As he came out, Kevin Milne tried to look defiant, but the mothers could smell something was up, even without the baseball cap and the hoody. Maybe they knew what he was. It was as if they had been waiting for a sign. Now it was here and everything fell into place. Whispers began to circulate as the boy and his mother moved over to enter the police car. Crowds seemed to gather within seconds, bending down to pick up the debris that was scattered all over Shank Town. An elderly woman dropped her granddaughter’s hand and grabbed half a brick. Her aim was straight and true and if it hadn’t been for the safety glass they would have been hit.

‘Quickly!’ shouted Sam. There was no point in placing the rough grey blanket over his head now; the neighbours knew who he was and what he had done. Fear ruled Kevin Milne’s life–it always had, and this wouldn’t change anything. He had an instinct for survival that Sam Jones had only ever seen in rats, and he took off like a sprinter the minute the first missile was thrown. In seconds he had outstripped his mother and PC Williams. Doubt flickered in the officer’s eyes: was the little bastard going to try and leg it? Williams was no shirker. Instinct kicked in and he chased down the boy. His helmet flew off and the smooth operation descended into mayhem. The mist muffled the noise but Sam saw it all happen in slow motion. Someone shouted, ‘Get her!’ and Sam swivelled to check her back as DI Davies threw his cigarette away and readied himself.

In that instant the women of Shank Town saw their chance and headed for Kate–for years to come they would be bought drinks on the strength of this morning’s action. Years of pent-up emotion boiled over, children shrank into the background as their mothers turned into vicious baboons, spitting, scratching and hitting Kate Milne. She cowered and tried to protect herself. A stone cut her cheek, narrowly missing her eye, and a tear of blood ran down her face. An inch higher and she would have been blinded.