‘Da!’ Angela screamed as he drew level with Cleary.

‘What are you wanting?’ Cleary demanded, but Tommy could see he was trembling.

‘You hit my lad. You ripped the skin off his hands with a stick.’ Tommy’s voice was cold, his words, very matter of fact, betrayed none of the emotions coursing through his veins.

Sweat was breaking out on Cleary’s forehead. His hand visibly shook and the bell rattled, but despite his fear he attempted to hold his ground. ‘Aye, and what of it? That’s what we do here. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Do you not read your Bible, man?’

Tommy felt strangely calm. ‘Aye, we take it very seriously over in Liverpool, it’s an eye for an eye – and my lad, he nearly lost his life. Here’s how we take our revenge in Liverpool,’ he said as he pressed the knife against Cleary’s throat.

The white stubbled flesh depressed as the Adam’s apple bobbed furiously up and down. Cleary backed away, almost stumbling until he hit the wall, but there was no escape. Tommy walked faster and pinned him against the wall and with his right foot, bore down hard on Cleary’s own. Cleary was no match for Tommy, a docker all of his life. His face was close to Cleary’s as he hissed, ‘Say your prayers, you evil little man.’

Cleary began to cry and the bell left his hand, clanged on the ground and rolled to the side. Tommy had lost his senses; his breathing became laboured and his nostrils flared. One press, that was all it would take. He would avenge Harry – and Kitty, their Kitty, he would feel the belated joy of revenge for her too.

‘Da, come back!’ It was Angela and her voice cut through his rage. ‘Don’t, Da, please, please don’t.’

She was crying now, but was it Angela, or was it Kitty? He was momentarily confused and in being so, the red mist parted. He heard the sound of running water which jolted him to his senses and he was aware as it splashed onto his boot that it came from Cleary.

‘Go on, piss yourself, you pathetic bully,’ he hissed as he flicked the knife shut and put it in his pocket. No, he would not spend time in jail for the likes of Cleary. Removing his hand from his trouser pocket, he raised his fists and, just as a look of total shock crossed Cleary’s face, he hit him straight between the eyes. The only sound after the impact of knuckles on skin was that of Cleary hitting the ground and lying in his own puddle, followed by the sound of children whooping and cheering.

Angela reached her father’s side and took his hand. ‘Da,’ she said, ‘what have you done? Mam will kill you, so she will.’