It was a worrying development. No one had called out the Cotton brothers before. Sharon knew that regardless of all her shouting and cursing, some people just wouldn’t snitch on them, even for two hundred grand.

‘If he is, fuck ’em. Come on, let’s get these kids fed. What’ve you got there?’ Sharon asked.

‘Pancakes from Tesco, already filled with Nutella.’

‘Bloody lovely.’

Tired and jubilant faces beamed at the prospect of treats. It was akin to a non-uniform day at school: indulgent and lawless. It broke the monotony. The day was still dewy from the morning, and ice had formed on the top of waterproof sheets, and dripped off onto the road as it melted. The smell of damp bodies had formed a cloud at the entrance of the shelter.

The women swapped anecdotes about their experiences of the local authority and the law: they complained of mistreatment, neglect, being the ‘forgotten ones’.

‘There’s another banner in that.’

Sharon agreed.

‘We’re like fucking Grenfell,’ another woman said. ‘A disaster waiting to happen. I complained about my gas again yesterday. What if it went up when the kids are asleep?’

‘Right so. We’re not budging until something changes.’

Sharon shouted across the street to two coppers in uniform. ‘Morning, lads! Fancy a cuppa? Looks like we’ll be staying a while longer.’

Chapter 30

‘You’ve got to hand yourself in, bruv. They’re gonna find you soon enough, and it looks bad.’

‘I didn’t do it,’ Tyrone said.

‘I know, man,’ Jackson said. ‘The Cotton brothers will make sure you take the heat for it, though.’

‘How can they do that?’

Tyrone was naïvety personified and it touched Jackson.

‘Bruv, they can do what they want, just like the police. Anyone can be framed. We’ve got to make sure they don’t pull it off. I’ll take care of it. What happened?’

Growing stir-crazy, Tyrone had dared to leave the flat used for drug deals and substance use, and they sat in one to which Jackson had access. They were alone and would remain undisturbed. If the police ever came into possession of the network of addresses that were used across the estate, there would always be ones that remained anonymous and untraceable.

Tyrone told Jackson about the evening he’d spent with Keira. Things were getting serious, but for some reason, he couldn’t commit himself in the way she wanted.

‘She was always asking for more: more holding, more affection, more phone calls, more chat, more presents. Man, I couldn’t keep up. She was pissed at me. They came from nowhere, I swear.’

‘Jason and Adam?’

‘Yeah, and the others. They get Keira and start saying she has it coming to her, they know what she been doing.’

‘Like what?’

‘That’s what I said, man.’

‘And what did they say?’

‘They said she had to keep her mouth shut about something.’

‘Did you know what?’