They were approaching the area where the fighters were; a ring had been roped off and the money men were milling around. Tommy spotted Ronnie Olds by a small marquee. He signalled to his men and they all surged forward together. Ronnie was busy taking bets and didn’t see Tommy ‘til it was too late. Tommy was beside him with a false smile on his face and a dangerous grip on Ronnie’s arm. Looking at the old woman who was trying to place a bet, he said, ‘Sorry, love, this bookie just closed. You’ll have to go somewhere else.’

The woman, a known penny lender, looked at Tommy in temper and said: ‘Balls! I wanna place a bet. I’ve been queueing for half an hour!’

Tommy looked down at her and said between gritted teeth: ‘Fuck off, Grandma, or I’ll shove your money right up your arse!’

People began to move away then, guessing there was trouble afoot. It was Ronnie Olds’ trouble and not theirs. The old woman contemptuously spat at Tommy’s feet and went along to the next bookie, complaining loudly.

Tommy pushed Ronnie into his marquee and the two men faced one another.

‘You’re out of order, Lane. You’ve no business coming here and pushing me around.’

‘Bollocks, Ronnie. All I hear lately is you and the Campbells and that slag Bolger. Well, tonight’s the night I pay my fucking debts, and I’m starting with you, matey.’

Ronnie Olds was a big man, big and cumbersome. Tommy knew this and had planned accordingly. Pulling a boning knife from his waistband, he slashed it across Ronnie’s beer belly. The blade went in about an inch. Ronnie watched in dismay as blood began to seep out. The boning knife was so sharp he hadn’t even felt any discomfort. But he was cute enough to know the pain would come. He held his stomach with both hands, unsure whether the knife had cut deep enough to spill out his guts. Once they left the body you were dead. White-faced, he staggered back, his heart beating too fast, sweat appearing on his forehead.

Tommy slashed him again, lengthwise this time. Making a red cross on his stomach.

‘You fucking ponce! You thought you could fuck me up, didn’t you? You thought that Bolger was the dog’s bollocks. Well, he ain’t, mate. He ain’t, but I am. You want violence, I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna take out every one of you, even your fucking drunken old man. You want fear, well, I’ll make sure you get more than you ever dreamt of in your poxy little life!’

He took the knife and wiped it across Ronnie’s face. Slicing through the skin until the cheek flapped down exposing the bone.

Both men stared at Briony as she walked into the tent with Mariah Jurgens.