‘Marry a good woman like I did. But stay away from the booze. It’s the devil’s work, that. And never forget what I taught ya. The stories, the sayings, they’ve all got meanings, boy,’ Granddad panted. I could see he was finding it harder to breathe, his grip on my hand was loosening.

‘I will, Granddad. I promise I’ll do all you say.’

Seconds later, me grandfather shut his eyes and died right in front of me. He had a half-smile on his face that I’ll never forget.

Later that evening, I picked up a pen and pad and wrote down every single quote and saying I remembered Granddad telling me. It was only then I began to understand the meaning of life and what carrying on the Bond name truly meant …

Chapter One

Spring 1975

Kenny Bond lay on his bunk, hands behind his head, savouring the peace. Five whole days now he’d had the cell to himself and it was absolute bliss. It felt more like Butlins than Wormwood bloody Scrubs.

Glancing at the photo on the wall of his beloved wife and their kids, Kenny allowed himself a wry smile. Today was visiting day and not once had his Sharon ever let him down. She was his soulmate, and today he had something important to ask her.

Kenny’s daydreaming about what his wife’s reply would be was cut short by a jangling of keys, his cell being unlocked, then Perky’s fat face appearing.

‘Good morning, Bond,’ Perky said, a supercilious smile on his piggy chops. ‘Meet your new cellmate, Tamplin. Okey doke, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,’ he chuckled, before slamming the metal door and locking it.

Kenny eyed his new cellmate with suspicion. He always got lumped up with a wrong un, knew the governor ordered that purposely. Usually, it stood out like a sore thumb at first glance what was wrong with each and every one of them. He’d had a lovely combination of druggies, alkies, notrights and nonces. Not this geezer though. For once, he had a cellmate who looked half normal.

Tamplin grinned. ‘All right, Mush? What you in ’ere for then?’

Kenny sighed deeply. There was no mistaking that accent. A gypsy one.

Sharon Bond shuddered as she listened to the news. That serial rapist had struck in Cambridgeshire again. A twenty-two-year-old this time, the rapist’s sixth victim in six months. How she missed having Kenny at home with her. He’d always made her feel safe and secure since the night she’d first met him.

Sixteen, Sharon had been when she’d met Kenny. He was seventeen, but already a man in comparison to other lads who’d asked her on dates. Kenny was mature, good-looking, oozed confidence, and within a few dates, Sharon had fallen head over heels for him. Luckily for her, Kenny felt the same and the following year they got married.

Sharon turned the volume up on the radio. She adored Minnie Ripperton’s voice and the song ‘Lovin’ You’ was currently storming up the charts. The words were beautiful, could have been written for her and Kenny. As soon as the song finished, Sharon turned the radio off. She usually looked forward to her prison visits, but not today. She had something to tell her husband and it wasn’t good news. It was really bad.