Ray’s stint in prison had stood him in good stead where his reputation was concerned. He had done nine years behind the door and he had acquitted himself well, used his time wisely and made some good connections for himself. He had a solid reputation and he was respected for his stoic personality and his natural friendliness. Oh, he was all sweetness and light until someone put him out, then it was either fight or fucking die. He had always been that way, since he was a kid.

His mother had spent her life in police stations, headmasters’ offices or visiting him in prison. She was a good woman, who, like Sharon, had been left alone to bring up a son who would go his own road. He was sorry to the heart for the trouble he had brought to her door, but he knew she loved him and he loved her. Life was what you made it, for good or for bad.

As he tossed and turned in the strange new bed, he wondered how he was going to fare in the next few weeks. Jamie Brewer would be aware by now that he was on the scene and why, so he had to be doubly careful in case he was blindsided. There was a good chance he might be taken out of the equation before it got too hot and heavy. But he was prepared for all eventualities: that was something he had learned in the nick. Never completely trust anyone was the main rule that he lived by and it had got him this far. He saw no reason to change now.

Chapter Ninety-Five

Jamie Brewer had a volatile temperament and he was known for his rashness and his tendency to lash out and think about his actions later. This had made him quite a few enemies. He had fallen out with every friend he had at some point so he was always running with different crowds. He was acquisitive and avaricious and he would literally stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

This was being relayed to Jack Johnson by Jamie’s uncle, Pete, who was a decent and trustworthy individual. Jack listened with particular care to what he was being told, aware that Jamie had scarred the man’s daughter for life during a family argument. A kettle of boiling water had been thrown and Pete’s fifteen-year-old daughter had unfortunately been in the line of fire. It had missed her face but caught her on the chest and shoulders; it had been an accident of sorts, but one that had been caused by his nephew’s temper. The incident had been smoothed over but, like any hurt to a child, it could never really be forgotten. Jack sensed that Pete Brewer would love nothing more than to see young Jamie get his comeuppance, and get it as violently as possible.

‘You talked to your brother about the situation, Pete?’