He had to wait for hours, but it didn’t bother him. Jack Ellison had long been a patient man. When Ben left him, he set off at a quick pace to the terraced street where Mickey Jones rented a room in his aunt’s house. He waited on the corner, sinking back into the shadows, leaning against the brick wall where the street curved into the alley that ran behind the terraced yards. There were no streetlamps, and as the hours ticked by the dying light took on a sickly yellow hue before fading to grey and gradually lapsing into the silvered ink of night. The shadows embraced him and claimed him as their own. And still he waited.

His heart throbbed faster when he finally heard Mickey’s voice in the distance, but his stomach knotted as it became apparent he was not alone. All his careful planning, his patience, hung on a thread as he peered down the dark street. Frustration balled inside him.

But then, just as he could have wept for the injustice of it all, Mickey’s companion dropped away, his departing words growing fainter, lost to the neighbouring street. Mickey called out a farewell. Then he walked on alone.

Jack’s heart was beating at such a rate he was almost heady on the blood pulsating through his veins. His breaths shortened. He could practically smell Mickey Jones he was so close. He risked a glance up the street. There was no one around and curtains were drawn at the overlooking windows. A scrawny cat slunk across the alley and then it too was gone. Only he and the unsuspecting Mickey remained.

Jack stepped from the shadows into his path. The other man was startled; bleary eyes squinted against the gloom. Jack caught a waft of rancid breath and his insides heaved.

‘For fuck’s sake …’ Mickey muttered, but his words died as his sight sharpened. ‘Ah, now listen, Jack …’

But the incident in the pub had forewarned him and the words were simply a ruse for his rapid jab into Jack’s stomach. Jack buckled, the wind knocked out of him, and before he could recover, Mickey’s meaty knuckles slammed upwards through his chin. He reeled back, his head exploding in pain as he lost his balance and fell.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Mickey hissed. He hawked noisily before spitting on Jack’s sprawled body. Hitching up his trousers, he stepped around him.