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The Feud

Kimberley Chambers
Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. THEFEUD
  3. Dedication
  4. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE

Cover

image

THE
FEUD

KIMBERLEY
CHAMBERS

Image

preface
publishing

Dedication

In memory of Lee Mouser
1962–2002

My daddy told me I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Firstly, I would like to express my gratitude to everybody at Preface and Random House for believing in me and my books. A special mention to all the reps, who have done a wonderful job in getting my name out there.

A big thanks to Tim Bates, who is a great agent and friend and Rosie de Courcy for giving me an opportunity to make something of my life.

As always, I would be lost without my amazing typist, Sue Cox, and a special mention to Trish Scott for her help with technology.

Seeing as the majority of this book is set in the rave year of 1988, I must mention Jenny Munro, Tina Mouser, Sherri Fuller and Tracy Mackness. With the lives we lead back in those days I’m surprised we’re all still alive, let alone still in touch!

And last, but certainly not least, I must acknowledge Chas and Dave. Gutted you split up boys, but your music will live forever!

PROLOGUE

Summer 1970

As Eddie Mitchell ran his fingers along the side of the baseball bat, he could feel the beads of sweat forming along his forehead. It was one of those muggy days, where flying ants appeared. It was far too hot to be suited and booted and stuck in the back of a Transit van.

Eddie listened intently as his father repeated his instructions. ‘We don’t want an all-out war, so nothing too heavy, boys. This is a little warning for ’em, and if they don’t get the message, then heavy’ll come later.’

As the rest of the family discussed the feud, Eddie sat in silence. In his eyes, the O’Haras had taken a fucking liberty and deserved more than a little warning. For as long as Ed could remember, his dad, Harry, had run the pub protection racket in the East End. No one messed with the Mitchells, no one dared, and then, like an unwanted disease, the O’Haras appeared on the scene and tried to muscle in on their patch. Eddie was the youngest member of the family firm. His dad ran the show, along with his uncle Reg. Then there were Paulie and Ronny, his two elder brothers.

‘You OK, son?’

Smiling with anticipation, Eddie nodded at his father. The O’Haras were a travelling family who had recently moved to the East End from Cambridgeshire. Eddie hated travellers. In his eyes, they were uncouth, lowlife, inbred scum. In particular, he hated Jimmy O’Hara. He was the strongest of the sons, the loudest, and flash didn’t even begin to describe him.

‘I wanna be the one to take out Jimmy, Dad.’