‘No. I got it off someone in the Berwick. Please don’t start with all the questions, Joey. You won’t get on with him if you start accusing him of things he hasn’t done.’

Frankie put the phone to her ear. ‘Jed, it’s me. What you up to? I’m in the Albion.’

Joey guessed by the big grin that spread across his sister’s face that Jed was coming to meet them.

After being dragged around the supermarket by his aunt, Eddie dropped her off and headed to Wanstead. His dad’s solicitor, Larry, had been a friend of the family for years. As bent as a nine-bob note, Larry knew every trick in the book and was the perfect brief for anybody not quite legit.

Walking into the restaurant, Eddie asked the waiter if Larry had arrived yet. ‘No sir, but your table’s ready. Would you like to sit down or have a drink at the bar?’

Eddie ordered a drink and sat at the table. Larry had attended his dad’s funeral, but had then sodded off on a three-month cruise. ‘Look, there’s no rush. We’ll sort me old man’s estate out when you get back,’ Eddie had told him.

Unbeknown to Eddie, his dad had paid for the cruise and ordered Larry to book it as and when he died. Harry’s orders were, ‘Don’t let Eddie know immediately. Leave it three to six months, at least.’

‘Eddie, how are you? Any news yet? Larry asked him as he sat down opposite.

Shaking his head, Eddie shouted for a bottle of champagne to be brought over. ‘No news at all. Fucking useless, the filth are. They couldn’t catch a cold, the cunts. I’m gonna start rooting around meself again, see if I can do a better job. I’ve asked around the underworld, but no one’s heard a dickie. It’s a mystery, Lal, it really is.’

Feeling a bit melancholy, Larry quickly changed the subject. He had liked Harry Mitchell very much. He was one of life’s characters. His death was an awful shock and Larry hated talking or thinking about it.

Eddie studied the menu.

‘The lobster’s good in here,’ Larry told him.

Eddie ordered them both lobster and sipped his champagne. His father had always told him that he hadn’t bothered making a will. ‘What’s the point? I’ve got three sons and it will all be split equally. I know you’ll look after Reg and Joanie for me and I want the grandkids to be seen all right,’ Harry had instructed Eddie.

Bored with listening about Larry’s holiday, Eddie spoke bluntly. ‘So, have you found out what the old man’s estate was worth?’

‘I sure have. All in all, including the house your dad was living in, it’s worth around the three-million-pound mark.’