Harry Mitchell looked at Ronny as though he’d just crawled out from under a stone. ‘Shut up, you idiot. The Chobham’s their fucking headquarters, they’ll have so many witnesses backing ’em up, we’ll be nicked within an hour.’

Ronny felt his face redden. His dad had a wonderful way of putting him down and treating him like an imbecile in front of the rest of the family. He never did that to Eddie. Whenever he came out with an idea, his old man listened intently.

‘All right to come in, boys?’

Harry jumped up and answered the door to Joan.

‘That plate is ham and the other one’s salmon. I baked you some rock cakes and there’s more downstairs if you want them.’

Harry smiled as he took the trays off Joan. When his beautiful wife had been so cruelly taken from him, her sister had taken over from where she’d left off. She’d cooked, cleaned, washed, ironed and even taken care of the boys for him. Harry had never forgotten her kindness and had seen her all right over the years. When her husband, Alf, had run off with another woman, Harry had had him kneecapped and paid up her mortgage for her. Alf was now confined to a wheelchair, lived alone and was unable to walk, let alone run, the fucking arsehole.

As Harry munched away on a ham sandwich, he came to a decision. He’d leave the boys out of this one and sort it out himself. Butch O’Hara had shaken hands with him and called a truce, which had now been broken. Therefore, it should be Butch that was made to pay.

Pouring himself a cup of sugary, strong tea, Harry sipped it in almost a ladylike fashion and then wiped his mouth with a serviette.

‘Right, I’ve come to a decision,’ he said.

As always, the table fell silent as the head of the family spoke. ‘I don’t want yous boys involved in this one. I had a deal with Butch and it’ll be him that pays.’

Paulie was the first to speak. ‘You can’t do it alone, Dad. His sons are always with him, you’ll need back-up.’

‘You’re not a teenager any more,’ Ronny told his father.

Harry thumped his fist on the table. ‘I’m fifty-five, not fucking ninety. Now, I want you all to take note of what I’m saying. I am sorting this one out alone and if any of yous starts your own war with Jimmy O’Hara or any of the others behind my back, you’ll have me to answer to.’

No one argued. When Harry Mitchell gave out orders, he was always obeyed.

‘How you gonna collar Butch on his own?’Eddie asked.