Over the years, the Costellos had made a good name for themselves; they out-classed the Barbers in every way, and that they had never once encroached on the Barbers’ turf was something Jonny really appreciated. The Costellos had integrity. They still lived by the old code, and that meant that you never trespassed on anyone else’s pavements. Jonny knew that if they had wanted to procure his family’s turf, they were more than capable of doing it. The Costellos had the manpower and the money. He should have followed their example, but he had never bothered to look outside of his own front yard. Now it was too late.

Dicky had tried to take them on years before, and failed dismally. Declan Costello had hammered the fuck out of his brother, and there was no way he could have retaliated. Dicky had been in a pub in Woolwich, drunk as a skunk. He had eyeballed Declan in the same drinking establishment and, in a moment of utter fucking alcohol induced lunacy, had challenged him.

Jonny was well aware his brother Dicky could have a row – there was no doubt about that – but Declan Costello was another matter. Once riled he had no off button. However many times he was knocked down, he got back up, and kept coming. Not that he had ever been knocked down by a single man – it took a good few to achieve that. Declan could take on the entire British Lions rugby team, and still be the only one standing at the end of the fight. No one who knew Declan would ever be stupid enough to take him on. Even Roy ‘Pretty Boy’ Shaw, the bare-knuckle boxer and a seriously hard man, had joked that he would fight any man alive except Declan Costello.

Jonny had heard at the time that Declan had tried everything in his power to get out of having the fight, but Dicky, being Dicky, had been like a dog with a bone. Eventually, Declan had lost his cool. The rest was history.

Now Rob had seen fit to pick a fight with Michael Flynn, a man who everyone knew was destined for greatness, who always treated the people around him with the utmost respect, but who had proved himself on more than occasion as a vicious fucker if roused.

Jonny sighed in exasperation. This was not something he had expected. He had assumed that even a fucking moron like young Rob would have had enough sense to keep away from someone like Flynn. With relatives like his, who needed fucking enemies?