Eddie stood up to say a few words, but was too choked up to go through with it. Seeing Ronny race towards him in his wheelchair, Eddie handed him the piece of paper.

‘My Dad was the best and, I swear on God’s life, we’ll get revenge for you, Dad. Whoever did this to you, we’ll do a hundred times worse to them,’ Ronny slurred, ignoring what was written down in front of him.

Eddie cringed. Trust Ronny to be pissed and say something like that in the house of God. Frantically waving his hands, Eddie urged the organist to play the song that he had chosen. Harry’s all-time favourite was the old war time classic, ‘Heart of My Heart’.

‘When I pop me clogs, I want that played at me funeral. It was me and your mother’s favourite song, Eddie,’ his dad had told him.

Lots of tears flowed as everybody joined in with the words.

When we were kids on the corner of the street,

We were rough and ready guys,

But oh, how we could harmonise!

Feeling his eyes well up, Eddie did his best to hold back the tears. Every villain in London was here and he was desperate not to make a tit of himself in front of the world’s finest. Pulling himself together, Eddie joined in with the singing:

I know a tear would glisten,
If once more I could listen,
To the gang that sang
‘Heart of My Heart’.

As the chapel began to empty, Jessica squeezed Eddie’s hand. ‘It was a lovely send-off. Your dad would have been proud,’ she told him.

Eddie stood by the graveside, amazed by the number of people in attendance. There had been hundreds unable to fit inside the chapel and they had listened outside to the service on a loudspeaker. Eddie stood between Sylvie and Auntie Joan. Both women were beside themselves and he had to nigh-on physically support them.

As his father’s body was finally laid to rest, Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘God bless, Dad,’ he whispered, as he threw earth on top of the coffin.

Desperate to be seen as an important member of the family, Joyce grabbed Eddie’s arm. ‘Come and look at the beautiful flowers,’ she insisted.

Eddie let her drag him away and listened as she rattled on about who had sent what. ‘Look at that beauty that says BIG H; Freddie Foreman sent that. I love the LEGEND one, don’t you? That’s from the Krays. Look at that boxing glove, Ed, it’s massive, ain’t it?’

‘Who sent that?’ Eddie asked, completely disinterested.

‘Er, I can’t remember. Here we go: the card says Jimmy O’Hara and family.’

Eddie felt the blood in his veins run cold, ‘Give us that fucking card,’ he yelled.