Tony could have kicked himself. He watched as Ralph Gold turned and walked back to his wife and the crowd sitting near the front of the boxing ring. How could he have thought that Ralph Gold would talk business here, amongst this lot? And he’d made a point of calling Tony ‘son’, just to keep him in his place.

Suddenly, there was a huge roar and a burst of applause. Tony turned towards the boxing ring to see the master of ceremonies, with his microphone, waiting for the crowd to quieten down a little. When they did, he introduced the two boxers in opposite corners of the ring. Men were cheering and applauding. Everyone was in high spirits. Money was changing hands as they were taking bets against each other.

Tony turned to Jake. ‘God, Jake, I’m a real prat at times. I’m standing here with blue hair, surrounded by most of the Metropolitan police, and I ask Ralph Gold for a meeting. Shit!’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. Here, have a drink and forget it.’ Jake handed him a glass. ‘He knows you want to meet him and, when the time is right, you will. Come on, let’s go and watch the fighting.’ He headed towards the boxing ring.

The air was filled with cigar smoke, beautiful women walked around the boxing ring holding up numbered signs displaying how many rounds the boxers had fought and the referee, who was from the local boxing club, was in charge of the situation.

As Tony heaved a deep sigh, he caught sight of himself in the mirrored wall. He smiled at his appearance. Bloody hell, what a sight for sore eyes. It had been an eventful day, to say the least. Maybe Jake was right, maybe it was time to join in with the fun and have a few drinks – and, of course, Ami would be popping round later on.

When the evening eventually came to an end, Sharon was sick of the ring girls moaning. The novelty of their role had quickly worn off, and instead they’d spent most of the night complaining about trying to keep their balance in high-heeled shoes, while walking around a boxing ring spattered with sweat, water and sputum. It was like a skating rink.

When one of the boxers had been knocked out, someone had poured water on his head and face to bring him around, then someone had picked up a brush and swept it all to one side. All of this was going to take some cleaning up in the morning.

On leaving, Ralph Gold made a point of walking up to Tony. ‘Next year, son,’ he said. ‘I should have a free appointment by then. I’ll put it in the diary.’ Then he made his way to the exit with his arm around his very drunk wife.

The next morning, Tony came down from his apartment at the club a little worse for wear. Although he had decided to have some fun and make a night of it, he hadn’t realised how much he’d overdone it until he woke up with a banging head.