Chapters (48)
- Cover
- THEFEUD
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
Harry eyed his son proudly. Even from an early age, Eddie was the one full of promise, and Harry knew without a doubt that one day his youngest child would be head of the family business.
As the Transit van pulled up outside the pub, the Mitchells clutched their weapons.
‘Right, let’s do it,’ Harry said as he sprang from the van.
Barging his brothers and uncle out of the way, Ed followed his father into the boozer. ‘See you? You’re dead, you piss-taking pikey cunt,’ he screamed as he spotted Jimmy O’Hara and lunged towards him.
As the pub erupted into full-scale mayhem, Eddie was grabbed around the neck from behind.
‘Do him, Jimmy, fucking do him!’ he heard a voice shout.
As the knife slid down the left-hand side of his face, Eddie felt anger, not pain. With blood spewing from his face, he went for O’Hara like a rabid Rottweiler.
‘You inbred pikey piece of shit!’ he screamed, as he threw off the geezer behind him and repeatedly thrust the baseball bat against Jimmy O’Hara’s head.
In that moment, Eddie completely lost it, and if his family hadn’t dragged him away, Ed swore he would have committed murder.
Harry, Reg, Paulie and Ronny managed to clump and scare the rest of the O’Haras and, aware that Eddie’s face was almost sliced in two, they quickly bundled him into the back of the Transit van.
‘Let me go back. I’ll kill him, I’ll fucking kill him!’ Eddie screamed.
‘Your face is fucked. We need to get you stitched up, son,’ Harry said seriously.
Ed was seething as he held the side of his face together. He was covered in claret from head to toe. The wound was so deep, it had even soaked through his suit.
Aware that his mouth was full of blood, Ed spat a mouthful onto the floor. As he turned to his father, his expression blackened.
‘I’ll get me own back, Dad, if it’s the last thing I do. Even if the O’Haras lay off our turf, this feud ain’t over. It will never be over between me and Jimmy, not now – not ever.’
ONE
1971
Joyce Smith smiled as she carefully lifted her best dinner service out of the box. She rarely used her expensive china, but today was a very special occasion and she was desperate to impress.
As Joyce entered the living room, her smile immediately turned to a frown. That lazy husband of hers was still glued to that filthy, stinking armchair of his. ‘Stanley, get your arse up them stairs and get yourself ready. You haven’t even washed or shaved yet and they’ll be here soon.’
More interested in the 3.45 at Kempton, Stanley leaped up and down. ‘Go on my son, get in there. Go on my son, you can do it!’