Well, it was paying off now; he was going to do such a fuck-off job he would soon be in demand. That was his goal in life – to be the best driver in London. Good drivers had a very important place in the scheme of things, and they were paid handsomely for their abilities. Another year or two and he could marry his Gabby, and they could start the family they were both looking forward to. They talked about it all the time; how they would decorate their house, what names they would give their kids, what kind of schools they would attend. They were going to have children who would be somebody in the straight world, and they would both work their arses off to achieve that for them.

As he parked his BMW convertible in the scrapyard, the same scrapyard where he had witnessed the demise of Linford and Jonny P, Vincent shuddered. It didn’t matter how many times he came here – and that was frequently since Derek now owned it – he still felt the chill of apprehension as he drove through the large wrought-iron gates. It amazed him that the machinery in here was worth millions – it looked like a load of old tat. But he supposed it cost a fair bit to buy a machine that could gobble up cars – and people – and turn a large vehicle into a small block of metal, two foot by two foot.

He walked into the Portakabin, a large smile on his handsome face.

‘All right, Del Boy?’

Derek Greene smiled back widely. He’d always liked Vincent O’Casey, and it had been a pleasure watching the boy flourish under his watchful eye. He was trustworthy and loyal, all the assets needed for this kind of life. Not exactly a contender for The Krypton Factor, but a shrewdie just the same.

‘Sit down, mate, the others will be here soon. They’re a little firm out of Manchester, and I have talked you up, so don’t let me down, OK?’

It was a friendly warning and Vincent swallowed down his nerves as he said nonchalantly, ‘I’m easy, looking forward to it. It’s been a long time coming.’

Derek grinned again. ‘Easy, tiger! I had to make sure you were ready before I sent you out into the big bad world!’ Then, in a kinder voice, he said seriously, ‘Look, everyone gets nervous, it’s what gives you the edge. The day you don’t get nervous on a jump is the day it goes wrong. I read a book once about Laurence Olivier, a very talented actor, but he said that he threw up every time he went on stage. See what I’m saying? It’s the nerves that give people the edge. You’ll be all right, Vince, you’ll do good.’

Vincent smiled with pleasure at the man’s words.