry Baker must be off his trolley, but then, they had heard the stories about him. Gossip was, after all, their main conversational directive. It wasn't classed as gossip, of course, it was classed as tipping each other the wink, or giving out the nod. They dealt in facts, not women's chat.

Dicky was shaking with the anger and the excitement a real heavy tear up created in a body, especially when he was the undisputed victor. He gulped at the brandy handed to him by Paul, and he felt the friendly and respectful hand that squeezed his shoulder gently. Paul was telling him he had done the right thing.

As he looked at Rox he knew he had pleased this beautiful woman of his no end. She was made up with pride, and she was beaming at him now as he tried to calm himself down.

He had saved her mother's reputation, what was left of it anyway, and defended her honour. Whatever she might think of her mother privately, no one outside their tight-knit circle of family would ever hear it from her. Jackie was, after all, her mother. In their world that accounted for everything.

Dicky understood that way of thinking, and he would give Jackie her creds. His own mother had been on the game most of her life, and he respected her for that. He didn't like it, but he understood it. The grief he had taken as a child over her chosen, but ultimately lucrative, lifestyle had paid off for them both. The fights that had consequently ensued as she had been called names, been denigrated by the kids he mixed with, had stood him in good stead for this kind of life. He could have a row, and he appreciated the fact that he could take on men much larger than him, because that had been a must all his life.

Fight or die, had been his only option then, and he had fought for his mother at first and then later on for himself, for the respect of his peers. His father had been either banged up or on the trot most of his life. She had done what she could to keep them clothed and fed, and no one would ever say anything about her that was even remotely out of order.

Now the fight was over, the doors had been locked and the place was to all intents and purposes out of bounds, especially to the Old Bill. It was taken for granted that, naturally, no one had seen or even heard anything that had happened.

Terry would be dumped outside a hospital at some point, but for the moment he could lie there and think about what a cunt he was, because that was the general consensus of every person in the building.

Rox pulled Dianna to one side and said under her breath, 'What the fuck is going on with you? He was cunting our mother and you were going to help him?'

She was trying to understand this sister of hers, who as far as she was concerned needed a slap herself. They all knew the score, they had grown up knowing the score, so why would Dianna, Dianna of all the people in this place, try and help him? It didn't make sense, but being a clever girl the reason why hit her like a billiard ball in a sock.

'Is he the mystery bloke? Is he the fucking squeeze you've been hiding away? No wonder you didn't want the old man to know about him. That is Terry Baker.'

Dianna nodded. She had been sussed.

'Dad hates him, Di.'

Dianna was nearly in tears. 'Dad hates everyone.' She sounded like a petulant child even to her own ears.

'He hates him for a reason and you know that. For all his faults Dad looks out for us in his own way. Terry Baker was banged up on an armed robbery and he caused untold aggravation for the old man before he went. You would do well to remember that in future.'

Terry Baker had gone down in history as one of the only people to ever mug off Freddie Jackson and get away with it, but only because of a lucky capture while robbing a NatWest bank in Silvertown. No one knew what had caused the barney in the first place, only that Freddie had been looking for him for days before the fatal blag. The lump Terry had incurred had in fact been a lifesaver.

He was handsome, a man with panache, and he was also what was commonly termed an arsehole. He had gone down in local folklore as a man who had blagged with no rhyme or reason, except for a pump-action shotgun and two mates as stupid and naïve as he was. He had always been a person with a personality deficit, which was caused by his complete lack of one in the first place.

He would argue over a pound, and with drink or drugs inside him he became morose and aggressive and he was also under the mistaken impression that he could take on all comers. Terry Baker was a lot of things but a fighter was not one of them. He was a weapons man, a machete king, not a fisticuffs person, regardless of what he might think to the contrary.

But women loved him. He knew how to push all the right buttons and his handsome face was adept at hiding his utter contempt for the female population. He had seen Dianna as nothing more than a bit of fluff, some fun. He was shagging his biggest enemy's daughter, and what more could any man in his position want?

'Dad, please, Dad…'

Freddie sighed as he stopped the car. As he looked as his son, his boy, he was not surprised to find that he had no feelings for him whatsoever. He had felt a lot of emotions about this child over the years, anger, love, sorrow. Even he was susceptible to a child's ability to make you love them, make you protect them, but even Freddie Jackson had his limit.

No matter what he had done in his own life, no matter how badly he had treated Little Freddie and even Maggie over the years, he could not, in any way, shape or form countenance his son's actions.

Little Freddie frightened him. This was a child who, without knowing it, had taken away the son he had secretly loved.

Jimmy Junior had been everything he had wanted in a child. He was also his trump card in a war that he had caused by himself and which he was also fighting by himself. Every time Jimmy had made a new deal, had cranked his power up another notch, Freddie had been able to console himself that he had the upper hand, that he knew something Jimmy boy didn't. He had needed that power.

Then something had happened that he would have believed impossible, and after a long time of fighting it, had eventually had to accept it.

Jimmy Junior had got under his skin, had made him vulnerable. And this child of his, Little Freddie, had somehow sensed that, had resented that, and like his father would, he had taken steps to prevent it from going any further.

In one way, a detached part of him could see the boy's point of view, but it was wrong. Little Freddie was far too young to be removing anyone from his orbit. Far too young to have countenanced even letting the thought cross his mind.

He kept seeing that little boy fighting for his breath, and it was the knowledge another child had wilfully and purposely brought that suffering about that was so hard to stomach. He desperately needed to make some sense of it all. He loved Little Freddie in his own peculiar way, and he knew this child loved him, really loved him.

He had proved that by his actions.

He also knew that this boy of his was a time bomb. One day he could be at risk from his son, and Rox's child could easily be what he saw as the next threat to his security.

Driving along, he had told Little Freddie that he knew what he had done and that he was going to give him up. Not to the filth, that would be too much even for Freddie Jackson, but he would put him into care and leave him there to rot.

But now he had actually stopped the car, had made himself stare into Little Freddie's eyes, he wondered whether he could in all honesty go that far. This boy had kept him in a house he hated, with a woman he had not wanted since before he had been sentenced and shut away from the world for years, and he had been dragged up by his wife, the child's own mother, the person who should have been the one to make sure he was secure and cared for. Jackie had a lot to answer for, and he had a lot of things to make good somehow, to mend.

It was this simple fact that was stopping him in his tracks now. He knew what it was like to be unwanted. His father had never cared for him, not really, and he understood his son's fear that someone else might be more important than him. Might be snatching the little bit of love and affection he was given as and when it suited the parent in question.

Freddie was more than aware of his failings, and he wanted to put this night, and this son, as far away from him as he could, but he was responsible for Little Freddie.

He knew he should do what he had promised, but it was easier said than done. This was his legal flesh and blood, and he wasn't so sure he could dump him now.

It wasn't just his face and the fear it was displaying, though. He could feel the genuine terror coming off his only son in waves. It was also because Little Freddie was his only son, and he knew how it felt to be ignored, knew how it felt to be unwanted, seen as nothing more than a bind. Freddie's mother too had used him and made him the be all and end all of her married life. Like Jackie, Maddie had known that his father would have gone on the trot. It had been left to Freddie to make sure he finally did the right thing, and he had. Freddie had been there for his father from the beginning to the end of his chequered and pointless life.

So he wasn't sure he could turn this child away now the anger had subsided and the knee-jerk reaction of earlier in the day had all but worn off.

He had a duty to his only son. He should be standing by him, trying to make sense of what had happened and try to stop it happening ever again.

He wanted to wash his hands of Little Freddie and punish him for his actions, and until now he had been determined to do just that. But now, looking at him and seeing the child's deep unhappiness he really was not so sure he should give up on him. Jimmy Junior was gone, but this boy was still here.

His mobile went off and cursing silently to himself he answered it.

Lena and Joe had come back to the hospital because they didn't really know what else to do. They felt so guilty, so responsible. Their daughter was prostrate with grief and they decided they should be beside her no matter what.

Joe, especially, felt the full force of what had happened. He felt it so acutely that he wondered if he would survive this feeling he was carrying around in his chest like a lead weight. It wasn't just that the boy had died, it was also because he knew it was not the accident everyone thought it was.

He should have opened his mouth as soon as he had realised what had really gone on. That mad bastard Freddie had finally killed someone, and he had killed the dearest, the most important person in their lives.

But, for all that, and as big a fucker as that child was, Joe's natural loyalty made him unsure about bringing this into the public domain. Little Freddie was his flesh and blood, and Joe was also worried about Jackie's reaction.

In his heart he was worried about Freddie knowing the score, though he was even more worried about Maggie finding out. It would bring his whole family down in an instant.

He also knew, or rather guessed, that Jimmy knew far more about this than he was letting on. So he sat with his wife and son-in-law by the bedside of his lovely daughter, who he knew would never recover from this tragedy.

Jackie snorted her line of coke, sniffing noisily as she brought the white powder through her nose and into the back of her throat. The bitter taste made her gag but she brought her head forward and sniffed loudly once more to make sure she got the full monty inside her head. Then she looked into the dirty mirror that adorned the wall of the pub toilet and for the first time in years saw herself as others saw her.

She was yellow, not yet jaundiced, but well on her way. 'Sallow skinned' was how her mother described her.

Her hair was lank and greasy, her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and her body was aching and bloated. She had waited for her Freddie, and she had longed for her Freddie, and when he had finally emerged from his prison cell he had looked younger than ever and fitter than ever.

That was when she had really needed a drink.

Deep inside, her condition frightened her, but like many an alcoholic before her, until the symptoms were up and running and kicking her arse she would ignore them. What else could she do? Drink made the days bearable and the nights pass.

Freddie didn't want her, he wanted the Pats of this world and the young girls, and she couldn't compete with them. She was too far gone now. Since Kimberley's birth she had been ruined. Her belly was saggy and she was marked all over. Even the backs of her knees and the backs of her arms had been stretched. The little confidence she had possessed had deserted her like her husband had.

Jackie hadn't had the advice that was given out these days – use a lotion, don't put on too much weight. She had been told she was eating for two! No one was expected to look like a fucking beauty queen when they were in the club, no one had told you then how to avoid the wrecking of your body. Magazines were not read for those kind of tips. She had only ever bought True Crime, sometimes a Woman's Own. When the recipes had been the hook, and she had not even known about healthy eating until it was all too late.

The first birth had ruined her all right, and when you had someone like Freddie, you were more than aware that there were trollops lining up to be on his arm, the villain's arm. Freddie, like most of his counterparts, needed the approbation those girls afforded him, needed to be seen with those young girls. Her father had been the same, but in a much smaller league of course.

Freddie had broken her heart and she had never recovered from it.

So stopping drinking was not an option for her. With a few drinks inside her, she could pretend her life was great, convince herself that her husband loved her really, and with a few shots in the morning her hands stopped shaking long enough for her to light a cigarette.

It was so easy for everyone else to condemn her, talk about her drink problem. Especially her girls, who were still relative virgins where men were concerned and still believed in happy ever after. But they would learn, as all women learned eventually. Life took its toll on women far quicker than it did on the men.

Jackie had a few drinks because without the crutch of alcohol, her life and all it entailed absolutely terrified her. It had helped her sleep when Freddie had been banged up, when the utter loneliness had been more than she could bear. A couple of shots had brightened her day when the pressure of being alone with three kids had been so intense, and the need of her husband had been so acute, she had felt as if she would die from the want of him.

When a man was sentenced to prison, the judge, the lawyers, barristers, whoever was involved in the court process, never realised that a whole family was often sentenced along with them. The bad man was put away, and so he should be, he had broken the law. Society could sleep easier at night, but what about the mothers and the wives and the kids that were left behind, mourning someone they loved who was gone for a lifetime, but who was not dead? What about the love they had for them? The person being accused in the courts was often like a stranger to their family members, and was often made to look far worse than they actually were by over-zealous policemen and the Crown Prosecution Service. So the family didn't think that justice had actually been done, because they missed the person they knew, the person who had loved them, and who they loved in return, the person who had always stood by them, or who had walked the floor with them when they were babies, sat beside them when they were ill. Loved them whatever.

No one thought of people like her, whose whole life was over in minutes because of a jury verdict, who had two little girls and a belly full of arms and legs when her husband had been placed so far away from her. Who had been left on her own and without any kind of support whatsoever. Who had given birth alone, and with tears running down her face because the baby would not see her father for months, and could only be parented from afar, on visits, and by a man who she didn't know from Adam. So a drink had been her salvation in the end, had been the one thing that could stop the ache inside her and ensure she slept at night.

By the time Freddie had been on the out she had been consumed with the habit, and even his presence had not been enough to make her stop.

Now she looked into this grimy and scuffed mirror and she saw what Freddie saw. Terry Baker had proved to her the truth of her life, that she was a nothing, a no one and that she was only a joke to people.

He had destroyed her in front of nearly everyone she knew, and it didn't matter that Dicky boy had stepped in to defend her. The damage had already been done.

She cut another line quickly and neatly. She needed total oblivion tonight and she was determined to achieve it. If she was going to walk out there again and face everyone she needed all the Dutch courage she could get. She might be a piss head, she might be a prescription drug queen, but the great thing about it all was, with a few drinks inside her she could laugh about it, in a way she'd never manage if she was straight and sober.

Now that was a state of mind she hoped she never experienced again, because it was only the drink that kept her from jumping off the nearest bridge she could find. Drink problem, well fucking whoopee. For all their whispers, they were actually confusing her with someone who cared.

'Can we go home, Dad, please?'

Freddie shook his head. They were on the way to Paul and Liselle's. He had just received a call to say they were experiencing a soupçon of trouble from a local bully boy. His Roxanna had rung him, before it all got out of hand. She said that the usual faces were in there, but she felt he should come and have a look see. Freddie was annoyed now. Paul and Liselle were good people and he was not about to have them disturbed by what amounted to the equivalent of a fucking lager lout. A few of the local fucking ice creams had tried to get an in, and they had been sorely disappointed. So an event like this was not unheard of, though he would not normally deal with it personally. Any other time he would have made a call, he would have delegated the job out to a lesser person on the payroll.

He was good at that, delegating, but he had decided to sort this lot out for himself, to show willing, he supposed. The pub was Ozzy's and so he had to make sure the punters' nights were untouched by any kind of aggravation. They expected to drink in a trouble-free environment. He was also going there personally because he needed an excuse to delay his decision about his boy.

Without looking at his son, he said, 'I have to sort out a bit of business. Now just be quiet and let me concentrate on me driving, eh?'

Little Freddie was for the first time in his life unsure of what he was going to do. He had no remorse in him, he was incapable of it, but he was frightened of his father because this time he might actually put him away. The social worker had been harking on about it for ages, and he knew that one word from his dad and he was guaranteed a lock-up somewhere, without any chance of kiddie parole. It was his mother who was keeping the wolf from his door, and he made a point of keeping her sweet.

This man, though, his father, who walked in and out of his life at a whim, finally had him well and truly sussed out. For a moment there, Little Freddie had been convinced he was off to the land of the psychologists. Now, though, he had seen a little chink of light, and he was going to milk that for all it was worth.

He was learning the hard way that he had to keep on the right side of everyone, especially his father, and his days of saying and doing what he wanted were long gone. He had to keep a low profile, do what was expected and wait until he could safely and securely be himself to do what he wanted, when he wanted. And he was shrewd enough to know that even then he would need the protection of his family around him.

Since he could first understand his surroundings, he had known on some level that he was different. He had no real feelings for anything or anyone. He had thought his father was like him, but now he was not so sure.

Jimmy Junior had been a severe irritation for a long time, and he had been determined to rid himself of the boy's constant presence. He was disappointed in his father because he was only trying to emulate him. He had not wanted him to find out what he had done, but he had not expected his dad of all people to make such a song and dance about it.

Now it was all about damage limitation, as governments said when they fucked up big time. And he was more than aware that he had fucked up what had been a very relaxed and very protected lifestyle.

Damage limitation was definitely the order of the day.

Freddie walked into the bar and the first thing he saw was his girls surrounding their mother in a protective cocoon. After the revelation about his boy, he was pleased that they were such good girls, even poor old Kimberley was a diamond, problems or no problems. He saw how protective they were of Jackie and he was heartened to see it. She was going to need them in the future, he would lay his last pound on that.

As soon as he'd entered the pub he'd sensed that there was something drastically amiss, and he was right. Paul motioned with his head and he followed the direction of the man's eyes. What he saw put the seal on what had already been a strange few days.

Terry Baker, his one-time friend and the archenemy, was lying in a pool of blood by the back doors.

He had been dragged there by Paul and Dicky until such time as someone decided to take him to the hospital on their way home. Some of the regulars were debating on whether they should just dump him at the train station, always a good place to dump people, but seeing Freddie Jackson in the doorway they were saved from any more pointless conversation about it. He would sort it out, so they could get back to the serious business of the night, drinking and talking.

Mug bunnying was the order of the day, coke was dispensed liberally, and the tragedy that had befallen Jimmy was as good a topic of conversation as any.

Taking a drink from Liselle, Freddie walked over to his family and for the first time in years he was not scanning the room for strange. He noticed that his wife looked crestfallen and guessed that whatever had happened with Terry Baker had involved her in some way.

Looking at the girls he was reminded of how attractive they actually were. Even his Kimberley, who had been a big girl when she was young, now had a trim figure and a sweet, heart-shaped face like the other two.

He was told what had occurred quietly and succinctly, and he amazed everyone once more by shaking Dicky's hand, thanking him, and not bothering to go over and finish the job young Dicky had started. Pat had received nothing more than a curt nod and this everyone knew must have been annoying for her. Freddie didn't even look at her after that, he had other things on his mind-Terry was unconscious now, and that was how he would stay until he was delivered back into the outside world. 'What a ponce, eh? You all right, Jack, you OK?' Jackie looked at this husband of hers in speechless shock. He was genuinely concerned. Young Dicky was also amazed and he could see that Rox was thrilled by the reception he had received from her father.

Freddie had just finished his drink when young Freddie knocked on the doors to be admitted, and there was nothing his father could do to stop him. Jackie, full of her own self-pity and still smarting from the insults she had received, hugged her son to her tightly. For once in his life, he was quite happy to let her.

The girls made a fuss of him, pleased he was on his best behaviour, and he was all smiles and big eyes as he charmed them.

Freddie watched him closely as he interacted with his family, aware that his son was sensible enough to know that he was going to need all the friends he could get.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maggie had hardly spoken to anyone since she had woken up in the hospital with her head heavy from the drugs used to calm her and her whole being numb with shock. She had left with her husband the next morning with a prescription for the tablets that had kept her from feeling anything too acute. And since then she had just gone through the motions.

She was pale and she looked delicate. Other than that she was her usual pretty self, but all the happiness had gone from her face. She looked tired out, sad-eyed, and she was acting almost normally except she barely uttered a word.

Her hair was perfect, and her clothes were, as always, immaculate, and she even cooked a meal for Jimmy as she had always done.

Jimmy watched his wife now as she made coffee for him, and observed her as she laid out a tray, with a plate of biscuits, a napkin and a small coffee pot. The caterers were working around her. She had not even acknowledged their presence, but he knew she was aware of them. He had been relieved when he had seen her dressed in black. He had been dreading having to force her to go to the child's funeral.

She filled the little white china pot with coffee, and she wiped the sides delicately before placing it on the tray once more. It was like a work of art, and he had no stomach for it.

She had a knack for making things look smart, stylish, she always had done. Their homes, even the little rabbit hutch they had first owned, had looked like something from a magazine. Now this house, which had finally become like the home he had always dreamed of, the house that had finally rung with the sound of childish laughter, was suddenly like a mausoleum.

He couldn't bring himself to go in the boy's bedroom. He knew that Maggie did, he had listened to her sob there in the night, the only time he had observed a proper reaction from her. When he had gone in there, though, she had pushed him away. She wanted to be alone with her grief and her hurt.

But he couldn't bear it. He knew he was not ready to see all the paraphernalia that constituted a child's life, the toys, the little slippers, the trains that had been painted on the walls so carefully.

He had gone to get a plate from the kitchen the day before and he had picked up his Jimmy's Thomas the Tank Engine bowl and he had stood there, in the huge room with its Aga and its American-style fridge and cried his eyes out.

When did the pain stop?

Maybe today, once the funeral was over, he would finally be able to make some sense of it.

Jimmy could hear the tables being erected in his front room, knew they would be covered in white damask and that the food would be exemplary. It was the least he could do for his boy's send-off.

The place would be packed out, and he just wanted the whole thing over with so he could grieve in peace.

Freddie was already dressed in his funeral garb and having a drink with Paul in the pub. Even Paul had noticed that Jimmy was blanking him, and any sympathy Freddie had felt was all but gone now. He knew that Jimmy was treating him as if he was a nothing, a no one, a fucking ice cream.

Jimmy had not returned any of his calls, he had not tried to contact him about work, he was getting what amounted to orders from Paul here, who was now a fucking go-between, and he knew Paul felt this himself. Was obviously wondering what the score was.

Freddie was fuming now, absolutely fuming. He was back to his old self. He had tried being the nice guy, and what had it got him? A fucking humungous mugging off, that's what, and he was not standing for it. Jimmy Junior's death was terrible, but his boy wasn't going to take the fucking fall for it. He had slung Little Freddie back on his pills, and he was making sure the fucker took them this time, but at the end of the day, whatever had happened in that room, Freddie felt that Jimmy should respect him and all he had stood for over the years no matter what.

The old animosity was back, and Freddie was annoyed with himself over his weakness and the fact that Jimmy had used it to take advantage of him. Well, he had learned a lesson here. He had nearly turned his back on his son, and for what? For whom? A man he had raised from the fucking gutter and who had slipped in like a snake and taken all that, by rights, should have been his.

He had seen the change in his boy. He was adamant he had not taken part in what had happened, and Joe had admitted to Freddie that he had not actually seen Little Freddie go into the kid's room that night. So he had nothing really to go on, they had just assumed it was his Freddie. He had, in effect, allowed Jimmy to cloud his judgement.

Jimmy Junior could have tied the bag himself, he was a bright little spark and Jimmy was trying to blame his boy for his own failings. They should never have left him with Lena and Joe. They were old, they weren't able enough for a lively kid like him.

He had taken his Little Freddie under his wing, and he was now of the opinion that the boy had been grievously maligned. He was only a kid, and he was now back on the happy pills and like a different person.

Jimmy, even allowing for his grief, was not making all this any easier with his fucking attitude. He was acting like he was something special, someone better than him. He was giving Freddie fucking orders as if he was a novice to the game.

It was an insult of momentous proportions. And Freddie Jackson, with his knack of rewriting history to his advantage and convincing himself that his was the true and accurate account of what happened, was once more after revenge.

Jackie was wearing a black skirt and jumper provided by Roxanna, who had also been over that morning to blow-dry her mother's hair. As Jackie applied her make-up, she wondered at the day that was overcast and chilly, and on which they would be burying a small child. It was unbelievable that such a tragic occurrence could hit their families. It must be doubly hard for Maggie, who had not expressed an interest in her child for three years. The guilt must be eating at her like a cancer.

Freddie was adamant that Little Fred must not go to the funeral, in fact, the child had been almost tied to the house. She was aware that his little cousin's death had hit him hard, and since it had happened he was a changed boy. Polite, friendly and almost annoying in his quest to be helpful and useful. It was as if he had been given a personality transplant.

Freddie had felt the change in his boy and they were now like that. She mentally crossed her fingers in her mind.

After the terrible events, Freddie had seemed pleased to see his son not only alive and well, but also trying to make up for his past behaviour. He was a model son now, and even the social workers had been amazed at his changed persona. Freddie made sure he took his pills every day as specified. She had never been able to get that child to take them, yet for Freddie he was as good as gold about it.

Freddie, though, had hardly been near poor Jimmy and Maggie, and that had confused her. Even though Maggie didn't want anyone round the house, and Jimmy said she was best left alone, Jackie had at least expected Freddie to be there for Jimmy. Yet from what she could make out he had basically left him to it.

When she had tried to discuss it with him, he had bitten her head off and the only thing she could deduce from his behaviour was that he was also grieving for the little boy. Freddie had always made such a song and dance about that child, and it had annoyed her because he had rarely done that with his own kids. She knew it had upset Maggie too, and she had seen her almost wince when Freddie had picked the child up and thrown him into the air. Jimmy Junior had screamed with laughter, and been thrilled at all the attention. Her own son had sat there watching the little display with his usual stoic demeanour, and she had felt Little Freddie was probably wishing his father had bothered to shower him with so much love and attention.

She had to admit, Jimmy Junior had been a lovely little kid. She conveniently forgot the times she had accused her sister of ruining the boy, had felt that her mother and father had preferred him to her son, had accused them in her drunkenness of favouritism and used any excuse to make out the child wasn't right.

Now she was the perfect sister, or at least she had tried to be, but even at this terrible time Maggie had not wanted to see her, and that had hurt.

The official story was that no one had been able to get across the doorstep, but she knew in her heart that the girls had been allowed access, especially her Rox, who was closer to Maggie than she had ever been to her own mother. Jackie swallowed down her anger at her thoughts, and then she gulped at her glass of vodka to calm her thoughts, and quickly washed down a few Valium before spraying herself with Giorgio perfume and slipping on her old black suede slingbacks. Her feet were spilling over the edges, but once she had worn them for a few minutes they moulded into her shape and were comfortable.

As her old Nan used to say, get yourself a good bed and a good pair of shoes, because if you ain't in one, you are in the other. Wise words.

She had also said many times, never drink to forget, because no one ever forgets the ramblings of a piss head. For Jackie, that had been proved to be true.

Maggie stared at the small white coffin and wondered at a God who could have given her a child in such terrible circumstances and had then seen fit to take him away from her. It was cold in the church, and she was aware that everyone was watching her as if waiting for her to do something.

All she wanted to do was die. How would her little Jimmy get on all alone? But then, he had been given plenty of practice at being alone, hadn't he? She had left him to his own devices enough times.

The pain hit her once more. It came in waves, washing over her like an icy wind, making her bones ache and her jaw numb. Maggie was freezing with pain, she was almost stiff with the cold knowledge of her son's death and the awful suspicion that this feeling inside her would never be eased, it would never get any better, that it could only get worse.

She felt suddenly as if she was floating up into the air, like she was suspended over the crowd of people all singing their hearts out.

She felt Jimmy grab her hand and squeeze it tightly, and she fought back the urge to snatch it away from him, make him stop this charade. She wanted to scream out the black, putrid hate that was building up inside her.

Freddie, she noticed, was not crying. Jackie was, a loud, heavy, liquid sound that made her want to retch. They were in the pew opposite them. It was Glenford who was sitting with them, and she knew that some people must have been questioning that fact.

Roxanna, who was sitting beside her father in a smart black two-piece that must have set her back a small fortune, was also crying, but her tears Maggie appreciated. Rox's tears were clean and salty looking, she even cried in a tidy, designer way. Dabbing at her eyes daintily with a snow-white handkerchief, unconsciously making sure her make-up wasn't ruined.

Dicky, the love of Rox's life, was sitting on her right side. He had a handsome profile. He was a good-looking man, and they would produce a lovely child. She envied them, not in a nasty, jealous way, but in a wistful way. She envied them their love and the newness of everything. She had been like that once with Jimmy, and she had believed, as they probably believed, that their life would be charmed somehow. That nothing bad could happen to them, that they were different to everyone else, their love could only bring them joy.

Of course life had a habit of kicking you squarely in the teeth, and she prayed that those two young lovers would not find that out for a long time.

Jimmy was shaking with his grief. He was sitting beside her with his head down and his shoulders hunched over, and she could almost feel his pain, it was so acute.

Yet she now felt nothing, she just wanted this over.

Behind her she could hear her mother sobbing and her father's inadequate words of comfort whispered in the quiet of the church. It was too little, too late.

She felt like screaming once more but she forced herself to keep quiet, forced herself to people-watch, to take her mind off her troubles.

Jackie was slumped in the pew. Her fat legs were crossed and her black skirt had ridden up over her knees to display varicose veins and milk bottle white calves that wouldn't have looked out of place on Geoff Capes.

Maggie wanted to laugh, but she didn't. She wanted to stand up and ask the people in this packed church why they had even come. Most of them had only glimpsed her little Jimmy. Many were here to show their friendship, a good few to show their respect for her husband and his employer, but she also knew there were people attending her son's burial who would brag about it. Who saw it as an event not to be missed.

But Jimmy was well able for the hangers-on, always had been. It was Freddie who had trouble keeping them at bay like normal people. He embraced them, needed them and their approbation, and their sneaky little ways of carrying on.

The priest was saying the Gospel now. Soon she could go, soon she could make her escape from the kind people who thought that shaking her hand and kissing her cheek would make everything all right.

They were all back at the house and the main crowd had finally gone. It was early evening, and the only people left were close family and a few friends.

Jimmy had been pleased with the turnout. It was reassuring to know that so many people cared about Jimmy Junior, knew him, wanted to pay their respects. Even his little friends from his playschool had been represented by the owners and the young girls who had worked there.

Maggie had sat through the whole thing without a word or a tear.

She had not accepted any condolences and even her old friends had found themselves being blanked. Seriously blanked, in fact. She had not even returned their phone calls or acknowledged their black-edged cards, cards that she said spewed out their own fear of death while pretending to sympathise with her loss.

The service had been beautiful, and the tears from the women present had been heartfelt. Burying a child was difficult, no one wanted it to be happening but they would rather it was someone else's child than their own.

Freddie was drinking heavily, but then so were most of the people in the place. Even Jimmy was the worse for wear, but on a day like this what else was there to do? He just wanted to try to anaesthetise the pain inside him, that was all.

His parents were both at a loss, and he felt, as he often did, that he was completely apart from them and their life. Lena and Joe were in pieces. Joe was hammering the whisky and, if it helped him get though the day, he was glad of that. Lena had aged so much in such a short space of time, and he was heart sorry for her.

She had said a very true thing to him that afternoon. She said that this kind of heartbreak made you realise what was really important in life, and when you experienced it, then thought back to what you had seen as important before the event, you suddenly understood that really, you were as nothing in the grand scheme of things.

It showed you that life was just a series of events, that was all, and you had no real power over it whatsoever. You just thought you did.

Jimmy had nodded his agreement, and it had occurred to him that he loved Lena Summers. She was a lovely woman and he was lucky to have her as his mother-in-law.

That thought made him glance at poor old Dicky, who would soon be lumbered with having Jackie as his. What a terrifying thought that was.

He watched Jackie. She was drinking, he noticed, in constant yet very large quantities. She should by rights be floored by now, unable to string a sentence together and unsteady on her feet. But not Jackie, Jackie the animal. She was still sober in comparison to everyone else.

He knew Little Freddie was on the prowl, was still walking around as if nothing had happened. The verdict on his son's death had been misadventure. 'A tragic accident and my heart goes out to his parents and family.' Those had been the stupid old bastard in the coroner's court's exact words.

Jimmy understood on one level Freddie's need to protect his own flesh and blood. He knew Freddie had wanted to make the boy pay but blood, it seemed, really was thicker than water.

But not Jimmy's blood, he had no feeling any more for the man he had adored, the man who he had kept employed for years. He had watched him make his son into the animal he had become and they had all stood back because Freddie was Freddie, and he was a nutter and he used his anger and his hate to control everyone around him.

Freddie was feared by some of the hardest men in their world, Freddie was feared as a head case, a nut nut, a Looney Tunes. Freddie had made a point of ensuring his reputation guaranteed him respect, but Jimmy was not scared of him. He hadn't been for a long time, he had seen through him like a pane of glass.

Freddie was just stupid, he barrelled through life and he had been given a pass because he was useful to Ozzy. But Jimmy had Ozzy's respect, it was him, James Jackson, who was trusted, who had been chosen to run the different businesses and who was now party to Ozzy's deepest and darkest secrets.

Jimmy had kept Freddie sweet because they were kin, their wives were sisters, he had once looked up to Freddie, he had once been his role model. But he had carried him long enough, Freddie was out, and he was out for good. After today, Freddie was going to get his marching orders and he was not going to give him any kind of warning.

Freddie was about to find out just how much power his younger counterpart actually wielded. Jimmy was determined to bring him to book over his little son's murder. He was not going to let him walk away from this one. By the time he had finished with him, Freddie wouldn't be able to get a job as a doorman, let alone anything else.

Jimmy wanted to wipe him and his boy off the face of the earth. The absolute need for revenge was something he had never experienced until now. It had started with his little Jimmy's death and it had taken him over when the coroner had ruled it an accident.

Knowing Joe had his suspicions made it all slightly more bearable. It wasn't an accident that had taken his child from him, and he knew that when this was all over and the pain had subsided enough for him to function once more, he would make sure that Freddie Jackson Junior would never harm anybody again.

Kimberley was watching her sisters as they chatted together, and feeling left out. She picked up her orange juice and walked out to the garden. It was a cold day but she was well wrapped up.

She loved this place, and she felt the hole that Jimmy Junior had left behind. It was unbelievable that he would not run up the lawn again, or swim in the pool.

She was on the verge of tears once more. He had been a lovely little boy, and Maggie and Jimmy had doted on him. He had everything a child could possibly want and he was dead. It was beyond belief.

Now the crashing silence of a house without a child's presence was overwhelming. It was this that had really driven her out into the garden and towards the summerhouse. It was constructed from old yellow stock bricks that had been reclaimed from one of the other outbuildings, and the windows had been hand-made to ensure it was in keeping with the rest of the house.

She was about to slip through the door when she heard Maggie's voice. Instead of going inside, she stood outside the window and listened.

'I am not going anywhere, Maggie.'

The bully was back in control, and Maggie knew that he was never going to let her be, never going to let her forget what had happened to her. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope that when she opened them again Freddie would have disappeared.

'Go away from me.'

Her voice was low, and he could hear the underlying anger that was bubbling away below the surface of her mind.

'Why don't you just answer me, Maggie?'

Maggie shut her eyes once more, and she listened to the man who had stolen years of her life, stolen her son's early years from her, because of his threats and his hatred and his jealousy. He was still trying to manipulate her, even now. He was still using his hatred to make her miserable, was trying to force his will on her even after today's event. If it wasn't so outrageous it would be laughable.

Maggie had no intention of answering him, she just wanted him to go away. He had followed her out here when she had wanted to be alone, had just wanted to gather her thoughts together.

'He was my son. Admit it. Go on, admit that to me now.'

He was being hurtful now. He wanted her to finally admit that it was his child, to say it to him and Maggie's contempt for him was wiping away his sympathy.

'Will you go away.'

Her voice had regained some of its strength, and was much louder than she had meant it to be.

'Maggie, say it.'

She interrupted him then. 'Oh, fuck off, Freddie. You raped me, and now, even on the day of my child's burial, you have to try and make my life miserable. Will you leave me alone now he's dead? Can I breathe easy now because the thing you held over my head for all those years has been buried, and you have no power any more. Is this your last attempt at breaking me?'

He was shaking his head at her now.

'Go away, Freddie, before I scream for my husband and tell him what you did to me.'

Kimberley heard a scuffling noise, and she quickly walked behind the summerhouse. After a few seconds she poked her head around the corner, and saw Maggie stumbling over the lawn as she tried to make her way back to the house. Her father was still in the summerhouse, and when he finally emerged about fifteen minutes later she was amazed to see that he was crying.

Jackie was listening to her mother and father talking about when they had been young. This was always the way when they were at funerals or weddings. Any family gathering ended up with her parents telling them all tales of times long past and the things that had happened to long-dead relatives.

She lapped it up. It was so comfortable in Maggie's lovely front room with its deep soft sofas and cream-coloured walls. The girls were ensconced on the largest of the three sofas with her, and she was actually enjoying the evening so much she had forgotten they were all there for a funeral.

Lena was telling the girls about her own grandmother now, how she smoked a pipe and never missed Mass, how her grandfather had battered her nearly every day, and how she had followed him only weeks after his death.

'Silly cow, how could she love someone who gave her a clump on a daily basis? When he finally popped off she should have had a bleeding party!' Rox's voice was annoyed, and they all smiled at her.

Freddie, who was now sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, laughed out loud.

Jimmy was sitting opposite him and he stared at him for long moments as Freddie laughed, that irritating, sarcastic laugh he had.

Seeing Jimmy looking at him, Freddie said in a friendly way, 'By the way, don't worry, Jimmy, I will sort out the takes tomorrow.'

Jimmy knew this was meant to be his chance to take the olive branch, to try to resolve their differences.

He had to be joking.

This was the day of his baby boy's funeral and he was only letting Freddie and his kin inside his home because of Maggie, because Maggie was finding some kind of peace having the girls around. She was sitting with her mother now, holding her hand tightly, and he knew she was looking for comfort and that, like himself, she would not find it.

'Don't bother, it's already sorted.'

Joe heard the exchange and saw the look on Jimmy's face. His sudden angry countenance seemed almost demonic.

He was looking at Freddie with such contempt Joe expected his burly son-in-law to take umbrage, to leap up from the floor and confront Jimmy.

Instead he sat there and took it. But Joe guessed that soon these two men were going to collide, and he knew who his money would be on as the victor.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

'I want him out, Oz, and I want him out sooner rather than later.'

Ozzy nodded, forgetting that Jimmy couldn't see him since they were on the phone. As always, Ozzy liked his young protégé's straight talking and he was pleased that Freddie was being aimed out at last. Personally, he would have seen the back of him years ago.

Since the boy had died he had felt a marked change in Jimmy. He was harder, and he was also easier to nark. This was to be expected, he supposed.

When the news had been broadcast to the wing that poor Jimmy Jackson had lost his son in tragic circumstances, Ozzy had seen the reaction of the men who had children, especially the ones with young families. He had understood Jimmy's grief much better then. Never having had a child himself, he could only imagine what it felt like to lose one.

Jimmy, like many a man before him, was focusing on his work to get through this terrible time. Everything in life was geared around it. It was working in Jimmy's favour, anyway, helped him escape all this grief. Ozzy had watched men in prison dissolve after an event like that.

Maggie, he understood, was not coping with it at all, and he also guessed that Jimmy couldn't even scratch the surface of her grief. How could he? Women were a different species and as they were the ones who grew the children inside them anyway, he assumed they felt the loss far more than the fathers. Though the newspapers and the TV news told him, some women had no feelings for their offspring, and he knew Maggie had not taken to the child at first.

Ozzy sighed inwardly. He was distressed for Jimmy, felt for him, but Ozzy could still see the personal opportunity that his grief was affording him. He was going to overhaul the businesses and he was starting off by getting rid of the dead wood.

'You do it, Jimmy, you have a good old clear out, son. It's long overdue anyway.'

'All right, son?' Freddie slowed the car down to the annoyance of the drivers behind him, and he waved at his son through the open window.

Little Freddie smiled and waved back, and his father tooted the horn of his car as he drove past him and the two friends he was walking to school with.

Freddie smiled. He was all right, there was nothing wrong with that boy. He was highly strung like his old man, that was all. It was temper, and he also had a temper, as those who crossed him found out to their detriment. Well, his boy had inherited it from him, so he couldn't be all bad.

His sorrow and shock had completely gone and Jimmy was the new focus of his attention. Jimmy was the bad bastard, and Jimmy had better watch out.

Freddie was weaving in and out of the early-morning traffic and he was cursing and gesturing to all the other, less-capable drivers who had the audacity to be on the road. He was driving to Jimmy's suite of new offices in a purpose-built block in Barking. Jimmy was working from there exclusively now, and they really looked the part.

Freddie was disgusted about them, seeing the use of them as a front as a mug's game, and he told anyone who would listen to him that Jimmy was heading for a fall. Filth raided premises as it was – their homes, their safe houses. Why put yourself in the frame by advertising your existence?

But Jimmy was running legitimate businesses from there, and the other stuff was only ever discussed in the place. Nothing tangible could ever link any of the employees to anything that was not above board and taxable. Jimmy was moving with the times while Freddie was still stuck in a time warp.

Freddie was fuming because he had not heard from Jimmy for a week, and then he'd got a message telling him to come to his office. Well, he was on his way, and he was going to sort it out once and for all. This showdown had been a long time coming. He was more than ready for it, and he was prepared to go to any lengths to see that it happened.

'Maggie's bad, Mum. I am really worried about her.'

Rox was sitting on her mother's bed and trying to get her to drink some tea and eat a piece of toast. The girls took it in turns now to force Jackie to get out of bed and to eat. They were worried about her and her escalating drinking problem.

'She'll be all right, now will you piss off, Rox, and let me sleep!'

Rox sighed. 'Imagine it was one of us, Mum, who had died. How would you feel?'

'At this moment, Rox, I would be over the moon. Now will you sod off and leave me be.'

Kimberley, who was on the landing, listened to her mother and wondered at a woman who had no real feeling for her sister's grief.

Rox tried again. 'Will you sit up, Mum, please, and eat this toast we've made you?'

Jackie was getting really annoyed now. This was becoming a regular thing and at first she had loved it. The attention and the knowledge her girls were looking out for her had been lovely. Now it was getting a bit over the fucking top. They were here every day like a gaggle of bloody witches, and all she wanted to do was have a kip.

Kimberley walked into the bedroom and, pushing Rox out of the way, she grabbed the quilt and dragged it off her half-naked mother.

Jackie went ballistic. She sat up in the bed and screamed in anger, 'What the fuck is it with you lot? Why can't you just leave me alone!'

Rox was trying not to laugh, but then she looked at her mother properly and saw the way she had bloated out again over the last few months and any thought of laughing vanished.

Jackie's legs were a mass of bruises and scratches, because her kidneys were gradually breaking down and causing an itchy rash. Rox and her sisters knew this because they had looked it up on the internet. They knew what was happening to Jackie and they wanted to try to help her help herself, before it was too late. Their mother was a textbook case for a female alcoholic and they wanted to stop her from drinking herself to death.

Rox looked around the bedroom. It was filthy The bedding was rotten, the carpet was a mass of cigarette burns and coffee stains, and the whole room stank of sweat and stale perfume. But the saddest thing of all was that it didn't look half as dilapidated as the woman sitting up on the bed amidst all the squalor.

Jackie had pulled the quilt back over her, but any thought of sleep was long gone, and her anger was being expressed as vindictive personal insults.

She lit a cigarette and said loudly and sarcastically, 'So what is this about, then?'

She spoke in a high, sing-song voice, the utter contempt for her children's do-gooding evident. 'Rox is having a baby, so now she is a fucking fountain of wisdom. Well, you know fuck all, Rox, you never have.'

'She knows more than you ever will, Mother.'

Jackie smiled as she looked at Kimberley 'Oh, now me junkie daughter is giving me the benefit of her experience as well, is she? Well, shove it. Go and have a fix, Kim, at least you were smiling on the skag.'

Rox walked to the door. She had heard enough.

Kimberley said quietly, 'Look at yourself, Mum, and your life. It stinks, you stink and you drink yourself stupid so you don't have to accept that. But you do, you have to try and stop destroying yourself and everyone around you.'

Jackie laughed nastily, and pushing her hair back off her face she hollered, 'At least I have a life, what have you got, eh? No man, no nothing. Who'd fucking want you, Kim, with your miserable fucking boatrace? You tell me that.'

'Listen to yourself, Mum, I don't need a man to make me feel like a valid person…'

Jackie was laughing again. 'Kimberley, go and score, go and get pissed, jack up, snort, I don't give a fuck. Just get out of my fucking face!'

Rox and Kimberley looked at her, and the expression on their faces told Jackie all she needed to know about herself.

Kim spoke up, the disgust evident in her voice. 'You ain't got a man, Mum, you ain't even got Dad. You know what? He loathes you. He is out and about all the time…'

Rox was trying to make her sister leave the room, trying to prevent the blow-up she knew was about to erupt. 'Leave her, Kim, we're wasting our time…'

Jackie laughed again.

'"Leave her, Kim,"' she mimicked her daughter's voice. 'Go round Maggie's, she loves all this shit. You get it from her, the lot of you… another fucking drama queen. That poor child, she wouldn't give it the fucking time of day for years. Neglected him-'

Kimberley laughed with utter contempt. 'You, to talk about neglect! You've got some nerve, Mother. Little Freddie's arse was always red raw because you couldn't be bothered to change him, he never ate a decent meal unless we provided one, and you talk about neglect!'

Jackie knew this was true, which just annoyed her more.

'I was always there for him, and whatever I am or I ain't, I've never not loved him! Maggie had it all, the house, the car, even the fucking dog! But no baby, and when she got one, finally got one, she didn't even know what to do with it! She is only off her trolley now because she fucking well knows she had no time for that little boy. She's feeling guilty, and so she should be after all those years of neglect.'

Jackie was shouting now. 'Even your father had more time for him than she did, and she couldn't stand him even touching the child! I used to watch her when he played with the poor little sod, her face screwed up, like we was all nothing. She hated him near the boy, yet she didn't fucking lay one finger on him herself unless she had to, did she? That poor child was neglected, and even my mother said it. My Freddie loved that boy and she wouldn't even let the poor child have the benefit of him making a fuss of the poor little fucker, let alone anyone else!'

'And just why do you think that might have been then, Mum, eh? You know so much, why do you think she hated him touching him, then?'

Rox could hear the inflection in her sister's voice and knew that something was going to be said that was going to cause trouble, big trouble, serious trouble.

'Shut up, Kim. Come on, let's go.'

Jackie leaped up on the bed, she wanted to hear this. 'You keep out of it, Rox. Come on, then, what are you getting at, Kim? Fucking spit it out. He loved that little boy, he doted on him, and thanks to him at least the child had a few good memories to take with him-'

'It was his child, you stupid bloody cow!'

Jackie was stunned and wondered, briefly, if she was hearing things.

'What did you say?'

'He raped her. Dad raped Maggie!'

Maggie was sick inside, and the pain she felt could not be relieved with the tablets her mother was forever trying to get her to take.

'Please, Mum, leave me, go home, I just want to be on my own.'

The strange thing was she was fine on her own, but no one believed her. Alone, she could gather her thoughts, pretend that things were OK, all right. She could relax, try to rest. She could forget what had happened.

Forget how her son had been conceived, remember him as the little boy he was, the son she loved. She would let Freddie Jackson rape her every day if it would bring her son back to her. He was a child of rape, he had been brought on to this earth because of an action that was so heinous, so evil, and yet she had learned to love him. He had been the innocent party, he had been the catalyst for her life being destroyed, and then he had been the catalyst that had given her life meaning, and given her marriage the kick-start it had needed to survive. Jimmy had loved him and that had allowed her to love him as well.

Now, her own company was preferable to anyone else's. Her own company afforded her the luxury of pretending he was still alive, that her son was still near her. Alone, her life could be what she wanted it to be, instead of what it was.

Alone was now a good thing.

Lena was at the end of her tether. Nothing she did seemed to make any difference. Maggie was determined to be alone and she knew that she couldn't get through to her, knew she was wasting her time.

But the guilt she carried around with her was weighing her down, and she needed to make her daughter better, needed her to need her.

If only they had looked in on him properly that night, checked him, protected him, he would still be alive.

Lena would never know another happy day, so how could she expect her daughter to? Her Maggie was dying inside. It was not something that you could look at her and see, instead it was more subtle. Maggie's eyes were sadder by the day, she looked at you and the bleakness was terrifying because somewhere inside you knew she was right. Her hurt and pain were right, the only option left to her daughter.

Without it, she felt nothing.

'You sure about this, Jimmy?' Glenford's voice was sceptical. He knew the Jacksons fought between themselves, but this anger from Jimmy was out of the ordinary, and unusual.

'As sure as I'll ever be, Glen. He is out and that's the end of it.'

Glenford was nonplussed for a few moments. 'There'll be murders and you know it. You can't row Freddie out, that would be outrageous! He will want to kill you, he will go mentalist.'

Glenford said it all in thick Jamaican, but he meant every word.

Jimmy grinned. 'Let him bring it on, as much fucking hag as he likes. Like I give a fuck.'

Glenford was surprised, but not that surprised. This had been a long time coming, he had just not expected it now, and not in such a voracious way. Freddie must have fucked up with honours this time, and caused untold aggravation to cause this upset. Freddie, in all honesty, must have been picking the pockets of the damned to get Jimmy this fucking aerated.

Jimmy was the good guy, Jimmy always looked for the best in people, looked for the easiest way out of things, tried to keep the peace, tried to make it all better.

Not any more by the looks of things.

Glenford had to question, though, the logic of aiming him out now. Freddie collected quickly, without arguments. He gave people ten hours and they never failed to deliver, they always paid up on time. He did the job, he talked the talk and he earned for them. He might not be the greatest mind they had on the payroll but he knew how to frighten money out of the biggest wankers in recorded history.

Freddie was a nutcase and people like Freddie were worth keeping around if for no other reason than that.

'You can't aim him out, Jimmy, think about it. He'll never rest if you do that. He'll go fucking mental. Who would employ him other than you? All he has is you.' Glenford was trying, in his own way, to warn Jimmy about reckless actions. 'Freddie Jackson is far more useful to you if he is in your good books. Use him as a heavy, let him have his moment, let him have his creds, but don't put him out altogether. He'll never live that down, he'll never get over it.'

He was actually wary of anything happening, because he knew Freddie spent his life on the edge. Looking for trouble was his forte, it was what Freddie did for kicks. Freddie would love an excuse to widen his circle of hatred.

'But that is just what I want, Glenford. I don't want him to get over it, I want him to know how I feel. I am going to finish him once and for all, I am going to wipe his fucking name off my pension plan, he is history. He is out of everything he ever wanted, everything he has always felt he was entitled to. Freddie is over and the sooner he realises that the better off he will be. I have carried that cunt from day one, and now he can start earning for himself, earn a fucking living like all of us.'

Glenford snorted in derision and annoyance. 'This goes deeper than that, Jimmy, this is far too personal. What the fuck has he done, fucked your wife?'

Jimmy didn't answer, and Glenford wondered what the upshot of this day was going to be. Life was a series of unavoidable events – until now he had not understood what his father meant by that. But he had known what the score was all his life.

His father was a handsome Jamaican called Wendell Prentiss, who had travelled over to Britain in the fifties with nothing but a Rasta hat and a sense of humour. He had a posse of outside children, from a gaggle of different white women, but his legal wife had unfortunately only ever produced one son, Glenford. Wendell had always argued with him, saying that you had only one life, and it was up to you, what you did with it.

Of course, Wendell would say, in his thick Jamaican accent and with a grin, there would always be the unexpected, you needed to allow for them kind of thing, mentally and monetarily, that would cost you dearly. Deaths, births, and more often than not, a serious prison sentence for the majority of Jamaican boys, because the British police don't like us one bit as a race, there too many of us now. Always remember, son, he had said with all the dignity he could muster, while drinking white rum and banging his dominos on the kitchen table, those things cost money, time, and the serious use of brain power. But other than that, he would say on a laugh, your life was your own, to waste or make the best of.

Jebb Avenue in Brixton, Wendell would say, his deep voice making his words as dramatic as possible, could be the marketplace you visit for a sheepskin coat in the darkest days of winter, or where you could end up queuing to visit your friends or family. Funky Brixton, as the prison there was called, was the place where white boys had eventually become the niggers.

Glenford had laughed with his father when he had philosophised about those things, yet he knew he had actually been stating facts.

Wendell had died ten years ago, still believing he was a prince, a walking flag of Ethiopia, and still smoking the weed that had actually prevented him from fulfilling his dreams. He had always been too stoned to do anything constructive.

'Life is what you make it,' he would say on a daily basis, loudly and seriously. 'You have a blank piece of paper, Glenford, and what you eventually write on it is of your own doing. Good or bad, you have to decide for yourself.'

Glenford had adhered to his father's teachings all his life, and they had kept him in good stead. His father had taught him that sometimes you had to hurt people, be cruel to be kind, but Jimmy Jackson, he was a different kettle of fish. He had always tried to make other people's lives easier, and the responsibility had weighed on him from day one.

Glenford had few real friends. Like his father before him, he was fussy about who called him by that name, to him friends were people you trusted as much as your family. In this case more than your family. Jimmy was a real friend. Freddie, on the other hand, was just treated like one. It was a subtle difference, but there all the same.

But to Jimmy, Freddie Jackson, was family, and in their world family, no matter how big a cunt they were, got a wage. That went without saying, but they were supposed to be grateful. They were supposed to understand their fucking good luck that someone close to them had the nous to earn a crust, a crust they were willing to share out.

Now Jimmy was threatening to remove that wage, was going to drop Freddie like a stone. It was Jimmy's call, and Freddie was one dangerous fuck, after all, but Glenford knew that in one way Freddie had a point and was within his rights to believe he was owed a job.

He also knew, by the way Jimmy was talking, that Freddie had irrevocably fucked up any relationship they had ever enjoyed, and Jimmy, whatever Freddie might think, was the better man in more ways than one.

The Jacksons had fought before and nothing had come of it. They had been the talk of the town, especially after Stephanie's death. Best-kept secret in London that was. But Jimmy had always accepted Freddie back into the fold. He still could, and Glenford hoped that would be the case.

He hated Freddie, but he knew they were better off with him in front of them, acting as a friend, than away from them, out of their orbit, and, knowing Freddie, planning their demise.

Glenford knew that Jimmy must have his reasons for what he was determined to do, but Freddie was going to go what was commonly referred to as ape shit.

Roxanna felt sick and she wasn't sure if it was the baby she was carrying, or her sister's revelation. Even her father could not be capable of something like that, of raping Maggie. It couldn't be true.

Maggie was strong, she would have fought him surely, stopped him, and she would have screamed it from the rooftops.

Wouldn't she?

But somehow Rox knew that Jackie would have made any kind of accusation impossible for Maggie, and she also felt certain that Maggie would have kept it quiet for their sakes as much as for her mother and Jimmy. Jimmy could never have been told something like that. Maggie was sensible enough to know that her Jimmy would be capable of murder if he had even suspected that something like that had occurred.

Kimberley must be wrong, must have got the wrong end of the stick. And if her dad had raped Maggie, did that mean Jimmy Junior had been his child, as Kim had insinuated? Was he her brother? One sexual act, and they had produced a child – it was too off the wall. She knew she had other half-brothers and sisters, she had heard the gossip over the years, but she had never felt the urge to see any of them. Why would she want to?

Jimmy Junior could not have been her father's child. It could not be true, it was an absolutely outrageous suggestion. Maggie wouldn't have let that happen to her, she would not have let him near her, no way, it was not feasible.

Not her aunt Maggie, the person who had been like a surrogate mother all their lives, who had always been there for them, and who was still their shelter when their lives got too stormy for them. When this excuse for a mother got pissed and caused fights at Christmas and New Year, they had gone to Maggie because she sorted things out.

Had he raped her? Was her father really that bad, capable of such an act?

The worst thing of all was, deep inside her, she knew it was true.

Kimberley had spoken the truth, and even her mother, her dad's biggest fan, his only alibi, and also the only person on the planet who actually really cared what happened to him, knew it. It was almost as if Jackie had been expecting to hear it, or something like it, at some point in her life. She had looked almost as if she was being told something she had always known, had looked almost smug because she had finally found out the truth, finally had an understanding of something that had been bugging her.

But Rox just couldn't let herself believe it, didn't want to believe it. She just didn't want to deal with it. Didn't want to look at her aunt Maggie, who she loved, and know that her father had intruded so violently into her life.

Jackie Jackson, however, had finally found the last piece of a puzzle she had been trying to solve for many years. When Freddie had made a fuss of Jimmy Junior she had known in her heart that something was off, that there was something underneath his smiling demeanour, and his grinning face. He had never taken much notice of his own children, and she had always felt a deep jealousy about his treatment of that boy.

'Jimmy Junior', what a fucking pantomime that was. But then the two men looked so alike and the kids all had a look of one another. Her Rox was like a clone of Maggie. Jackie knew that Freddie had always had a penchant for her little sister, but what about Jimmy? What would Jimmy think about it all, especially now the boy was dead? She had to have had an affair, that was all it could be. Maggie had to have things, had always wanted what she had, Freddie included. But raped? Kimberley said it was a rape, that Maggie had said it to Freddie in no uncertain terms when he had tried to make her admit little Jimmy was his child at the funeral. And Jackie knew Freddie was capable of something like that. Was Maggie really raped?

Freddie had a way with women, maybe she had come on to him. He could be so charming when the fancy took him. She remembered how he had gone on about her, Maggie this and Maggie that, nearly driving Jackie out of her mind with jealousy. And look at how pleased Freddie had been when she had been delivered of a son.

Maggie had finally got pregnant, after all that time, and she had been thrilled for her. Pregnant Maggie was not supposed to have been a threat any more, she was supposed to have been out of bounds, and now Kimberley was saying that Maggie's boy, that poor little boy, was her husband's child.

Well, he was dead and gone, thank God. That was all she needed now, a living reminder of Freddie's infidelity, and in her own family this time.

The bastard.

But raped, not a chance, what crap. Freddie had women after him all the time, he didn't have to force anyone. If this was a true story then Maggie had to have been gagging for it.

She was crying rape in case it got back to Jimmy, and he would not listen to reason. Like everyone else, he thought that Maggie was a blinder, a good girl, well, she had shown her true colours now.

She wasn't the first tart Freddie had shagged and she wouldn't be the last, and Jackie had seen off better women than Maggie. But she would play this hand close to her chest, for now. Until Jimmy found out about it, she would keep stumm.

In her heart she didn't want this out in the open. Maggie was too close to home, and far too lovely for Jackie Jackson to allow herself to ever be compared with her. She knew that the majority of people would not blame Freddie for straying with her younger, more beautiful sister.

She could hear him brag that he had married the wrong sister, that he should have waited a few years until Maggie was old enough. He had said those words to her in this very room many times.

Kimberley listened to her mother as she went on and on about Maggie always wanting what she had, Maggie always taking whatever she wanted, being the favourite child, and instead of anger, she felt a deep and abiding pity for the woman who had borne her.

Jackie had already blamed poor Mags for what had happened, and her father was as always the innocent party. Maggie had lured him into her bed to get back at her. Jackie was actually believing her own lies now.

Kimberley now knew that when she had opened her big mouth, she had started something that would haunt them all down the years.

Her father was the innocent in all this, her mother had tried and already condemned poor Maggie, and the only thing her stupid revelation had achieved was more hurt and more unhappiness for her lovely aunt. As if she didn't have enough to contend with.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jimmy was nervous, not frightened, but he was nervous, because he knew Freddie was not going to accept his expulsion from the business with easy grace.

Freddie had been given a message to come and see him, and he was psyched up and ready for him. Freddie was a wild card. He had seen some of the stunts he had pulled over the years on people he had seen as doing him down, or, as was more often the case, because he had no further use for them.

He would take this personally because of the blood tie and also because he saw Jimmy as taking what he saw as his by rights. Jimmy was in effect banishing him from what had always been his world, and he was not wavering at all. In fact, he was going to relish telling him.

Jimmy had given him opportunity after opportunity to redeem himself and Freddie, being Freddie, had thrown them all back in his face. Now he was going to find out that he was on the lowest rung of the ladder that denoted their particular food chain, and he was the one calling the shots, not Freddie.

Jimmy had swallowed his knob over the years but that mad bastard he had reared was the final straw. He couldn't tell Maggie what had happened, and he couldn't ever let on to anyone else, but Freddie had known what was expected of him and he had not kept his end of the bargain, so he was out.

Not just out of the business but out of his world completely. He did not want to clap eyes on him ever again. If that meant he had to remove him from the face of the earth, then so be it. Jimmy only wished that he had made a point of taking him out sooner.

How Freddie coped with it was up to him, but anyone who employed him would not be able to deal with Jimmy or his workforce ever again, he would make that known everywhere.

Freddie was going to be a pariah and no one except the two of them would know why, and Freddie would understand that he was not going to let him walk away from his problems any more.

He should have done this when Freddie had done Lenny, but he had given him another pass. Well, he was all out of family loyalty now, so fuck him and fuck his poxy kid. Freddie Junior was his father's son all right, another mad cunt had been unleashed on the world. Well, Freddie Jackson had better take the boy as far away from him and his family as he could, because if he ever saw him he would run him down without a second's thought.

It was only Maggie that was stopping him from blowing Freddie and that mad little bastard wide open. Maggie had enough to contend with without knowing what had really happened to her boy, and he would protect her as long as he had breath in his body.

She must never, ever know.

Freddie was finished in their world, and that would be punishment enough for him because he lived and breathed his reputation. Well, let him try and muscle in on Jimmy after he had delivered the bad news, and Freddie Jackson would find out exactly what he was dealing with.

He couldn't wait for that to happen. He was shaking with anticipation, and he was high with adrenaline. Freddie had the shock of his life coming to him, and Jimmy was getting impatient with the waiting game he had been forced to play because he had not wanted to hurt anyone's feelings.

Family loyalty was a load of old cods. Who in their right mind wanted to be related to those two-faced lying ponces anyway? He had carried them for years, lent them money, sorted out their problems. He was like the Bank of Jimmy.

Well, not any more. Let them stew in their own juices and let them go to their so-called friends in the future.

They were takers, professional takers and they had taken the thing he held most dear to him, and for that alone, he would never forgive, or, more importantly, forget.

This was for his Jimmy, for his own peace of mind. Like Freddie Jackson before him he now held a grudge and that grudge would see him through the dark days ahead.

Jackie was looking at her eldest child but she was not seeing her. She was seeing what she had ignored over the years. Even when she was a young girl Freddie had coveted her sister. He had watched her, and he had wanted her, thought about her, desired her.

These thoughts were not registering on her face. As Kimberley looked at her mother she knew that she was in a state of shock.

Roxanna was also shocked, in fact she'd been almost at fainting point since Jackie had insisted that Maggie must have seduced her father. 'You can't believe what you are saying, Mum. Like Maggie would want him anywhere near her.' The inference being that no woman in her right mind would want her husband, this girl's own father.

Jackie's head snapped towards this beautiful daughter who at this moment she could happily strangle. The truth was screaming inside her skull, but being the personality type she was, she could never admit out loud that Freddie wanted her sister, even though she knew it was the truth. Freddie wanted anyone who came near him and was in the least bit shaggable.

Jackie had laughed about it over the years, she had been forced to. It was how she had saved face. Especially when she had found out about him with her friends, with her neighbours, when she had seen young girls looking at her in the pub, and finding her lacking. She had endured knowing that they had intimate knowledge of her man, and that some of them had produced children for him.

She had accepted so much because she could not in any way envisage her life without him somewhere in the background, no matter what he did or how he treated her. And in his own way he had stood by her. She was the only woman he had ever stood by, even though it was in a callous and often degrading way.

Jackie was going to be Freddie Jackson's wife until the day she died. It afforded her the only kudos she had ever experienced, and it also guaranteed her a level of protection that enabled her to drink and drug with impunity.

Since the turnout with Terry Baker, her confidence, which had never been in abundance, was at rock bottom. Another humiliation was more than she would be able to endure. Freddie was everything to her, he made her a valid person. From the first moment she had been with him, she had felt like she was somebody, and she was, she was Freddie Jackson's bird, his woman, eventually his wife.

The money was only a small part of it all. She loved him with every fibre of her being, and if Maggie thought she was going to change that she would find out how wrong she could be.

He had lived his life hunting out strange and she had accepted everything, but she could not in all conscience accept this.

She knew this ought to be kept quiet, she actually wanted it kept quiet because the thought of anyone knowing made her feel almost suicidal. But she also knew she could not keep this to herself. A few drinks and it would be blurted out in temper, or worse, she would throw it at Freddie and he would turn it back at her, making a terrible situation even worse.

She needed to strike first, make this common knowledge, cause trouble for Maggie. Jackie knew better than anyone how to play the wronged wife – she had had enough practice over the years after all.

Maggie, dead child or no dead child, had betrayed her. Rape be buggered, the truth would be out there in seconds. Her mind was made up.

Freddie had decided to make a short detour on his way to Jimmy's office. He pulled up to the pub, and after standing for a few moments, as if surveying his realm, he decided that Jimmy Jackson could come to him, so he sauntered inside and ordered a large Scotch.

Paul and Liselle were pleased to see him, at least as pleased as anyone who knew him could be. Paul refilled his drink as soon as it was empty and the two men smiled at each other. He could feel the usual animosity off Freddie, but today there was a new feeling, an undercurrent of menace that was not usually so evident.

'You heard anything from Ozzy?'

Paul shrugged as he always did when asked that question. 'A few lines, that's all. He doesn't confide in me, Freddie, you know that.'

This was said in a flat monotone voice, a voice that brooked no more questions and told the enquirer he was keeping his own counsel but also that he knew far more than he was letting on.

He knew it irritated Freddie, even though he never expected a different answer. Today, though, there was an added annoyance that caused Paul to keep close to the shotgun he always kept underneath the bar. It was a weapon that was there mainly for the threat factor, but he would use it if necessary.

'And you ain't got no new fucking messages for me from Jimmy, then? After all, Paul, you are normally far more aware of what's going on than I am, ain't you? Jimmy, the cunt, tells you much more than he tells me.'

This was said so as to cause the maximum aggro, but Paul smiled carefully before saying quietly, 'No one's told me anything about you, or given me any messages, but if I hear anything you'll be the first to know, OK?'

He was watching Freddie while making sure his hand hovered over the shotgun.

Freddie had been gearing himself up for a while now, and Paul guessed, rightly, that it was all about his discontent. Freddie was being mugged off big time, everyone had noticed that, but that was not Paul's problem, that was Freddie Jackson's. Freddie was like a fucking big wet balloon, and he was due to burst soon.

Even the little boy's death had not softened the edges. In fact, since then Freddie seemed to be even worse, if that was possible.

Poor Jimmy had taken it badly, but that was to be expected. He had lost a child, an only child, a loved and wanted child, but it was Freddie whom the knowledge had seemed to age. As Paul watched him drinking now, so early in the day and so heavily, even though he knew he would insist on driving, he wondered what the added aggravation was this time.

As far as Paul knew, he was still pissing about on the take, and Freddie, being Freddie, that was all he would ever be doing. He never kept anything up for any length of time and he had ideas that were good and which he talked about for days but never came to fruition.

He had seen Freddie looking for a fight before and he was suddenly glad that he was not the recipient of Freddie's obvious anger and resentment. But that could change, he knew. Freddie Jackson could turn on a coin, and that meant no one was ever really safe from him until he had left the building.

Glenford and Jimmy had lunched at the Ship and Shovel on sandwiches and a few beers, the mainstay of men in their line of work.

They were both aware of the unspoken agreement between them, Glenford was going nowhere, he was sticking it out for the duration. Jimmy was more than aware of what he was taking on but Glenford knew he had a far more intelligent outlook on the situation. Unlike Jimmy he wasn't that close to the enemy.

Jimmy, for all his hardness, was liable to relent and give Freddie, as usual, the benefit of the doubt. Freddie, however, was never going to let this affront go without a serious fight, and Freddie fought well, it was all he had ever been good at. Glenford was frightened that this friend of his was making the mistake all great men eventually made – they underestimated their enemy, or, even worse, they assumed their enemy possessed qualities that they themselves had. Were far more decent people than they actually were.

Jimmy Jackson had always played the white man, while Freddie had always talked one way and acted another. It was the very nature of the beast he was. Freddie Jackson did not have a decent bone in his large and overly strong body. Of that much, at least, Glenford was sure. He also knew that Jimmy Jackson was not intending to go back on his decision. His worry, if he was honest, was that Jimmy might relent at the last moment and leave himself wide open to attack.

'Mum, for fuck's sake…' Kimberley had just realised what she had actually caused and the knowledge was frightening her now.

Jackie was getting dressed and any thought of sleep was long gone. This was now a woman on a mission, a dangerous mission that entailed murdering her sister in cold blood if necessary.

'Stop it, Mum, and listen to me. I heard them at Jimmy Junior's funeral, Dad was baiting her even then, he was being hateful to her even though she had just buried her child-'

'Oh my heart's bleeding for her, the cunt, and don't you mean their child?'

'Mum, Maggie would never hurt you, not intentionally. Why do you think she kept it quiet all these years?'

'If you were shagging my old man wouldn't you keep it quiet? Jimmy might not be too thrilled when he hears either, love, has that occurred to you yet? All my life she has wanted what I have, she had been jealous of me since day one! I had what she wanted!'

Kim laughed now. 'You can't seriously mean me father, can you? Maggie wanting him, are you off your fucking trolley, Mother? And even if she had, Maggie wouldn't do that to you, she loves you even though you treat her like shit.'

Jackie sighed and then said in a friendly yet sinister way, 'She is dead, Kimmy, get that through your thick fucking head. She fucked my old man, she had a baby with my old man – your words not mine, Kim – and if you think I am listening to all that old fanny about rape you can get stuffed. I will take her fucking head off her shoulders, and yours with it if you interfere any more.'

Kimberley was absolutely terrified now. 'Stop this, Mum, and think about it. Why would she be telling him to leave her alone, eh? Why would she have fucked him off out of it?'

Jackie sighed heavily. Her daughter was just what she needed to start off her campaign of hate. No one was accusing her husband of rape. He was a fucking babe, and Maggie had wanted him because he was hers and she was jealous. In Jackie's mind everyone she fell out with, or had a grudge against, was jealous of her. In her mind she was really something else. Her home was a cause of jealousy, her husband, their lifestyle. It never occurred to Jackie that it was her own vindictive jealousy that caused most of her problems.

To her now, Freddie had been duped, had been led up the garden path by a femme fatale who had been a virgin till Jimmy and who she knew would not have given Freddie Jackson house room if the four-minute warning had just sounded. And they had produced a child – well, for once Maggie could hurt like she had hurt as she watched her little sister make a success of her life, watched her go on to bigger and better things!

Jackie was the eldest, it should have been her who had the salons and the big houses, not Maggie, not little Maggie who she had always used as and when it had suited her and who had suddenly, overnight, become the rich bitch of the family.

How dare she think that she could get one over on her?

Freddie had joked that Jimmy was a Jaffa, and maybe he was right. No other kids had arrived and she knew it wasn't for want of trying. Maggie was desperate for another one, had been since the birth of little Jimmy Junior. She went on about it enough.

Jackie had, it seemed, cried over her husband's bastard, and she would not let that go lightly. Baby be damned, little Jimmy had been her husband's child. He had taken more notice of that boy than he had of any of his own, and she would not forgive that bastard Maggie for that. It was the ultimate betrayal as far as she was concerned. No wonder she had not wanted the poor little flicker, guilt did that to a body, and even her own mother had called her unnatural over her treatment of him.

'Please, Mum, think about what you are doing. He raped Maggie, raped her. Jimmy will kill him, Jimmy will believe her… Like I do, and other people will.'

The truth of these words didn't escape Jackie but she fronted it out as always. 'Oh, Kimmy, what's the matter, eh? You want me to score a few pills for you, calm you down, like? Or maybe you want me to take back my fucking fist and wipe that pathetic look off your face once and for all? She is a fucking husband-stealing whore and she is me own sister, me own fucking sister. Well, she's dead, as are you dead if you get in me way.'

She grinned as she dragged her clothes on to her cumbersome body. 'Come on, sweetheart, it's your call.'

Roxanna was watching the scene before her and she still had a feeling of terrible doom on her. It was like the first few days before her period, when everything had a weird aftertaste, when she could make 'Good morning' sound like a declaration of war.

She knew that if what Kimberley said was true then Maggie had been raped by her father. There was no other way that it could have happened. Maggie would sooner bed down with the local tramp than Freddie Jackson, and she couldn't blame her. If the boot was on the other foot she would have felt exactly the same. But how was this going to affect her? Her and her Dicky boy? What would happen when all this shit hit the big fan that had now metamorphosised into her mother's big trap?

She didn't want Dicky's mother and the rest of his family finding out about anything like this, it was too extreme even for the Jacksons. It was now her reputation she was worried about, but any reasoning with Jackie about this little lot was likely to be about as much use as a handbrake on a fucking canoe.

Kim had opened up a can of worms, and these were evil worms, vindictive worms and they were worms that were in her mother's mouth and would therefore be spewed out sooner than any of them might actually believe.

Jackie was still dressing herself, and as she did so Kimberley was trying to convince her that Maggie, poor Maggie, had been the victim. Rox knew that this was the worst thing her sister could do. If her father took an axe and murdered all the neighbours in front of a film crew from Channel Four, her mother would convince herself that it was not true, or that they had done something so heinous his murdering of them was justified.

Roxanna could cheerfully wring Kim's neck.

She would have to warn poor Maggie and as she wondered about Maggie's reaction to this news getting out, it hit her that Jimmy, her lovely uncle Jimmy, was as big a force as her father was. In fact, she was aware that he was now a bigger, better-connected force. Dicky was enamoured of her uncle Jimmy to the point of adoration.

This was so serious, she knew it would smash the family apart, and she wished that Kimberley had kept her big nose out of it. Like her mother, Rox liked everything on an even keel and if that meant keeping things swept under the carpet, pretending things were OK, then that was what she was prepared to do.

She wanted to cry. Everything was going to be destroyed, and she knew that life would never be the same again for any of them. But it was her loyalties that were really disturbing her, because if she was pushed to choose, her mother and father wouldn't stand a chance.

Paul had answered the phone three times and each time it had been Glenford asking if Freddie was still there, and what condition he was in.

He had said each time. 'Yes and not good.'

He knew something was going down and he was terrified of it happening in front of him and his wife. Liselle had been dispatched off to their flat with a warning that no matter what she heard, she was to keep a low profile.

Freddie was on a roll now, and his handsome face belied the evil that lurked so near to the surface. A girl had arrived an hour earlier, when Freddie had finally been about to depart. The girl was in her twenties with long hair, a crooked smile and a skirt that defied gravity. She was also, to add insult to injury, Liselle's niece, and she had taken one look at Freddie and love had been born.

What was it with women and Freddie Jackson? The worse he treated them the more they seemed to want him. She was all perfume and mint chewing gum, her clothes were New Look mixed with Dot Perkins and the stomach she was baring was not as washboard as she liked to believe.

She was Freddie's cup of char all right, up for it, been about long enough to know the score, but still young enough not to have the hard bitter look that Jackie and her cronies had acquired. Jimmy was gone from his mind now. Freddie was on the pull and in an extravagant and exhilarating way, much to the delight of Melanie Connors.

Melanie was funny, she had the chat, the look and the experienced way of young girls who had been at it from too young an age and still hadn't sussed out that sex was not a bargaining tool for most women.

Her witty ripostes were hilarious, and Freddie was enjoying the arrogance of her youth and her complete confidence in her good looks. But that could all change in seconds if she said something that he considered was disrespectful or downright challenging.

On Melanie's part, Freddie Jackson might be old enough to be her father, but she wasn't worried about that. He was, to her, gorgeous, with his dark hair and blue eyes. He also, she was pleased to note, had a wedge that could hold her mother's front door open in a hurricane, and she knew instinctively that he was hung like a horse. All in all, she was pleased with the way the day had turned out.

Paul, however, was absolutely gutted. He knew that Freddie was on the edge and poor little Melanie had not experienced Freddie with the hump just yet. As she was a relative of his wife's he would have to step in at some point and that was not something he was looking forward to.

At the moment, though, Freddie was like a sniffer dog in a crack house, happy as a sandboy and enjoying the afternoon's events. He hunted strange like other men hunted deer. He was quiet, he was watching her every move and when the time was right he was going to shoot this fucker down. If she was good at her trade she might get a second airing, if not she would be forgotten in the time it takes to find a new one with bigger tits and the pure attraction of unknown territory.

It was the chase he loved, the conquering of the girls. Once that was achieved they were history.

Dianna was in bits as both her sisters shouted simultaneously and with equal anger and annoyance, 'Oh shut up, Di!'

Maggie stared at the three girls she loved with all her being and then she turned to her sister and said quietly, 'Don't be so silly, Jackie. Kimberley heard wrong, that was all.'

Kimberley grabbed the branch she was being offered and hoped that it would stop her drowning in her own guilt. 'That's right, I was not sure what I was going on about, Mum. We were arguing, and I wanted to hurt you, that's all.'

'You fucking lying whore, you fucking junkie slag! You know what happened, I ain't fucking stupid!'

Maggie was under no illusions about how this knowledge was going to be received by the main antagonists, but she was past caring. Nothing could ever hurt her again and she wasn't sure she was even capable of keeping the peace with her sister. If push came to shove she was willing to annihilate her. If that's what it took to shut this slob up, then that was fine by her.

But she forced her voice to sound calm and civil once more. 'Come on, Jackie, have a drink, a coffee or a vodka, you choose.'

Jackie knew she was being offered a face-saver, a chance to stop this madness before it got out of hand, but Maggie's utter calmness was her undoing.

Even though she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this girl, and Maggie still looked like a girl, had been raped she could not for the life of her let that fact seep outside her closest circle.

'You are offering me vodka? Sure you don't want one now your fucking secret's out?'

Maggie looked into her sister's bloated face, remembering when she had been everything to her, had been the mainstay of her life. And she had been, there had been a time when Jackie had been the whole of her world, when she had always included her little sister in everything.

Maggie was more man aware that loneliness had been the real reason then, but it had also been because Maggie had taken on the kids for her.

She had practically brought the girls up, and she had to admit she had enjoyed every second of it, unlike this sorry item in front of her who only saw her kids as a wage each week, people to chain their father to the floor and make him cough up in more ways than one.

Maggie had played with them, bathed them, tidied up for Jackie and listened to her as she had run down everyone within a five-mile range – family especially, mates, and anyone she was jealous of. Since that encompassed everyone in the world she could get very irate. Jackie slaughtered everybody, and she did it in such a way that it was ages before you realised exactly what she was doing.

By the time she had been fourteen Maggie had stopped wanting to be like her, and instead become adamant that her life would be the complete opposite of Jackie's. She would pay her own bills, look after herself if needs be, but she was determined not to become a part of the man she was with like Jackie had.

Jackie's biggest fear was being left without a man, her man, but it was the man she loved so much, who had reduced her to the fat, scruffy wreck she was now. She was living proof that love was not the wonderful emotion young girls thought it was going to be. The man she loved had raped her little sister and yet she still had the power to delude herself, because everything was always about Jackie, never about anyone else.

'Was little Jimmy Freddie's son? I need to know.'

Jackie sounded so self-righteous and so fucking banal all at the same time, it was better than a play as far as Maggie was concerned. This woman had always been an innate coward, and this was being proved to her once again. Jackie only kicked off when she knew that the fight she had caused would be stopped.

Maggie laughed, but it sounded forced and it also made her sound like a woman who had had enough, enough of life, enough of the world and enough of the woman in front of her.

'If you really thought that there was anything remotely true in what you are saying, me and you would be rolling around the floor fighting now, Jack, and you know it.'

'Too fucking right.'

'But we ain't, are we, Jackie?'

The sarcasm was evident and Jackie Jackson had to acknowledge that her little sister was a force in her own right.

'There's still plenty of time for that, lady.' She pointed a grubby finger at her sister as she said loudly and in a voice full of her own self-pity, 'You always had your eye on my fucking Freddie, you always got what you wanted out of life. I was never good enough for Mum and Dad, it was always you! Now, the one thing I have and you fucking think you can take it!'

'What are you on about, Mum? Maggie is the best thing that ever happened to you, or us!' Dianna realised immediately she should have kept this gem of wisdom to herself, and Kimberley pushed Roxanne out of her way as she went to her mother and said angrily, 'I was winding you up, Mum, please listen to me.'

Jackie wanted to take the exit and leave the madness of her world, but she couldn't. This would eat at her now and she knew she had to sort it out today once and for all, no matter what the cost.

'Either go home and sober up, Jackie, or talk to me properly, OK?'

There was a steely quality to her sister's voice that Jackie had never heard before. In fact, she would go as far as to say that it was distinctly disrespectful.

'I will break your fucking neck, you cunt!'

Maggie sighed once more. 'Is that really the best you can do, Jack? Call me names, call me a cunt, the one word that I hate more than any other? I just realised, Sis, it sums you up lovely, doesn't it? I lost my child and you think you can come round here shouting the odds, because you think I wanted the piece of shit you married. You had better sort yourself out, mate. Listen to yourself now and again, you selfish, drunken fat bitch!'

Maggie waved her hand at Jackie like she was nothing and turned to the girls, who were huddled together in various stages of shock.

'Take her home, for fuck's sake. Get her out of my sight!'

The animosity was almost tangible between the two women now.

'I'll fucking kill you, Maggie Jackson. You'll fucking regret taking the piss out of me, lady.'

Maggie turned back towards her sister. She spoke quietly, and with menace, enunciating every word slowly and clearly, her own well-manicured finger poking her sister in the face.

'You lay one hand on me, Jack, and I will wrap you around this house. I am capable of it and all, mate. You don't scare me any more, you haven't scared me since I was at school. You are a big, fat, bloated, mouthy, fucking no neck, and that is your problem. You know that better than anyone else does and that knowledge kills you.'

Maggie was shaking her head in disappointed anger. 'I buried my baby and you would still bring this shit to my door? If there's any killing to be done this day, it will be done by me, get it? And you remember that if you bring this little soiree into my Jimmy's world, Freddie and you will both be finished, and I will see to that personally. You are not welcome here, Jackie. I have carried you for years and I don't fucking need this crap in my life any more. Now fuck off home before I really lose my rag.'

Chapter Twenty-Nine

'Please tell me what the fuck is really going on, Jimmy. Me nerves are nearly busted with all this.' Glenford was laughing as he spoke but Jimmy knew he meant it seriously.

'I told you, I ain't carrying him no more. I have had enough of him. Not before time, is it? Anyone else would have aimed him out the door years ago. But he was family, and I swallowed because of that. End of story.'

'Beginning of the story, more like.'

Jimmy shrugged, and Glenford knew that he would not get any more from him. Instead, he asked, 'Is he still on a promise?'

'From what I gather, yeah.' Jimmy grinned now. 'Freddie and his skirt, eh? I remember when he was released and he was clocking anything with a pulse.'

Glenford laughed loudly now, his new gold teeth glinting in the weak afternoon sun. 'It his hobby. Strange is what keeps the man alive.' Then he sat down on the comfortable leather sofa in Jimmy's office and said seriously, 'What is this about, man? I can feel your anger, feel your body rhythms are all out of sync. I just want to help you, man, you are me best friend and you know that. I think there's a good chance that I am yours as well, you know.'

Jimmy nodded in acknowledgement.

Glenford was shaking his heavy dreads in consternation now, and, picking up half a joint from the heavy white soapstone ashtray in front of him, he relit it. Puffing on it heavily he said, 'Since Jimmy Junior, you ain't been right, you specially ain't been right with Freddie. It's almost like you blaming him.'

Jimmy loved this man like a brother, and he wasn't surprised that he had worked out the cause of his problems so easily, but he could not say out loud what was still careering around his head every second of every day.

Freddie's son had killed his baby, his boy, his life's blood.

Freddie was on the laughing gear. The girl had provided a decent bit of sniff and, mixed with the whisky and Freddie's bad humour, he was now rocking.

Melanie thought she was the height of sophistication, she sniffed as loud as possible and with dramatic hand gestures so that everyone around her would know she had taken cocaine.

Freddie didn't have the heart to tell her that it was cut so badly, if it was a geezer it would have a face full of Mars Bars. He had scored some decent shit for himself off a mate that lunchtime, and he had just slipped it to Melanie who was now about to fly higher than the Hubble spacecraft.

Her eyes were already glittering and, he had to admit, coked-out birds before they hit the deck had a certain charm about them. This little bird really believed she knew her gear, knew a snort and knew a puff.

What an embarrassment she really was. A fucking babe in arms to him, and that was just how he liked them.

In a few minutes she would start to talk the hind leg off a table. He would find out all her business, and Freddie was looking forward to that. She was a lamb, and lambs like this one needed slaughtering badly. This was going to be a life lesson for her. He only hoped she realised how lucky she was that he was taking such an interest in her, even if it was mainly to kill a few hours and see if Jimmy came to him for a change.

He forced another drink on her and she gulped at it, as he knew she would, because her mouth was now drier than a nun's tits, and the whole bottom of her face had gone numb. As she leaned forward he saw she was about to stumble and he grabbed her in his arms, in a tight bear hug that made her feel cared for, made her feel safe.

'Steady on, girl, you sure you're all right?'

He was jovial, he was on his best behaviour, and he was also copping a feel of her very adventurous-looking Bristols. He guessed from her smile that they had been handled more times than a footballer's dick but he didn't care about that. He fancied a bit of soft, and big bouncy ones were always good for a bit of soft.

Judging by her belly, which she was now forgetting to hold in, she usually drank lager.

Well, she was in for an education today, and he was just in the mood to start educating her.

Paul was worried about the condition of his wife's niece and knew without a doubt that he was going to get the blame for it. 'Leave her alone, Freddie. Come on, Mel love. Go on up to Liselle.'

Melanie pushed her long straggly blond hair out of her face and said belligerently, 'Piss off, Paul, I am over eighteen, you know.'

Her hostility was rubbing off on Freddie now as he watched the little scene unfolding before his eyes. 'What the fuck's it got to do with you anyway, Paul?'

Paul shrugged. 'It's Liselle's niece.'

Freddie bellowed at the poor girl, 'Are you? Really?'

She nodded and they both started to laugh.

Paul knew when he was beaten but he tried once more, knowing Liselle would get a blow-by-blow account off the regular punters. 'Come on, you're off your nut. Let me take you up to Liselle, eh?'

Freddie pushed Paul's arms away from the girl, nearly knocking her over in the process.

'Fuck off", you prick, she is all right with me.'

Paul sighed. 'Come on, Freddie, how would you feel if it was one of your girls? Liselle will do her crust, and you know it.'

He was the voice of reason, the nice bloke. None of which cut any ice with Freddie Jackson, who only saw his afternoon's shag disappearing before his eyes. 'Fuck off, Paul, and I mean it.'

The menace was evident, as was the way he suddenly straightened up, pulled back his shoulders and bared his teeth, making him look almost feral.

'Why don't you go and ring Ozzy, or even Jimmy, his chief arsehole licker, and grass me up, tell them what I've been doing all day, eh? You fucking snotbag… Tell them, right, that I think they are a pair of cunts. Go on-' he was laughing now at his own words – 'tell them that. Go on, I dare you.'

Everyone in the pub had gone quiet as he shouted out his insults and Paul knew his ravings were going to be all over the place within hours. Freddie should have known better than to let his mouth run away with him like that. It wasn't the first time it had happened, though, lately it had been a frequent event. He was more annoyed that Freddie was mouthing off like that to impress a little girl who was destined for everything their world had to offer, except of course greatness.

Melanie was her mother's daughter, and he gave her three years before she really was old before her time. Paul could have launched his wife's niece out of the door and through Barking Park. Instead, he shook his head sadly and watched the girl as her screeching laugh became a very deep and very nasty smoker's cough.

She was eighteen and three months and she was listening to Freddie Jackson as if he was the oracle and looking at him as if he was something the cat had dragged in just for her.

Well, fuck her now, let her make her own mistakes. He had just about had enough. If Liselle stayed upstairs he was safe enough. If not, she could sort this lot out herself.

Jackie was alone in her house and as usual she was drinking vodka mixed with wine. She had been so sure that she was going to lay Maggie out once and for all, but she had ended up leaving with her daughters and her shame at her predicament was growing by the second.

Her daughters should have seen her confront and conquer the woman who had accused their father of rape, yet she knew they believed it of him. Her own kids thought that little of their father, and she knew they thought even less of her.

It was this that was troubling her so much. In a few hours her whole world had come crashing down around her ears and she knew that there would never be any going back now. Her mother and father would be in bits about it, especially after the kid dying. He was the kid now, because she knew in her heart that Freddie was his father. Freddie had fathered that little boy.

If Maggie told Jimmy what she had said there would be murders. Maggie had denied it all but she had known her sister was lying through her teeth. Maggie was trying to save her, trying to save the family and on one level she understood that. But looking at Maggie today, with her perfect hair and her perfect home, the usual jealous animosity was to the fore.

Even with the grief she knew her sister was having to cope with, Jackie still found it hard to feel any pity for her. In fact she felt that Maggie had all the luck, even her bloody kid had died and she was once more a free agent.

What she wouldn't have given to have offloaded hers over the years. Especially the girls, who had driven her mad with their backchat and their constant sniping at her.

She picked up the bottle of vodka and saw that she had downed over two thirds of it, and she wasn't even starting to feel drunk. It took longer and longer now, she was just topping up. She was half pissed all day every day. But instead of her usual happy feeling she was experiencing an incredible anger. It was bubbling away and the more she thought of how she had humiliated herself at Maggie's, the more she felt she should do something, something spectacular, to make amends.

Rape! She was having a laugh if she thought that old flannel would wash. The hate was inside her once more. She could never allow herself to believe that her husband had done something so monstrous. It was, she decided, the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard of, and she was not going to let that fucking skank get away with the accusation.

She swallowed down the rest of her drink and poured herself out another, larger glass. She was feeling in the mood for revenge now and she had a good idea how she was going to achieve it.

Jimmy needed a rocket up his arse and she was going to see that he got just that. She would make Maggie think twice before she threw around those kind of allegations.

She was almost out of control now, she knew the signs, and she knew she was on the verge of losing the little bit of rationality she possessed.

Everyone was the enemy now, including her slag of a husband, and especially that skinny bitch who had the nerve to call herself a sister.

Paul was on the phone to Jimmy. 'He is cunting you up hill and down dale. Everyone is blanking him as best they can, but you have to come and get shot for me, Jim. He is fucking out of order.'

'Start clearing the pub, Paul, on the quiet, OK?'

Paul sighed and whispered angrily, 'I have had enough of him. Liselle is like the fucking anti-Christ, walking round with a face like a fucking Rottweiler chewing on a hornet's nest, and blaming me for her niece being out of her fucking box. And to add insult to injury, he is accusing me and you of being arse lickers for Oz. Who will not be in the least impressed when he hears about this lot.'

Paul sounded worried. Freddie was not a man anyone would take on lightly, and Paul, even though he had his shotgun, would much rather leave the man's removal to Jimmy Jackson.

Jimmy sighed. 'You're like a fucking old woman, Paul. Get a fucking grip, you nonce. Just do what I say and clear the pub. Leave everything else to me. I want a car and I want peace and quiet, do you get my drift?'

Paul didn't answer and Jimmy knew then that he was finally taking the seriousness of the situation on board.

'When I arrive, I want you to fuck off, and I don't want to see you until the morning, all right?'

Paul was nodding in complete and utter consternation. 'OK.' Only that morning he had said there would be murders. He had not, however, meant it literally.

Freddie was calling out to him from the bar, 'Phoning your boyfriend? Tell him I am ready when he is.'

Melanie was laughing her head off and this alone was annoying Paul. He knew Jimmy could hear it all as well. He felt like a kid who had been caught out grassing, but then again, he knew that was how Freddie wanted him to feel.

'Ignore him, Paul. Just get yourself out of there, OK.'

The line went dead then and Paul stared at the phone as if he had never seen it before. As he replaced the receiver, he saw his wife standing at the top of the stairs. The fear on her face was evident as he said quietly, 'Pack a bag, we are out of here.'

'What about Melanie?'

Paul shrugged in exaggerated boredom. 'What about her?'

Maggie was alone, and as always since her baby had died she let the quiet envelop her. She liked being on her own. It gave her a feeling of security because she could still pretend that he was alive, that he was going to walk through the door laughing with his daddy. Only poor Jimmy walked in by himself and the bubble burst and she became more aloof than ever.

All that wasted time, all those years when she had not been able to even touch the child without a feeling of revulsion. Freddie taunting her with his eyes and with his smiles, how had she lived through that?

She wondered at times how she had coped with it all. Now she would put up with anything to have him back beside her, no matter how much his presence might hurt her.

And Jackie – the balloon would be going up soon there. She knew her sister too well. Now she had this big black secret that she could use as a big stick, and Jackie would take great pleasure in beating her with it.

Maggie hated her at times, and she never wanted to see her again, but it was still second nature to her to try and protect the woman who would happily destroy her and her life.

She waited patiently for her husband to return.

'This is between me and Freddie.'

Glenford sighed, much like Paul had a few minutes earlier. 'Let me come with you, eh?'

Jimmy shook his head. 'Nah, I have a lot of sorting out to do. You get yourself off home, mate. You've been stuck to me like shit to a blanket all day.'

'Is this as serious as it feels, Jimmy?' Glenford's voice was soft. He had a deep brown voice and it was a kind voice, unless the person he was addressing had upset him in some way. Then his voice sounded deadly, and the listener was aware that their days were liable to be numbered unless they did exactly what he was asking of them.

It was this determination, which Jimmy also had in abundance, that had made them such good friends.

'Do you remember all those years ago, Jimmy, when Freddie tried to have me over with that shit grass?'

Jimmy nodded.

'I knew even then that you were to be trusted and Freddie was nothing but a piece of shit. A lucky piece of shit, he had been lucky enough to have been banged up with Ozzy who saw a worker and utilised him. But without you he would not have lasted a month, and do you know the worst thing of all?'

Jimmy shook his head.

'Freddie knows that as well, and that, my friend, is why this day had to come.'

Jimmy grinned. 'I never begrudged him a thing, always a fifty-fifty split, and I still had to fucking bail him out. Do you know how much we have collared over the years? Fucking fortunes, and I watch him putting on his thirty-grand fucking bets, and his fucking cars that he runs into the ground and then fucking dumps. He don't even bother to fucking insure them half the time, a sixty-grand motor and he can't even be bothered to insure it. All that dough and he is still scratching a fucking living. I ain't giving him a fifty split any more. I haven't for years, and he has never once questioned it. He gets twenty per cent now because I couldn't bear to see that money being spunked. He ain't earned it anyway, I earn it. I use me fucking nous, he just threatens people, but it shows you how much working knowledge he has of the businesses that he ain't ever questioned it. It has never occurred to him that the wedge is huge for us. He has no concept of the real world whatsoever.'

Glenford listened carefully, and then he said, 'In all these years this is the first time you have ever said anything like that. This is really serious, isn't it?'

Jimmy smiled. 'Nah, it's just long overdue, that's all.'

He jumped into his motor. Glenford watched him as he sped away and he wondered at a man who was so relaxed when going into what was, in effect, the lion's den. Freddie was a nutter, Freddie was not all the ticket, and that meant you never knew what he was going to do next.

He only hoped Jimmy bore that in mind when he confronted him.

He made a mental note to ask around some of his cronies to see if he could shed any light on what had occurred between the two men. He didn't hold out much hope. He knew Freddie cunted Jimmy at every available opportunity, but Jimmy was aware of that and so it couldn't be starting to bug him now.

No, whatever this was it went deeper than anyone could imagine.

'Oh, Jackie, you're drunk as a lord!' Lena was furious and Jackie enjoyed the effect she was creating.

Joseph shook his head at Maddie, who was in the flat for her weekly chat and shop with Lena. It was hard to believe that those two had once been enemies over their children marrying, and yet now were like bosom buddies.

Joseph raised his eyebrows and Maddie pursed her lips primly. Jackie sober was bad enough, but drunk she was a nightmare. It was as if she grew with the drink, somehow. She was a big girl anyway, but with drink in her she seemed enormous. Maddie knew it was a silly way to think and that it was only because Jackie was so accident-prone while in her cups.

As she barrelled through the small flat into the kitchen, she caught sight of her mother-in-law and said loudly, 'Have you heard?'

Joseph sighed in annoyance and even in her drunken state Jackie saw the toll the boy's death had taken on her parents. They seemed much older, and her mother's usually spotless home was grubby, unkempt and uncared for.

'Heard what?' Joe sounded irritable and this irritated his daughter in turn.

'About your darling daughter Maggie.'

No one spoke, and Jackie felt on the verge of screaming. As usual, none of them thought the marvellous Maggie could do any wrong.

'You leave poor Maggie alone, she's enough to contend with.'

It was her mother's tone of voice, the reverence with which she spoke about Maggie, that set Jackie off and she hollered as loudly as she could, wincing at her own inebriated ramblings, 'She reckons my Freddie raped her. Have you ever heard anything like it?'

She now had what she always wanted, the attention of the whole room, and as three pairs of eyes looked at her in absolute disdain she bellowed, 'And she reckons, or so she told my Kimberley anyway, that Jimmy Junior was his baby, Freddie's son, not your fucking precious Jimmy's.'

'Get out, Jackie.' Her father's voice was harsher than she had heard it for years. He grabbed her by the hair and he physically dragged her to the front door. Opening it he threw her with all his might out into the small lobby.

'Fuck off, and don't you ever come back here again, you hear me?'

Jackie was unsure exactly what had happened until the door slammed and she scrambled to her feet. Her father's voice was so final, so full of dislike, that she understood that any last chances she might have had were long gone. Kneeling on the floor, she cried as she had not cried in years.

Melanie was aware that they were alone in the pub. Her uncle Paul had put a bottle of Scotch on the bar and Freddie was pouring it out for them both in huge quantities. The coke had made her higher than she had ever been, and the sudden exodus around her was making her feel uncomfortable for some reason.

She put it down to coke paranoia. She had experienced it before, but this stuff Freddie had was out of this world. Each snort had made her feel more and more adventurous, in fact she was almost willing to strip off and go for it as Freddie kept urging her. If her aunt had not been upstairs, she knew the temptation would have been too much for her.

This was the life she dreamed of, being with someone like Freddie where every day was a holiday and every night was just a round of pubs and clubs and getting out of it, and making yourself up for your bloke.

No job, no real income, just an endless round of enjoying yourself.

If she played her cards right, she knew she could find herself right on her feet with Freddie Jackson. She wasn't silly, she knew he was married and she knew his wife was a right headcase. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

She only wanted to be his bird. He was far too old to think of marrying, he was almost Jurassic, bless him.

She was still congratulating herself on her catch of the day when a younger, much better-looking version of Freddie walked into the pub.

Freddie, who had been regaling her with his tales of derring-do whilst in prison, was suddenly aware that the place was empty, quiet.

Even the jukebox was silent.

'Well, well, if it isn't fucking Livingstone.'

Jimmy smiled. 'Pissed, are you? What happened to you this morning? I was waiting for you.'

Jimmy was talking nicely, almost conversationally. But Melanie picked up the nuances in the conversation and a fright took hold of her. The two men were so alike, but the younger one, he had the stature and the standing of someone important, someone who was listened to.

Freddie Jackson, beside him, looked like the poor relation and she guessed that Freddie felt the same way as she did.

The younger man had on a smart pair of trousers and a smart shirt, his gold watch was thin-banded and obviously expensive. He had well-cut hair and manicured hands, and even his voice was modulated. He sounded educated, sounded like someone who, as she had first thought, was listened to.

Next to him Freddie looked what he was, a dishevelled and bloated also-ran. He had the button eyes of a grifter and the sneaky look of a con man. In her heightened state of awareness it occurred to her that Freddie Jackson was not such a prize after all. This man was a prize, though, this man was someone to aspire to.

She smiled at him as he stood in front of her.

'Fuck off.' His voice was cold, calculatingly cold, and it unnerved her.

She immediately looked at Freddie for his reaction to the man's rudeness. Freddie grinned and she now saw the nasty glint in his eyes, the sallow skin and the redness around his cheeks that told her he was a drinker.

She raised her eyebrows at him to see what she was supposed to do, and he kept his eyes on the younger man as he said nonchalantly, 'You heard the man, Mel, fuck off.'

She was shocked at the callous way he spoke to her. A few minutes earlier she had been contemplating stripping off and doing whatever he wanted, she had even contemplated a relationship of some kind with him.

Now he was pushing her away, discarding her without a backward glance. She was also aware that she was letting this man talk to her like she was dirt, letting him look down his nose at her.

Freddie was laughing now. The look on Melanie's face was priceless, and now that Jimmy had come to him he was feeling an adrenaline rush.

'Come on, girl, chop chop. The big man has spoken and everyone has to do what you tell them, don't they, Jimmy?' This was said quietly, like a schoolboy to a teacher.

Then, passing her a drink, he took Mel's arm gently and led her to a table by the stained-glass window. After she was seated Freddie smiled at her and said, 'Wait here, this shouldn't take long.'

Jimmy watched the man he had admired all those years ago and wondered at what had happened to him. He had no respect left for him whatsoever. Freddie was dragging this stupid girl into their argument, into their business, because he could not do anything without an audience.

Walking over to them, Jimmy took her bodily by the arm and walked her through to the living quarters of the pub.

'Piss off, love.'

As he walked back he saw Freddie pouring out more drinks, and he sighed. Freddie was drunk and as always he was mean drunk.

'You came, then?' Freddie seemed to think that this was hilarious, and once more Jimmy was aware of how little esteem he now held this man in.

'I knew you'd come to me eventually.' This was said smugly, as if he had won something.

Jimmy didn't answer him for a few seconds, and then he said seriously, 'You're out, Fred.' He was gratified to see Freddie's look of complete astonishment.

'What do you mean, I'm out?'

Jimmy grinned. 'What I say, you are out.' He said the last few words distinctly as if talking to a small child, or a deaf person. Enunciating every word.

Freddie was nonplussed for a few moments. Then he said, 'Out of what, Jimmy?'

Freddie sounded as if he was in a padded room, narked up with Dospan. He sounded amazed and also as if what he was hearing was unbelievable to him. Which of course it was.

Now Jimmy laughed, as he said in a clear voice, 'You are out on your arse. You are finished, Freddie, and you had better get that through your thick head once and for all.'

Chapter Thirty

Little Freddie was at school and the novelty of being the perfect child was starting to wear off, but he knew that to keep on his father's good side he needed to act the dutiful son. As he looked around him at the classroom and at his classmates, he wondered how people didn't die of absolute boredom.

He was aware, though, that if he didn't keep this façade up he would be put away somewhere. His father had been on the verge of it, he knew, and Little Freddie had been reduced to giving him a load of fanny about it all just being a game that had got out of hand. Neither of them believed it but it was there, out in the open, for his father to use for his own benefit.

The annoying thing was, he was fed up with this act. It was wearing, being nice all the time.

He imagined the people around him in his power, imagined them in his complete control. They were all marks to him, nothing more, with their please and thank yous, and their fucking politeness. He was forceful enough to get them where he wanted them, he liked to manipulate people, liked his rep as a bad boy.

The fear of real violence could do that just as well, his father had taught him that much. He liked to remember things when he was alone, and he liked to fantasise about people around him.

He looked in the mirror every day and saw himself, and he knew that he was a handsome boy. Tall for his age, he had his father's looks and his father's build, though his dad was starting to run to fat. Young Freddie saw himself as apart from everyone else. He had friends but they were his friends, he wasn't theirs. He ruled them, they were wary of him, and his father's reputation got him an out on a daily basis.

He felt nothing, and when his friend's mother had died of cancer a few weeks earlier he had not understood the boy's crushing grief.

She was dead. Crying wouldn't bring her back. What on earth was the problem? She was a miserable old bitch anyway, always fucking carping on, silly cow.

Yet, as young as he was, he had already sussed out that he had to at least emulate the emotions of other people, and luckily for him soap operas filled this gap in his education. In fact, they were fountains of wisdom as far as he was concerned.

He knew how to act out emotion now and thanks to EastEnders he was happy in the knowledge that in East London you fought and argued to get what you wanted.

Little Freddie also knew that he got away with murder because of his looks. Beautiful people were treated better in the world than the ugly bastards were. His father had always said that, and it was true.

'Go home, Jackie, and don't come back here any more.'

Jackie was completely hysterical and the mother in Lena wanted to go to her, try to comfort her, but her husband had for the first time in years put his foot down.

'If you let her in, I will fucking walk out of this house, and I swear on that poor child's grave that I will never come back, and that is fucking swearing to it. I am sick to death of Jackie and her fucking problems.'

Lena knew he meant what he said, because now he was ranting and raging all over the small flat. Lena and Maddie shrugged at one another like conspirators.

'I am fucking sick and tired of her and that fucking boy of hers, that mad bastard she bred. When she was carrying him she was either pissed out of her brains or drugged up to the eyebrows. She lost one because of her fucking drinking and drugging and I wish the same had happened with him, because he ain't all the fucking ticket. I don't want him near or by me or mine, and the same goes for that fucking muppet she saddled herself with. Freddie Jackson is another fucking awkward ponce. Jimmy is outing him anyway, he gets the bad news today, and if you ask me not before fucking time.'

He looked at his wife as he said through gritted teeth, 'It's a serious out and all, Lena. There ain't been one like this since the fucking Krays walked the pavements. Freddie will be a fucking outcast, he will be like a fucking leper, and consequently it means that he won't be welcome anywhere. Any mates have to either blank him or lose their own livelihoods. That cunt is all but finished, and not before fucking time, I say.'

Lena had never seen him so angry before, and in his day he had given her more than her fair share of rows, black eyes and fat lips. But they had been passionate fights, at least that is how she remembered them now. Not as the vicious hidings they had really been from a man who was taking out on her his own guilt because he had pissed up every penny they had on some old sort he had picked up in a pub. Those had been the days, of course, when all women got a clump off the old man, especially if they nagged, and Lena was the first to admit that she could nag expertly and for hours at a time if the fancy took her.

Nowadays she would not take that off anyone, let alone a man, though in the past she had expected a shiner or two, like her mother before her. They had been stupid enough to think that a jealous man loved them, that a man in drink was not responsible for his actions. And that they, the women concerned, were somehow lacking, or the men would have come home on time.

But this hate-filled ranting was new, she had never seen Joe like it before. And if Freddie had the serious out, that meant her daughter would have to pack up and move away. There was no other choice, they would be social outcasts, and even family would be wary of seeing them. There may not have been an out like this since the sixties, but it would still be enforced. It was the criminal equivalent to being put away, except in nick you could have visits. Her daughter would be gone from her and she felt awful because the news made her feel relieved, and that was wrong. But she was so sick of all the trouble that came with Jackie and she was getting too old for it.

Joseph started raging once more, and Lena could see the absolute hatred he felt for his son-in-law in his wrinkled-up face.

'That big vicious ponce Freddie Jackson, thinking he can do what he likes to whoever he fucking likes, and that fat bitch out there who was demented enough to go and get married to him, shouting about rape. This shower of shite are all fucking barred now, the out is already in force as far as I am concerned. They will not cross this bastard, poxy, fucking doorstep and he can come round here with a fucking army-surplus flame-thrower and I will still tell him to get fucked!'

He was spitting in anger and Lena knew that he had something terrible on his mind. She had assumed it was the poor little fellow's death but now she wondered what he knew. If Jimmy boy had confided in him, what trouble was going to come to their door? She was worried herself now, and, putting on the kettle, she decided to make a cup of tea, not that she wanted one particularly, but for something to do.

Jackie's crying was going through her head and she assumed rightly that it was also going through her neighbours' heads. What she had to put up with from that girl and her husband was no bloody joke. She was now looking forward to the out, although she wouldn't admit that, of course.

She closed her eyes in shame as she heard Mrs Faraday, a very clean-living Protestant with a blue rinse and varicose veins, who resided on the ground floor, shouting up to her daughter.

'I am phoning the police, this is an absolute disgrace. You're drunk, woman, now go home and leave your poor mother in peace.'

Lena hated Mrs Faraday with her bloody cardigans and the annoying way she had of looking down her nose at people because they were Catholics, Irish, a mixture of both or Scottish. She liked the Welsh, apparently, and Lena gathered this was because they went to the correct church. That said, a Jehovah's Witness never knocked on another door in the block once they had experienced Mrs Faraday, and in that respect she could be very handy.

Lena had spent the best part of thirty years trying to look, outwardly at least, respectable to Mrs Faraday and two other tenants of the council block who acted as if they lived in Kensington Palace. Between her husband and Jackie she had fought a losing battle over those years. Now, though, with the grief inside her and the voice of Mrs Faraday bringing back memories of long-ago days when she had been humiliated by her. Lena suddenly lost all her maternal instincts and bolted from the flat like a banshee. Physically picking up her daughter by her clothes, she pushed and dragged her down the stairs, then she threw her out on to the pavement.

'Go home and sober up, you drunken mare, and don't come here any more. We've had enough of you for one bleeding day.'

She was pleased with herself for not letting a string of expletives come out of her mouth as was usual.

Mrs Faraday, who had been watching from her doorway, said primly, 'And about time too.'

To which an overwrought Lena answered, 'Oh, fuck off back inside, you nosy old bag.'

'Do you think Mum will be all right?'

Dianna shrugged. 'Who cares? I have had enough of her, to be honest. Drop me at the hospital, will you?'

Kim sighed. 'You're not going to see that Terry, are you?'

'Mind your own business, and ask Rox if I can stay at hers tonight. I think there's going to be fucking murders at home.'

'That's nothing new.'

Both girls were wary now of talking too much about Maggie and what their father had been accused of. It was too raw for them, too much out of their experience, so they decided to leave the adults to it and then just pick up the pieces afterwards, as was usual in the Jackson household.

But they were both frightened of what the outcome was going to be.

Jimmy and their father were both hard men, both were capable of taking care of themselves and both were due to have some kind of tear up because everyone knew that Jimmy had overtaken his mentor years before.

Maddie listened in silence as poor Joseph vented his spleen, and she knew it would do him the world of good to let out some of his anger and his sorrow. He looked awful.

As she got up and poured the boiling water into the teapot, he seemed to remember that this was Freddie's mother sitting at the table, and suddenly all his fight left him and he said sadly, 'Sorry, Maddie, it's nothing personal to you, love, but I fucking hate him. Everywhere he goes he causes upset or trouble of some description.'

She sighed then and patting her as always immaculately coiffed dark hair she said regretfully, 'I feel the same way about him meself.'

Lena thought she was going to drop down dead at the table in shock. Maddie had said him, in a voice drenched in hatred, and she knew she was talking about her son. Her Freddie, the love of her life.

Lena went and shut all the doors in the flat, and she closed all the windows too. Jackie had resumed her crying in the street, but this time it wasn't going to wash. She was not going out to her. She always ended up going to her house to sort her out, or picking her up from a pub because her mother's phone number was the only one she ever seemed to remember when drunk, or dragging her in from the street outside after an argument had gone over the top, and she was fed up with all the bloody drama of it.

Maddie poured the tea and as she sat down in the chair once more she said quietly, 'Freddie killed his father, you know.'

Lena and Joseph stared at the tidy-looking woman opposite them, and both wondered if they were hearing things.

She nodded at them as if to confirm that what she was saying was true.

'He was never the same after the beating Freddie had doled out to him. That's what he does you see, my Freddie, he beats you down. He sucks all the confidence and the life out of you and before you know it you are like that poor child who's screeching for England out there.'

She lit a Kensitas cigarette and sipped at her tea in the ladylike way extremely thin people seem to possess naturally, before saying softly, 'To be honest, I wouldn't put it past my son to have slashed his father's wrists for him. My husband had the blood count of a man five times over the legal driving limit, the coroner told me that to try and make me feel better. But I know Freddie was responsible, and he knows I know. Whatever happened in that room only happened because Freddie wanted it to happen, because Freddie made it happen.'

She smiled weakly at her two friends then, and Lena wondered how long this poor woman had wanted to get that family secret off her wheezing chest.

'You can't fucking out me, what about Ozzy?' Freddie was still gobsmacked. He had expected a row, he had even convinced himself that he might even have to take this lairy little fucker out.

He was more than aware, though, that if he offed Jimmy for whatever reason his days on this earth would be numbered. Jimmy had too many friends in their world, real friends and he gave them all a good living, himself included.

The one thing he had not expected today was to be told he was out of a job, out of the firm and out of all that entailed for him, from birds to money to a decent fight when he wanted one. But if Jimmy thought he was going to lumber him with a serious out, well, that was not going to happen, he was determined not to let that happen.

Jimmy shrugged nonchalantly. 'Oz has given everything over to me. When he dies, and I hope that is not for a long time, it's mine, Freddie. I am to all intents and purposes Ozzy, and everyone answers to me. That, unfortunately, once included you, Freddie, but not any more. Ozzy, if you are interested, is right behind me.'

He could see the way the pupils of Freddie's eyes widened at his words, and Jimmy admired the way he recovered himself so quickly.

'You are finished on this manor, mate, and you had better accept that. If anyone employs you then I don't deal with them any longer and, ergo, neither will anyone else. It's as simple as that. No one works anything here without my express say-so, remember. I have a touch off everything and everyone, the blags, the clubs, the pubs, the dealers, even the late-night fucking burger vans are indirectly run by me or mine. I rowed you out fucking years ago, Fred, and now you are really out, out in the freezing-your-gonads-off cold. You and that animal you spawned with your piss head of a wife are dead to me. All that is left for you now, Freddie, is to pick up and start over somewhere else, because you ain't welcome here.'

He picked up his mobile and his car keys and made to leave.

Freddie grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. 'You can't do this to me, Jimmy.'

Jimmy shrugged him off aggressively. 'I just did, Freddie. You had your chance and you blew it, like you've blown every chance you've ever had.' He shrugged once more and then smiled happily. 'Bye.'

Freddie had envisaged many things on this day but not to be outed. Out of all this meant he was a complete no one, it meant all he had ever known would be gone from him. He would have to move away, he would have to disappear because the shame would kill him otherwise. No one would even acknowledge him if Jimmy outed him. He felt almost sick now with apprehension and dread.

He had to keep his wits about him, he had to try to talk his way through to Jimmy, Jimmy who had loved him once. The enormity of what had happened was hitting him like a ball-peen hammer, and he felt fear, real fear, for the first time in years.

'He is my son, Jimmy, don't forget that. I got him help, he's on drugs… It was a game, that's all, a tragic game that went wrong.'

Jimmy looked into the face so like his own and said with absolute incredulity, 'He needs locking away and I tell you now, once this is all over, if you ain't fucked off out of it somewhere new, I am telling a few choice people what the score is with him. Joseph knows, he always said Little Freddie was a fucking few paving stones short of a patio. If I see him I will fucking kill him. He might be a kid but he is a big cunt and he's a dangerous cunt, and he is for the out along with you and that fucking scab you married. I don't ever want to clap eyes on you, that retard you fucking fathered, or the fucking moron you call your wife, ever again.'

Freddie tried for the sympathy vote. He could not be outed and he could not bang his boy up. He had been banged up and he knew what it was like.

'You can't fucking tell me what to do with my child. He is a kid. He is a big fucker I admit, but he ain't got the brains he was born with. Jackie was always out of her box when she was carrying him, you know that. That's what happened to him, Jimmy, that's why he is like he is… He is on the pills now and he is a changed boy.'

For the first time in years Jimmy heard a real emotion in Freddie's voice. He grinned. 'You don't honestly believe that I am going to swallow that load of old cods, do you? Let you off with another caution like I did with that poor Stephanie and fucking Jewish Lenny? You're a fucking animal and you bred an animal. You live like fucking animals in that filthy shit hole you call home. You are a man whose card has been well and truly marked, mate. No one will touch you with a fucking dodgy DVD now, Freddie. The word is out. You are finished, and if you are foolhardy enough to think that you can fucking resume your usual skulduggery, under my nose, then you are even more stupid than I thought.'

He poured himself a Scotch then, and he sipped at it before saying quietly, and without passion or even a hint of smugness, 'Do you know the funny thing, Freddie? No one defended you, not one person even asked what you had done to get a punishment like this. No one has been outed for years, yet no one was curious about why you were being blanked. They were all more relieved than anything else, and I can understand that, because I am relieved meself that I ain't got to fucking have you hanging round my neck like a cast-iron fucking albatross any more. And I made it perfectly clear that you are to be treated like a fucking pariah, and everyone from Glenford to the Blacks was over the moon about it.'

Freddie was once more in mortal agony at his words and it occurred to Jimmy that he had expected violence, extreme violence. In fact, he had placed a small axe in the back of his trousers. But Freddie was too busy trying to think his way out of the total blanking he was going to get when this all came to fruition.

Jimmy had taken Freddie's very livelihood from him, a serious step in their world where compensation was paid out liberally if anyone happened to accidentally tread on someone's toes, either by encroaching on their scams, or even something trivial like dealing in the same clubs. This was a world where your reputation was only as good as the firm that you worked with, drank with or was employed by you. Freddie was past killing him, because once Jimmy was dead he would lose all chance of ever getting another in, getting another take, and their take had been huge and yet he knew that Freddie was probably boracic lint as per usual. He just spunked it all up as he got it.

He had worked out one night that Freddie had spent over half a million pounds on his house over the last fifteen years and yet it was one of the scruffiest in the street. They had not even bought it on the Right to Buy Scheme. They were still on the fucking council and he knew they were still in rent arrears. It would be laughable if it wasn't so very sad.

The man he had visited all those years as a young boy had been a figment of his imagination. His boyhood hero was now reduced to less than nothing and he felt not one iota of compassion for him.

Freddie glared at him now, and Jimmy knew that the implications of what was going to happen to him in the future were starting to sink in properly.

'You would do this to me.' It was said without menace, it was said without a questioning tone, it was a statement of fact.

Jimmy nodded silently.

Freddie finally understood then that Jimmy would do it, more to the point had already done it. He had a nasty feeling that his predicament was being discussed by people even as they were standing here. He looked at the two of them in the bar mirror and saw they were evenly matched protagonists, except, as he looked properly, Jimmy, being of lighter years and larger build, looked already like the victor.

Freddie saw then, for the first time, what he could have been, should have been.

Jimmy looked the part, acted the part, he was the part.

'Have you served my boy up, grassed him?' This was said with accusation, with the disrespect that would normally be reserved for a grass, a supergrass in fact.

Jimmy didn't answer him. His face told Freddie what he thought of the accusation and that he would not give the question any credence by honouring it with a reply.

But he could grass. Freddie knew he could take the fucking lot down if he wanted to and the filth would reward him, he was sure. The idea took root as he knew it would, and he filed the thought away for future reference.

He stood there for long moments with his huge hands clenched into fists and an almost electric charge going through him as he gradually allowed the predicament he had caused to sink into his brain.

'Well, I ain't going quietly, Jimmy. I'll fucking kill you before I will let you do this to me. You'd fucking humiliate me, you fucking scumbag. When everything you got, you only got because of me!'

He was poking himself in the chest now as he began to lose his temper once more. 'I was the one who done the lump and set all this up. I was the one who had to listen to that boring cunt's stories of the old days over and over again, and set the meets up, and I brought you in with me because I loved you, and now you are snatching it off me. But you remember, Jimmy, that it was me, it was me who laid the foundations of everything we have now and you know it. I want my fucking compensation, because without me you would still be nicking fucking cars and selling dope on the side.'

Jimmy refilled his glass with whisky and sipped it once more. He was almost enjoying himself now. 'Without you, Freddie, I can grieve for my boy in peace without wondering if that mad cunt of yours will be nearby. I can work my living now, without worrying about what trouble or upset you are going to cause with your fucking big trap. Without you, I don't have to listen to your crap fucking stories or feed and water your fucking ugly wife. I know what you've said about me over the years, Freddie, you treacherous cunt. I hear everything, and do you know what? I expected better off of you, but deep inside somehow I always knew you were just a two-faced, jealous and fucking incompetent wanker. Without me, Freddie, it's you who are nothing, mate. You, not me.'

Freddie knew he was beaten and yet it just would not register in his brain. His life as he knew it was over, he would be suspect now that Jimmy was giving him the cold shoulder, and if no one knew the real reason, and he was confident that they didn't, then they would assume the worst. That he was a grass, or a fucking nonce, a poxy kiddy fiddler, or worse still that he had stolen off his own.

He suddenly realised with a stunning clarity that he had to kill Jimmy, if for no other reason than to make himself feel better, and also to make sure his son was safe for the future. Little Freddie might not be the child of his dreams but he was the child of his loins and as such he would see him all right.

He tried one last time to appeal to Jimmy's better nature. If it all went well he was back in and he would keep a low profile for a while until this all died down. If he was out then he would get his money's worth from this long streak of paralysed piss he had once called his kin.

'It was all a terrible tragedy, Jim, but he is my son. Can't you understand that?'

His voice sounded broken, and Jimmy had to give it to him, he was in the wrong profession. If ever anyone was born to be an actor it was Freddie Jackson.

'He is me boy and he has his whole life ahead of him. He is my son.'

Jimmy grabbed Freddie's jacket with such strength that Freddie was reminded of just how big this man actually was. Pushing him back against the bar he said angrily, 'And Jimmy Junior was my son, remember, and he's fucking dead. And you are dead as well, aren't you, dead and gone? You might as well be pushing up the fucking daisies now because I have already put the word on the pavement that you are to be blanked by one and all, and believe this, Freddie, you will be.'

Freddie knew he meant it, and he was still struggling to think how the fuck he was going to walk away from this train wreck without a scratch. He grinned then and, pulling himself up to his full height he backed away from Jimmy. Smoothing his clothes down as if he was the most fastidious person on earth he said snidely, 'You sure about that, about him being your son, I mean? After all, we all know he's dead, don't we?'

He was laughing and Jimmy felt the air leave his stomach as the words sank in.

Freddie picked up his drink and toasted Jimmy before saying, 'At least I hope he's dead, we planted him after all…'

His laughter was loud and it was genuine. Freddie actually thought that was funny, that it was a joke. Jimmy stared at the man he had loved and loathed over the years and realised suddenly that this was the real Freddie, that he had always been like this, this was exactly who he was. And he had produced another one just like him, a selfish, violent bully. He was suddenly thrilled to be Freddie's nemesis, thrilled to be able to dismantle this ponce's life and enjoy his decline from the security and safety of his own large gated residence. The less Freddie had going for him, the further he dragged him down, the more Jimmy knew he would feel better, and if not exactly assuaged, then at least compensated for his grief.

Freddie was roaring with laughter, and then he started shouting, 'Let me out, Dad, it's dark down here!'

He was imitating Jimmy Junior's voice, and as he listened Jimmy felt as if he was going to go mad with grief. 'You are unbelievable. Nothing is too low for you, is it, Freddie?'

'You got that right, and remember that for the future, won't you? But dad, now that's a good word, ain't it, Jim. Dad, help me, Dad, it's dark and damp and full of worms in this box.'

He kept repeating 'Dad' under his breath until he said jovially, 'But which one of us should be the one to help him, I wonder? Women talk see, and you two ain't produced any more chavvies, have you, Jimmy? A bit suspect that, don't you think? I have four with Jackie alone. That's without me "outside kids", as your pal Glenford would call them. You sure you ain't a fucking Jaffa, mate?'

His mirth was almost demonic in its intensity, and Jimmy knew Freddie was enjoying this, that he was really loving it. 'Remember when you announced to the world that Maggie was finally in the club, and I said to you then, if you remember rightly, "Are you sure you didn't have any help?"'

He was grinning. He was getting his revenge now, and it felt good. 'Why do you think Maggie, the little homemaker, rejected him, Freddie? You don't think it was because of who the father was, do you? All the time you thought you were stitching me up, I was shafting your old woman, mate.'

He was laughing again, louder this time, as if this was the most hilarious thing he had ever witnessed or heard.

'You cunt, Freddie, you fucking vicious cunt! But dream on by all means. My Maggie wouldn't touch you with a fucking barge pole.'

Freddie stopped laughing then because he knew he had him on the ropes, and he said seriously and demurely, but with that evil smile he had perfected over the years, 'Ask her, Jimmy, ask her about our little tryst. It was on your anniversary. You were licking the Blacks' arses in Scotland, and I was licking your wife. Got lovely tits, your Maggie, nice and plump and full, just how I like them.'

The heavy glass whisky bottle was smashed down on to Freddie's head in a split second. The strength of the blow was such it knocked Freddie on to his knees, and it had been so unexpected that he had not even had time to react to it and protect himself. This, he knew, was because Jimmy was at the peak of his anger.

Jabbing at Freddie with the broken bottle, Jimmy felt the warm spray of blood as he severed the carotid artery, and then he stabbed viciously over and over again.

He was swimming in a red mist of blood, and the smell was overpowering.

The anger in him was so acute that even when he knew Freddie was dead he still slashed at his face and head until he was unrecognisable. The need to hurt this man was so overwhelming that he actually felt sorrow when he realised that Freddie Jackson was really dead. It was too quick a death for him, but it had been gruesome, and that was some consolation.

Freddie's blood was everywhere, all over the bar area. The ceiling had been sprayed liberally with it and the floor, the dirty old pub carpet laid there in the late sixties and still maintaining a faint blue and gold pattern, was drenched in deep red sticky blood.

Jimmy felt lighter in himself than he had done in years.

He stopped, as suddenly as he had started. The high piercing screams of Melanie finally alerted him to what he had actually done. She had witnessed it all.

Now, standing there covered in Freddie's blood, Jimmy Jackson finally understood the immense power of anger and hatred. For a few moments, he knew, he had become Freddie Jackson.

Chapter Thirty-One

Maggie had been sitting in the police station for hours, but they were being very nice to her, which meant tea and coffee was offered at appropriate intervals.

Now, after five hours, she was finally being allowed to see her husband.

As she walked through to the interview room she felt a deep coldness inside her. The policeman smiled at her as he opened the door, and the heavy sound of it closing behind her made her jump, grated on her nerves.

Her husband was standing by a table and chairs. There was video equipment set up all over the place, and she was so on edge that she could actually smell the cup of coffee he had been given minutes earlier.

He looked well, and that surprised her, but he looked older somehow, which for some reason, made him look even handsomer.

This was such an alien environment for her that she was frightened at seeing him here, surrounded by all this electrical equipment and looking, for the first time ever, vulnerable.

Jimmy looked at her for long seconds before saying, 'I am sorry, babe.'

She smiled as best she could before she went into his arms and enjoyed the feel of him once more. 'Have they charged you?'

She felt him shaking his head and her heart started pounding in her chest, she felt faint for a few moments, and then it passed.

'They ain't got nothing. Don't worry, sweetheart, after forty-eight hours they either charge me or I am free to go.'

He was staring into her eyes and she was terrified that she wouldn't be able to hold his gaze. The guilt she was feeling over everything was weighing on her with a crushing heaviness that was almost physical in its pain. This was what she had been dreading for all these years, Jimmy finding out what had happened to her.

She knew for certain when she had looked at him that he was finally aware of what Freddie had done to her. Nothing else could have caused this much mayhem. If he had wanted Freddie dead for any other reason, then it would have happened quietly and without any kind of fanfare.

The fact he was holding her tightly told her he was still with her, still loved her, and so she said quietly, 'What happened, Jimmy?'

Jimmy looked into her eyes once more, then he kissed her softly on the lips. The feel of his gentle mouth was nearly her undoing.

'Remember this, Mags, little Jimmy was my son. I know that and you know that.'

She smiled sadly, 'I know that better than anyone, Jimmy.'

'He tried to break us, but he won't, mate, he weren't worth a wank, and neither is anything he ever said.'

She squeezed him to her then, knowing he had killed the person he had once loved more than anyone else in the world.

She only wished now she had let this all come out years ago. Her silence had ruined everyone's lives in the end, yet all she had ever wanted was to keep the peace, to protect everyone she loved from a man who she hoped was burning in hell at last.

Jackie was looking down on the body of her husband, and she was without tears. She had insisted on seeing him, even though she had been warned that he was not in a fit state to be seen, that he had serious head and neck injuries, and she would be well advised to let her father identify his body, so she could remember him how he was.

She had been on the verge of outright laughter, as the only thought that popped into her head was of her saying to these nice people, 'What, you mean, dirty, scruffy, drunk and drugged, and with a fucking bird on his arm?'

But she had not said it, she was aware she was getting the sympathy vote, and she was not about to fuck that up for herself. Her father was being lovely, and she wasn't going to do anything to upset him or anyone else for that matter.

But her first glance at Freddie's body had not sent her into convulsions or tears, as she had thought it would, it had just sobered her up. Now, as she looked at him and the obscene wounds that had been inflicted on him, she felt nothing but an odd calmness.

Looking down at him, knowing, seeing for herself, that he really was dead, she felt a weird elation washing over her. It was as if everything in her life had been careering at full speed towards this moment in time.

She felt the strangest feeling, as if she had won something.

She had known instinctively, from the first time she had kissed him, that she would one day have to look at his dead body. His temper would be his downfall, and his luck would eventually run out.

She had always assumed that he would pick on the wrong person one day, and either find himself up against someone with a will, and a temper much stronger than his, or someone with a huge fear of him and a sawn-off shotgun in their hand.

She had never in her wildest imagination dreamed that that person would be Jimmy.

She had also believed, that when it finally happened, and Freddie was gone from her, she would be destroyed. But she wasn't. In fact she was surprised with herself, because all she felt looking at his lifeless corpse, was a deep and abiding sense of euphoria.

She felt free.

She had always said to friends that it would be easier for her if Freddie died, rather than if he left her for someone else. She always joked that she could cope with that, with not being with him as long as no one else was.

While he was alive, and breathing, she could not bear the thought of him with anyone but her. Yet now he was gone, and his shagging days were over, she was almost happy inside, because he had died her husband, and that meant she was now his widow. All the women he had pursued over the years and all the girls he had given kids to were nothing to her now, because Freddie was gone, and he had gone while she was still his legal, his wife. Now she would never again have to worry about him, or where he was, or even wonder what he was doing.

All this business with Maggie could be conveniently forgotten, and her mother and father would have to allow her back into the fold. She would watch her P's and Q's, and make herself likable. She was no good on her own and she was going to need her family, and Maggie especially, as she had plenty of dosh as well as a very forgiving nature.

These were wonderful thoughts, and she was enjoying them.

Freddie would have left her eventually, she had always known that, and her life had been blighted because she had wondered, every day, if that was the day he would meet the love of his life.

And it would have happened in the end. He would have hit an age where he needed to prove himself, needed a young bird on his arm to make him feel young once more. He would have met one, the usual blaggers' bird, a tanned no neck with a council flat, who would be only too willing to play him, because he needed her youthful adoration and she had a killer body and a desperate need for the criminal limelight. Freddie would have succumbed to one of them in the end. All women in her position knew that.

She had been his bird once, many years ago, but four kids and Freddie Jackson as a husband had aged her before her time. Even if she had kept herself nice, had all the treatments, fought off age with a fucking hatchet, youth always won in their world.

It was what she had dreaded more than anything else. Without Freddie she was nothing, but as his widow, she would still have the honour of his name and the respect due to her because of his reputation.

Over the years she had socialised with sixty-year-old men who had children younger than their grandchildren and wives younger than their daughters. She had also observed many of the first wives as they were pushed aside like an old crisp packet. These were the women who had borne their husbands' children, visited them in prisons all over the country, who had loyally lied to the police and in some cases under oath for their men, and been happy to do it. Then suddenly, some little bird enters the frame, thin, with a fake tan, no stretchmarks, a Gossard bra and the conversation of a retarded orang-utan, and she was now the new significant other in his life.

Overnight, it was as if the first wife, the one who had struggled to keep things going when times were hard, and the kids were small, the one who had borrowed money off her family when things were tough and spent her youth defending her husband to everyone who told her he was a waster, and who should now be enjoying the benefit of her husband's hard graft, was dumped unceremoniously and it was suddenly as if she had never existed.

The older children either accepted the new bird because she was a permanent fixture now, not a quick booty call (those girls knew their place and had the sense to ignore the man when he was out with family), or they ended up not talking to their fathers, and by taking their mother's side they then put themselves up for a life of hurt and betrayal.

It was awful seeing the look in the women's eyes when you met them out shopping, or at their children's weddings. You could see the bewilderment and the pain and, worst of all, you could see the way people treated them now they had been discarded. They were barely tolerated. She had witnessed first-hand the humiliation on their faces if the husband was there with the new wife, who Jackie had noticed nearly always got drunk and caused a scene because even the woman he had left for them was seen as a threat.

She had been pleased to see that once the girl had got the man off the wife, she then had to live with the knowledge that it could easily happen to her too, and she did not have the benefit of the years together that the first wife did.

The pain in the women's faces as they watched the men they still loved with their new and improved models had always been painfully evident to Jackie, no matter how brave a face they put on it. These women, like her, eventually realised that they had devoted their lives to, and showered all their love on, a man who had no concept of what they had gone through over the years, and who felt no actual guilt for casually smashing their lives to pieces.

That had terrified her for years, the prospect of Freddie discarding her with about as much care and attention as he would a cigarette butt, or a used Durex.

Now all her fears of that happening were gone. All her worries were gone, and she felt as if she had just thrown off the weight of the world from her shoulders.

She was glad he was dead, because dead meant that she could finally love the rotten bastard in peace.

Kimberley and her two sisters were outside the police station having a cigarette with a very subdued Dicky.

They had brought their aunt something to eat. She had accepted it gratefully, and they were pleased to see that she was not treating them any differently than she had before this awful day.

The fact their father was dead had not really sunk in yet. They were still trying to get their heads around the knowledge that it was Jimmy who had murdered him.

They had all been questioned and had all said the same thing, that they had no idea what could have happened. Until they were given the nod, that was all they were prepared to say on the subject.

'Poor Dad.'

Dianna sounded so sad, and Kimberley hugged her younger sister tightly. 'Yeah, as you say, poor Dad.'

She looked at Rox and they exchanged glances that told Dicky they were not going to be mourning the man they called father for very long.

'Let's get back to Mum, eh? Look, Glenford has just pulled up in a black cab.'

Dicky walked over to him and the two men shook hands.

'It all being taken care of. Get the girls home now, OK?'

Dicky nodded. 'The brief's here at last, and she ain't half got some trap. We could hear her bollocking them all from out here.'

Glenford grinned. 'She good all right. They been looking for me all over me work places, so I am going in voluntarily now and get it over with. From what I can gather from a friend in the Met, they are pulling in all his known associates.'

Glenford threw his joint away carelessly and said on a laugh, as he walked off, 'Better not bring that in with me, eh?'

Dicky laughed with him. He was absolutely thrilled to be a part of something this big, and he knew that this was important to his standing in the future. He would be watched and judged by them all to see how he handled this event.

Well, like most people he had never been Freddie Jackson's biggest fan. He had to deal with him because he loved his daughter, and she was being a blinder.

She was upset but not surprised by the news her father had been found in Epping Forest naked, beaten and partially burned. He was still smouldering when a man out dogging had tripped over him while walking back to his car after an enjoyable time watching couples having sex on their back seats. A fitting end for Freddie Jackson, when you thought about it.

Melanie was still crying, and Liselle, who loved her niece dearly, was on the verge of smacking her one.

This was her own fault, and Liselle was bloody annoyed that her niece was at the centre of this mayhem. If Mel had not chased the bloody glamour of criminals and all they entailed, she would not be in this predicament now. She was a nice girl, and she had a lovely nature, but she was only ever going to be bird material. She had too much trap and too much flesh hanging out to ever be anything else.

She only hoped that this had taught Mel a lesson on life, and about fully comprehending the world you chose to live in, both the good bits, and the bad. You had to be a certain type of woman to survive in their world, and she knew that from personal experience. You had to understand the men, and you had to understand what they did, and what drove them to do it. If you didn't grow up in their world, or know the unwritten laws, you were no good to them. You had to have complete acceptance of how they lived their lives, so no matter what they did, or what they were accused of, you only cared about them getting off with it. Nothing else mattered.

You also needed to be able to keep your mouth shut, and never, ever volunteer information about any part of your husband's life to anyone, no matter who they were.

It was a good life if you knew how to play the game. She had been doing just that for many happy years with her Paul, and she wouldn't change a second of it.

Now that Melanie had an insight into what could happen when you were in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person, she might have a serious rethink about what she actually wanted out of life.

Paul sighed, and said to the distraught girl in as calm a voice as he could, 'Stop this, and listen to what I am telling you.'

Liselle went to the girl and slapped her across her face with all the force she could muster. 'For fuck's sake, will you stop fucking crying and listen to us. Do you understand how much shit you are in, girl?'

Melanie stared at her aunt with terrified eyes, and she finally stopped crying. Paul turned her to face him. 'Jimmy Jackson is a bad man. I would lay money on him being the baddest man in London, and you might be Liselle's niece, but that won't cut no fucking ice with him if you ever breathe one word of what you heard in the pub. This is serious, Melanie. You have to forget everything about what happened, right? It never happened. You are going on a long trip to Spain with Liselle tonight, and you will use the time there to empty your fucking brain. But I warn you, if you ever even hint that you saw or heard anything…'

He didn't finish what he was saying, because he could see from the utter terror in her big blue eyes that she would not repeat a thing to anyone. He only hoped she never forgot the fear she was feeling now, because she was in a very dangerous position. It was only the bit of blood she shared with his wife that had allowed her to pass go and collect two hundred.

Jimmy had not asked him to do anything, he didn't need to, Paul was a clearer-upper of unavoidable messes. That was what he was paid extremely well for and in the normal scheme of things he would have got someone to take care of this girl to guarantee her silence.

Liselle, bless her, was very tolerant of his work, but he knew she would draw the line at her niece going on the missing list.

Still, the girl had learned a valuable lesson. He hoped so, anyway. Liselle would talk her round over the next few weeks and reiterate the danger she would place herself in with a careless remark or a drunken statement.

It was late and he was tired. It had been a long old day.

Lena and Jackie were sitting together in Jackie's house, and for once Jackie was almost rational. The girls were in the kitchen making tea and sandwiches, and they were trying to digest the events of the last couple of days. They all knew that they had to keep any thoughts they might have to themselves. It was better for everyone that way.

It was nearly morning now. The light was creeping across the sky, and Jackie was pissed, but she was happy pissed. Lena said to her quietly, 'Tell me the truth, did you speak to Jimmy about you know what?'

Jackie looked at the woman she loved, and whom she had always felt treated her as second best and she said, scornfully, 'You know what?'

Lena closed her eyes in distress. 'Listen to me, and listen good, Jackie. You and the girls have to forget about what was said, do you hear me?'

Jackie sighed heavily and slumped down in the chair, her ample breasts suddenly lying on her belly.

Lena saw that she looked older than her years, that in itself was nothing new. But she also seemed a lot more relaxed somehow.

'Don't worry, Mum. I won't cause any trouble, I promise you.'

Lena was surprised at her daughter's answer and this showed on her face.

'I know he did it, Mum, I know what he was better than anyone, but it didn't matter to me. I loved him, see.'

Lena grabbed her daughter's hand and squeezed it tightly. 'I know you did, love.' She didn't add, God knows why, but the thought was in her head just the same.

'Now he is dead, I feel all light, as if a weight has gone off me. Does that make sense, Mum? I ain't glad he's dead, but I ain't sorry about it either.'

Lena understood what she was saying far better than her daughter realised.

'The newscaster on the telly said it was a gangland murder. He looked awful, Mum. Whoever did it done a fucking good job, I can tell you.'

Lena sighed again at the things this daughter said, but kept hold of her hand.

'I will miss him, but I feel really strange, Mum. I feel almost happy, and that is wrong, but I can't help it. I feel like I can finally relax. I realised today that I never ever relaxed, Mum, not properly, and now I just am relaxed. Does that make sense?'

Lena nodded and hugged her daughter. 'It's because you were so besotted with him. The love you had for him was almost like a mania, and you know something, Jackie? I would watch you sometimes, and my heart would break for you, because I knew you were hurting, and you were hurting because of your love. Love is supposed to make you happy, child, and your love for Freddie never did that. Now he's gone, of course you can finally relax, because for the first time since he came out of nick, you will know exactly where he is twenty-four hours of the day.'

She hugged her daughter gently to her again. 'I won't be a hypocrite. I never liked him, you know that, but I am heart sorry for you, for losing him, and I will always be there for you, and so will your dad. We might fight and argue, but we are family at bottom, eh?'

Jackie smiled sadly. 'I wonder if they've let Jimmy out yet.'

'We'll know as soon as anything happens, don't worry.'

Little Freddie watched his mother and his nana and wondered at the way everyone in this house seemed to thrive on emotional outbursts. His father's murder had not affected him at all, but he would still milk it for all it was worth. He would also keep a low profile where his granddad was concerned. He felt as if he could look right through him, and this made Little Freddie both wary and nervous, two emotions he had never experienced before.

But he knew that his granddad had sussed him out, and he was sensible enough to play this new development very carefully. Caution was his new watchword.

The girls came in and made a fuss as they fed him bacon sandwiches and drinks of Diet Coke. He looked suitably upset, and managed to watch his favourite videos in relative peace and quiet.

Jimmy got out of the shower and walked through to the huge bedroom. This room had once filled him with pleasure, and the house had been the culmination of everything he had ever wanted from his life. Now it was just a house, like any other. Homes were not just bricks and mortar, they were about the people who lived inside them.

Maggie was sitting on the giant bed. She looked very small and very vulnerable, and he loved the very bones of her, more now than at any other time in their life.

She passed him a glass of brandy and he sipped it before saying happily, 'Am I glad to get the smell of that police station off me. It stank in there.'

She didn't answer him, and he sat beside her on the bed, and grabbing her leg in a jovial way, he said loudly, 'Are we not talking, then?'

Maggie knelt up and pushing her hands through her hair she said quietly, 'Stop this, Jimmy, we have to talk about what's happened. I know you killed Freddie, I knew it was you as soon as I heard about it. Now you are acting like it's a normal day, and it ain't, you can't go through the rest of your life pretending that nothing happened. You think that if you pretend it didn't happen you won't have to deal with it, or the consequences. But I can't do that. I need to get this all out in the open once and for all.'

Jimmy got up and walked to the window. It was going to be a nice day, it was the best time, he always thought, the early morning.

'He raped me, Jimmy, and you have to look at me and tell me you don't hold it against me because I didn't tell you about it.'

He didn't turn towards her and she felt the sickness inside her once more. But she couldn't do this any more. She would rather he went and left her than pretend they were OK. Secrets had nearly destroyed her and her family, and she was not going to live like that any longer.

'Who told you about it, Jimmy? Jackie?'

He did turn then. 'Jackie knew about it and I fucking didn't?'

He was angry now and she was shaking her head in denial. 'She found out by accident the other day. Kimberley told her, she had overheard him taunting me at little Jimmy Junior's funeral. Kim let the cat out of the bag in anger, she never meant to cause any trouble. Did Jackie tell you, Jimmy? I have to know.'

He shook his head and the droplets of water were cold as they hit her bare arms. He was everything she had ever wanted, and now he was all she had left.

'He was taunting you at the boy's funeral?'

She nodded brokenly. 'I was terrified of what you would do if you knew, and of Jackie's reaction. You know how jealous she was of him, Jimmy, she would have lost her mind and caused trouble for us all. I was only trying to keep the peace. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone involved…'

He retied the towel he was wearing around his waist and then he walked out of the room without a word.

She heard him as he padded down the stairs. She lay down on the bed, the bed she had shared with him for so long, and she was so upset, she couldn't even cry.

In the kitchen, Jimmy opened the fridge and got himself a beer. He was angry again. The thought of Freddie touching his Mags was hard enough, but to know he had taunted her with it was too much to bear. All those years they had been together, all the time he had spent with Freddie, helped him out, drunk with him, had him in his home, and he was laughing at him, he was laughing up his sleeve at him because that silly bitch upstairs had tried to keep the peace!

Her and her getting it all out in the open… if only she knew what had happened to her little boy. She wouldn't be able to live with that, so he was not going to force the knowledge on her, unlike her, who wasn't happy unless she was dragging the guts out of everything, analysing every fucking sentence that was said to her.

He didn't want to talk to her about it. Why couldn't she understand that, for him, it was too much information? He was better off not talking it over, not fucking knowing all the ins and outs of the cat's arse.

Once things were said out loud they were out there for ever, and some things were best left unsaid. It didn't mean that he didn't care, or that he didn't understand. It just meant he could cope with things better if he was allowed to digest it all in his own time, and at his own pace.

He couldn't look at her now, not in the same way. She had spoiled herself for him, and she should have known that. She was his wife, and she should have known him well enough to leave well alone. He had felt sorry for her, he had felt so very sorry for her, but now he felt nothing but anger and spite towards her.

He knew as soon as Freddie told him about his so-called tryst that he had to have forced himself on Maggie, there would not have been any other way for him to take her. But it had been the way he had insinuated that Jimmy Junior was his child that had caused his death, because he had believed him. It didn't matter, he had loved that boy and that would never change, but Maggie going through all that for years, living with him and his innuendos and his fucking laughing face, that was, at this moment, too much for Jimmy to bear.

He raced up the stairs and Maggie jumped in fright as he stormed into the bedroom. Grabbing her roughly by her arms, he shouted into her face, 'Thanks to you, that ponce was laughing at me for years. I was the butt of his jokes and I was not in any way aware of it. I had no fucking idea that he was taking the piss out of me, you stupid fucking mare.'

He threw her away from him and she lay there terrified as he dragged on his clothes. Then he looked at her and said, 'You weren't doing it for me, you were doing it for that scab you call a sister. I fucking done him, you believe me when I tell you I done him up like a fucking kipper, and I was all right about what had happened. I knew he would have to have forced you, I knew that without a second's doubt. But I tell you now, Maggie, you and him between you have fucking destroyed me. You spent all this time knowing what he meant and listening to him saying all those things to me, and you still didn't fucking feel like you should tell me what was going on. I feel like the cunt of the year, and you took me for the biggest cunt of all. If for no other reason, you should have let me in on your big secret at the time it happened, so I would at least have been aware of it when he was taking the piss out of me.'

Maggie was sitting up now and shaking her head in distress. She understood that all his real feelings were coming out.

Jimmy was good at hiding things, that was why he did so well in his chosen occupation. In the police station he had told her in no uncertain terms that he knew everything, and that he never wanted to discuss it. If you didn't talk about it, then it never happened was an old maxim of his.

Now she had forced him to confront what had happened, it had backfired on her and she wished with all her heart she had not started this.

She saw it now from his point of view. He was suddenly remembering every little thing that Freddie had said, all the slights, all the innuendos, and putting them in their proper context. For someone of his dignity and his self-belief, that would eat at him, gnaw at his very soul, and she had caused this pain. She had kept it secret and it had nearly destroyed them. Then she had forced it out into the open and that had been the catalyst for the total destruction of their lives.

He looked at her as she sat there crying, and he felt the urge to strangle her. He was angrier with her than he had ever been in all their time together.

'Jackie was all you cared about, all your life it's been about her. I have had to put up with her every fucking Christmas, every fucking holiday. It was her you were more worried about, and that is what I am so fucking angry about. I can't face the truth like you, Maggie. I would rather do me ostrich impression. You should have left me alone. Stopped fucking pushing me. You wanted this all out in the open, well now it is. I hope you are fucking happy now. You got what you wanted, Mags, you finally know what I really think.'

With that he left the house and she heard his car screech off the drive.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jimmy woke up to the feeling of a soft moist mouth on his erection, and he sighed tiredly. He didn't have the heart to tell the girl that it was only a morning glory, a piss proud. She tried her hardest but he was deflating at an alarming rate. In the end she looked up at him, and he smiled as he said, 'Better luck next time, eh?'

She grinned and jumped off the bed. He watched her lazily as she grabbed her belongings and slipped from the room.

That was the beauty of prostitutes, all they wanted was what you wanted, no more and no less. No long-winded fucking conversations, and no fucking harping on about their families or their problems or their poxy lives.

He felt bad now, though, and that annoyed him even more. He was sleeping with anything that moved, and that was only accomplished with the aid of alcohol and, more recently, Viagra.

He yawned again, and he realised he could smell himself. Jumping out of the bed he slipped his clothes on and made his way downstairs.

Patricia shook her head at him as if he was a naughty boy. 'I hope you fucking paid the poor whore, they ain't working for nix, you know.'

Jimmy gave her a lazy, annoying smile. 'What's it to you, Pat? This is my place. I own them all in one way or another.' He didn't mean it, he was just trying to antagonise her. 'Are you going to Freddie's funeral, then?' He shook his head nonchalantly. 'Why, are you?' Jimmy left the house then, pleased he had got a rise out of her. He drove back to Glenford's quickly. He was desperate for a shower and a change of clothes.

Jackie and her girls were all together in the church. Little Freddie was still outside, and Jackie knew he was chainsmoking cigarettes.

The body had finally been released, and his murder was just another crime that was classed as unsolved. Hardly a soul had turned up for the funeral. Her mother was coming, his wasn't, no surprise there. Nor was her father, and no wreaths had been delivered anywhere. This didn't upset her, it annoyed her. There was a subtle difference.

But once the day was over she could start a new life, that was what she kept telling herself. It was all that got her through the nights.

She surveyed her daughters. They were beautiful girls and she was proud of them. She had never really bothered with them before, but now she saw them all the time and she actually knew about their lives and their thoughts.

Freddie's influence over the house was gone, and she was enjoying the freedom that not being in love brought her.

She would pop over Maggie's tomorrow, see how she was faring. She did not expect her here today anyway, but she had offered to go if that was what Jackie really wanted, and she had been pleased about that. Been pleased that Maggie cared enough to do something like that for her. But she had assured her sister that she would be all right with her girls, that they would see her through it.

She wished they would hurry up and get started. She was dying for a drink and she had a lot to do today. This was the most important day of her life, at least that was how she felt about it though she wasn't so sure her family would agree. She had never buried her husband before. This was a definite first in her book.

The priest was looking at his notes and she hoped that he got Freddie's name right. It was not as if he had known him, after all.

Glenford was leaving the house when he saw Jimmy's car racing up the road. So he went back inside and put the kettle on. He had time for a coffee, that was the good thing about their lives. You never had to live by the clock like most people did. You could pick and choose your hours. It was one of the life's main attractions.

Jimmy walked into the little kitchen and his bulk took up the whole room. 'All right, Glenford!' He was smiling and laughing as usual. 'You know Freddie gets planted today?'

'No, never heard a word. Who told you?'

'Ugly Pat. She ain't going, anyway.'

Jimmy yawned loudly, and taking a joint from the ashtray he lit it up and toked deeply on it before saying, 'I am fucking knackered. I have to get me head together today, though. I am going to visit Oz tomorrow and I have a few things to get sorted first.'

'You look like shit, Jimmy.'

He grinned. 'I feel like it and all, don't worry.'

'You spoke to Maggie yet?'

Jimmy looked at his friend and shrugged. 'No point, nothing to say.'

'It's been two months, Jimmy. What the fuck you and her argued about I don't know, but if you leave it much longer there will be no going back. The longer you leave things the harder they become.'

'You are preaching to the converted, mate. Now let me drink me coffee and smoke me spliff without feeling like I am on the sofa with Lorraine Kelly. Not that I would knock her back if she gave me half a chance!'

Glenford laughed despite himself. 'Have you been to the pub yet? It's nearly finished. Paul said it looks too nice for his usual clientele, which includes us, I suppose.'

Jimmy laughed with his friend once more, and a few minutes later Glenford shot off. His smiling façade slipped away immediately.

'You need anything else done today, Mrs Jackson?'

Lily Small had been cleaning Maggie's house for five years, and she felt that they had a rapport. She came in five times a week and she cleaned the place from top to bottom, and she had sussed out ages ago that Mr Jackson had left his wife.

Mrs Jackson was putting a good face on it all, but Lily had seen the weight drop off her and the frown lines appear as if by magic. Losing that lovely little boy was hard enough, and maybe the strain had been too much for them. She could understand that, it was still too raw even for her, so God knew how this poor cow must be feeling.

She would give her eye teeth to know what Mr Jackson had done, if he had done anything of course, but trying to get anything out of this woman was impossible. She was tighter than a duck's arse that had been superglued.

'Can I iron Mr Jackson's shirts?'

Maggie smiled then. She gave old Lily points for perseverance anyway. She could make Mo Slater look like a deaf mute, but before assassinating her nearest relatives or her neighbours, people whom Maggie had never met nor would want to, Lily would puff up her ample chest, pull on her cigarette and say the magic words that had made both Maggie and Jimmy roar with laughter once she had left the premises: 'I am not one to gossip as you both know, but…'

Now, as she stood there trying to glean even a smidgeon of information on her employers' predicament, she repeated her question, eyebrows raised and cigarette hovering near her orange-painted mouth. 'Well, shall I iron Mr Jackson's shirts? I know just how he likes them.'

'If you like, Lily.'

Maggie knew she was annoying the poor woman but it was the principle of it all. Her life was hers, and she had no intention of gossiping with anyone, let alone Lily, whose lips, Jimmy used to joke, were looser than a Scandinavian whore's. Even her poor mother had given up trying to find out what was wrong, so Lily had no chance.

Maggie understood what Jimmy had meant now. If she didn't tell anyone then it had not happened. If he came back, no one would know anything and they could just get on as normal. He was right, sometimes things were best left unsaid, it made it easier to live with them somehow.

She poured herself a cup of tea and took it through to the conservatory. She had piles of paperwork to get done and now was as good a time as any. The salons were all doing well, extremely well in fact, and this knowledge didn't have the normal effect on her. Instead of a quiet pride, she had no real interest in anything. Every day he was away from her, she died a little bit more inside.

She had not heard one word from him, and she had not attempted to contact him either. Money was still piling up in the bank so she just carried on as usual, but the loneliness was getting to her, and no matter how tired she felt, as soon as she got into bed, her brain went into overdrive and she relived two separate days of her life, over and over again.

Her son's death, and the absolute grinding grief that it caused, and the day her Jimmy had walked out on her.

She imagined how she should have played it, reminded herself that if she had only kept up the pretence as she had until then, he would still be with her. They were both grieving for their child, and she should have left it all until they were feeling stronger emotionally. Until they could walk into his little room without breaking down, until the raw pain had eased.

For the first time in her life, she understood her sister's jealousy of other women. She tortured herself with visions of him making love to another woman. Loving them, as he had once loved her.

She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and she couldn't rest.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

'Come on, Mum, eat something.'

Kimberley was looking at Jackie with that worried frown she had come to love. She was a good girl, her Kim, and she had not been as good a mother as she could have been. That bothered her these days, and she tried to be nice to them all, nicer than usual.

Since Freddie's death, the girls had been like proper troopers, they had really taken good care of her and their little brother. She was amazed at how well they had turned out.

She knew in her heart that it was Maggie's influence that had helped her girls become what they were, but she didn't feel the usual anger or the jealousy about that. She no longer felt as if she was being compared to everyone, and she didn't feel the pressure of her failings either.

Now, she had made her mind up. She had made decisions and she had been pleased with herself for finally taking control of her life.

'It was a lovely service, weren't it, Mum?'

'It was lovely, darling, and you were all lovely as well.'

Dianna's face was gorgeous, she was a real little sweetie. Even Kim had never looked better. And Rox was getting a nice little lump and, unlike herself, she was making sure her body was not going to be blown out of all recognition, she was taking care of herself. Rox wouldn't hear the man of her dreams, her child's father, saying, 'Fuck me, girl, you look like something from a Hammer horror!' Her girls, they were like film stars, and Jackie only wished now that she had taken up Maggie's offers of beauty treatments and slimming consultations years ago. But even her sister's offering of them had felt like criticism, and so she had not gone. She had cut her own nose off, and now her face was well and truly spited! She wanted to laugh at her own thoughts, but she knew she mustn't.

Once this day was over, she would finally be able to sleep, a real deep and comfortable sleep like she had experienced as a child, she was sure of that. It was what she needed and she knew it would do her the power of good, because in her dreams Freddie was back with her, and they were happy. They were deliriously happy, and she was slim, and didn't drink, and he had eyes for no one but her.

That was why she wanted to get the sleep back. She needed those dreams to help her heal.

As she smiled at her son he nodded at her, and she watched as he left the house. He would be missing his dad. He had loved him so much, unlike his feelings for her. She was painfully aware that the child had never liked her and, if she was honest, she didn't really like him that much either.

Freddie Jackson Junior was walking to a friend's house when he saw two of his little neighbours walking on the pavement opposite. He hated Martin Collins. He was eleven years old and small for his age, but he had a way with him that made him popular with everyone. His brother Justin looked after him, and Freddie was interested to see how far he was willing to go to achieve that end.

Little Freddie crossed over the road and caught up with them. Martin Collins looked at him warily.

'All right?'

Martin nodded cautiously. 'Yeah, you?'

Little Freddie grinned. 'Got any money?'

Justin Collins was nervous. He was older than Freddie Jackson, but he was not as big and he was not as aggressive.

Martin shook his head. 'No, I ain't got any money, Freddie.'

Freddie stared at the boy for long calculated moments before he drew out a long, thin-bladed knife. He watched in glee as the two boys stepped back in fright, and when Justin pushed his little brother behind him he laughed. 'Looking after the wimp, are you?'

'Leave him alone. I mean it, Jackson, go and pick on someone your own age.'

'And if I don't, what are you going to do about it?'

Cars were flying past them and the smell of diesel was thick in the air.

An old man was watching the little tableau from his flat window. He was deciding if he should call the police when the bigger boy, that Jackson lad whose father had been murdered, stabbed the blond boy in the heart.

Martin was screaming in fear as his brother lay on the filthy pavement clutching his chest. Blood was everywhere and Freddie Jackson was watching it flow as if he was in a trance. Then he snapped his head towards Martin and said quietly, 'Now give me some money.'

Martin handed over the two pounds fifty his mother had given them to go and get her a paper and ten cigarettes from the corner shop.

As Freddie Jackson Junior walked away the shrill sound of sirens could be heard coming over the Barking flyover.

Justin Collins died ten minutes later in the ambulance.

'Are you sure you will be all right, Mum?'

Jackie forced a smile on to her face and only just managed to prevent herself from screaming at them. She knew they meant well, but she wished they would leave her alone sometimes.

'I just want to get into bed and have a sleep, that's all. I am exhausted, it's been a hard few months and whatever he was or he wasn't, I loved your father more than anything. I want to lay here alone and think about him, all right?'

The three girls nodded in unison, and then they all took turns to kiss her good night even though it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.

Downstairs they saw their nana on a mobile and the sight made them all laugh. She hushed them all with a hand gesture as she walked out the front door to finish her call.

'That was so funny.'

The girls laughed again, and Kimberley sighed. 'She ain't right, is she? She is almost nice.'

Roxanna grinned. 'I know it's a bit disturbing at times, but it can only be a good thing. It seems weird thinking we buried our dad today, don't you think?'

She was pouring herself a mineral water, while her sisters were drinking white wine. They all sat on the large, battered sofa and looked around the room which, thanks to their hard work, was clean and shiny.

Dianna started to cry again.

'Oh, come here, you poor little mare.'

Kimberley hugged her sister, who said, through her tears, 'What a terrible way to die. I keep thinking of him being murdered…'

Rox shook her head. 'We told you not to read the papers or listen to the news. You can't let what happened to him get to you, babe, he was not a saint, as we all know. In his world, it's almost an occupational hazard, and you have to accept that or you will never get back on track.'

Since the revelation about poor Maggie, any feelings Rox might have harboured for the man who had sired her were long gone, but she was not going to make her sister's grief any worse than it already was.

'But who would do something like that to our dad? Why ain't the police out looking for them?'

Rox and Kimberley exchanged looks over Dianna's head. They had their own ideas about that but they were keeping them close to their chests. They were upset about what had happened, of course, but unlike Dianna they were realists and they privately wondered how it had not happened long before. Freddie had more enemies than Vlad the Impaler and he made a point of goading them at every opportunity. Dianna was like their mother. She saw only what she wanted to see in people, especially when she was dealing with her father, who in fairness had loved her more than the other two since the moment he got out of prison.

As Kim and Rox had started to see their father for what he really was, they had been pleased that no real connection had ever been made between them. He was a vicious bully who had destroyed everyone who came into his orbit.

They were glad he was gone. Now they could all finally live in peace.

Jimmy drove along at a snail's pace, and pondered the call he had received from Lena two hours earlier. It was the first time he had heard from any of the family since his departure, and he had initially felt very awkward because he had practically lived at her house as a kid. He was wrong to have blanked her and Joe along with Maggie. He thought the world of them, and they reciprocated that affection.

Lena had not said anything about that, but her call had thrown him into a quandary. He also knew that she was right when she had made him promise never to tell Maggie she had contacted him. Maggie was like him in that respect, her pride would not appreciate the gesture, however well meant.

As he turned off the M25 and made towards his house he felt nervous. The feeling was alien to him these days, but as Glenford had said, the longer he left it, the harder it would become.

Now he was ashamed of his silence – she was his wife after all. But after a week's angry silence, he had not heard from her and so he had done what most men do. He had fed his anger, nurtured it, and eventually it had been a month and more and he could find no excuse to call her and he convinced himself that she could just as easily call him if she wanted him. But he knew that he had walked away from her, and in their marriage that meant he had to make contact.

If Lena had not called him he would never have made the first move, and if what Lena said was true, he would have regretted it all his life.

Once he saw Maggie, looked at her, he would know finally whether he could ever live with her again in peace and happiness. The flip side was that he might instead realise instinctively that he couldn't. If he couldn't put the images that tortured him out of his head their marriage would be finally and irretrievably over.

He pulled into the car park of his local pub. He needed to think this through, and he needed a drink to help him muster up some courage.

The knock on the door was heavy and unexpected. Even on the day of their father's funeral no one had bothered to come to offer either their condolences or respects, and the girls had been sensible enough not to have expected it anyway.

Roxanna assumed it was Little Freddie back from his jaunt. She opened the door wide to see two uniformed policemen and two CIDs. Plain-clothes police had always been referred to by her father as coppers in disguise, dressed up like real people. The thought popped into her head and she wanted to laugh. Her natural-born animosity for the police was straight to the fore though and she said sarcastically, 'If you are after me father, you're too late. We buried him today.'

The taller of the two plain clothes stepped forward then and, flashing his badge, which for all she knew could be a bus pass he had done it so quickly, said in a deep and serious tone, 'I am DCI Michael Murray, and I am looking for a Freddie Jackson all right, but it's the son this time.'

Roxanna said in annoyance, 'Oh, have a day off, will you, and leave us to grieve in peace.'

'Is he on the premises, Miss Jackson?'

This Murray was starting to get on her tits. 'What is he supposed to have done now? He was at his dad's funeral most of the day so I think you will find he has a cast-iron alibi.'

Roxanna was feeling incensed. Of all the days to come knocking… and then she noticed there were three squad cars parked up and they were all holding uniforms.

'What's going on? He is only a kid, what are you doing round here mob-handed? Don't tell me he's being accused of robbing a fucking bank! Come on, what's he supposed to have done?'

'He is wanted in relation to a fatal stabbing that occurred earlier this afternoon by the Roundhouse public hostelry.'

His convoluted language made it hard for her to work out what he was saying, but two words stuck out like moose horns. 'A stabbing?'

The incredulity in her voice was communicating itself to the policewoman standing behind Murray, and who was sorry for this pretty girl who had just buried her father. 'We sympathise with your loss, miss, but it is imperative that we locate him as soon as possible. We have a warrant to search the premises.'

Murray looked at the WPC with open hostility. Her civil tone and friendly approach were highly unsuitable when dealing with this particular family. He couldn't wait until the girl had her first experience of Jackie Jackson. Now that would be a sight worth seeing.

Jackie had stood on this very step with a baseball bat before now. Even his most hardened officers were very loath to approach her and they had done their time keeping the peace at Upton Park. They would rather face a herd of screaming West Ham supporters than Jackie Jackson with a few drinks inside her.

Still, the warrant had got them an invite, so he walked in warily, expecting a lunatic in a black dress in honour of the occasion, and wielding some form of weapon. Instead he was pleasantly surprised to see Lena Summers, whom he had known since his beat days, and the other two Jackson girls.

'Where's Jackie?' All formality was gone from him now. This was serious and he wanted to know the answer so he could take the appropriate precautions.

'She is asleep upstairs,' Lena told him, watching as the house slowly filled up with the uniforms. All she could think of was her husband's predictions concerning their grandson. He said Little Freddie would end up killing someone and she had no doubt whatever that he had finally done it. Filth didn't come round this quick, with a warrant and enough uniforms to have a stance unless they had one eyewitness at least.

Poor Jackie, today of all days.

'Go and wake your mum up, Kim. They will be tearing the place apart soon looking for him or the weapon. Bless her heart, as if she ain't got enough to contend with.'

Murray grinned then. 'I think this WPC can have that honour. The main bedroom is the third door on the left.'

Rox smiled as the young woman walked up the stairs. Like Murray and the other old hands, she was intrigued to see how her mother took this latest interruption from the police.

They were not disappointed. The girl screamed loudly, and Murray only stopped chuckling when she bent over the landing and vomited all over him.

Lily brought through a pot of decaffeinated coffee and a sandwich. Smiling her thanks, Maggie finally sat back in her chair and stretched her aching muscles. As always Lily sat opposite her, ready to give her an update on all the people she now knew intimately but had never met.

Paperwork was Maggie's friend these days. It was the only thing that took her mind off her troubles, and she delayed Lily's chat by busily gathering all the papers together in a neat pile.

The phone rang and she picked it up, saying in a tired voice, 'Hello.'

Lily was amazed to see her drop the phone a few seconds later, then lean back in the chair with her hand over her mouth, rocking herself back and forth. An awful wailing sound was coming out of her, and as Lily was to regale to her family later that night, it sounded like nothing on this earth. It was frightening to see her employer reacting so strangely to what was obviously bad news of some kind, and poor Mrs Jackson had had more than her fair share of bad news these last few months.

A few minutes later she was relieved to see Mr Jackson come through the front door. He rushed to his wife and, as Lily later told her gobsmacked family in as dramatic a tone as possible, Mrs Jackson clung to him as if her life was dependent on him being there. Though Lily Small didn't know it, that was a very true and accurate statement.

Rox was still trying to hold on to the contents of her stomach, and Dicky was holding her tightly while at the same time trying to drive the car to Maggie's house. Dianna and Kimberley were in the back with poor Lena who should never have had to witness the sight of her daughter dead in her bed, her wrists cut and a plastic bag over her head.

What was it with this lot and fucking plastic bags? First little Jimmy, and now her.

Dicky was starting to get a bit shirty now. These Jacksons made fucking Job look like a lottery winner. Now Rox was in the club, he was working for Jimmy, her favourite uncle, and who also happened to be the local Mr Big, and he was starting to think that they were all fucking jinxed. He was now wondering if he should have given himself a bit more time before he got so involved with them all. But he could hardly walk out on Rox now she had a belly full of arms and legs.

As much as he loved her, this was all getting a bit too mad for him, and he considered himself a hard nut, able to deal with anything that life threw at him. Well, it was throwing fucking missiles at this lot at the moment, and he was not happy about putting himself in the line of fire.

He was gratified to see Jimmy's car on the drive. At least another man would be there and he could get himself a few more Brownie points with him, so the whole day wouldn't be fucking wasted.

Poor old Lena, though, his heart went out to her. She had shown no real reaction at all, and he hoped that old Joe arrived soon because she looked distinctly iffy. All he needed now was for her to drop down dead with shock and they could keep the match ball.

This was fucking outrageous, the most outrageous day of his life. Dicky had never really experienced the Jacksons' intricate and dangerous family connections, and now he was getting an insight into them he was wise to be wary.

Maggie was crying when he brought Rox indoors. The girl was still clinging to him for dear life and it was only when she peeled herself off him and sank into her aunt's arms that he could finally have a fag in peace and rub his aching neck muscles. His watchword for today was definitely fucking outrageous. It was all he kept saying, over and over again.