When David answered his front door, his hair was messy and his clothes creased. Peter smelt the faint odour of BO and guessed that David hadn’t showered and was probably still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He screwed up his face in disgust.

‘Heavy night, was it?’ Peter asked scathingly as he and Glynn stepped inside.

David looked down at his crumpled clothing. ‘Yeah,’ he laughed. ‘Fuckin’ great night. I crashed out on the sofa.’

They walked through to the lounge.

‘D’you wanna drink?’ David asked.

‘No, thanks,’ said Peter, his nostrils twitching at the stench of the place.

‘This isn’t a social visit anyway,’ added Glynn.

A look of unease flashed across David’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Sit down!’ ordered Peter. ‘We need to talk.’

David did as he was told while Peter and Glynn remained standing.

‘Right, for a start, do you wanna tell me why you’ve been seeing so much of Steve Miller?’ Peter asked, his tone harsh.

‘I haven’t. What you on about?’

‘You’ve been meeting him in the Sportsman’s. And from what I’ve been told, you’ve been getting pretty fuckin’ cosy.’

‘No, I haven’t. That’s a lie,’ David protested. Then he looked up at Glynn. ‘Did he tell you this?’

‘Never mind who fuckin’ told me!’ Peter snapped. ‘I’ve heard it from more than one person. And, from what I’ve heard, you’ve met him a few times.’

‘That’s bullshit! I don’t have owt to do with him.’

‘You sure?’ asked Peter, ‘Only, from what I’ve been told, you and him even use the same fuckin’ supplier!’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who he scores from. I don’t have anything to do with the guy.’

David’s voice had taken on an alarmed tone now as he watched Glynn alternately balling his hands into fists then cracking his knuckles. Peter nodded to Glynn, who walked over to the sofa and dragged David off it by the scruff of his neck.

‘Get your fuckin’ hands off me!’ David yelled.

Peter nodded again and Glynn responded by belting David while keeping a grip on him with his other hand. The punch landed squarely on David’s jaw and he pulled back, clutching his face. He tried to wriggle free but Glynn kept hold of him, his large hands crushing David’s flesh.

‘Get your fuckin’ hands off me!’ David repeated, his arms flailing wildly about as he tried to break free of Glynn’s grasp.

Glynn landed another sharp punch to his nose. Blood spurted from David’s nostrils, and Glynn wiped his knuckles in disgust.

‘They’re lying!’ David shouted. ‘Whoever told you is lying.’

Glynn hit him again repeatedly until Peter signalled for him to stop and Glynn stood aside. ‘Tell the fuckin’ truth, David, or he’ll carry on hitting you!’