Bewildered, Jessica called the kids. Eddie never usually asked to speak to them on the phone.

‘What’s up, Dad?’ Frankie asked.

‘Bet you and Joey are over the moon, ain’t ya? No more school, eh? You still going out celebrating with your mates tonight?’

Frankie giggled. ‘Over the moon’s putting it mildly. Yeah, we’re still going out. There’s loads of us, so it should be a really good night.’

‘Where you off to – the pub?’

‘Yeah, probably the Albion,’ Frankie replied. She didn’t want him knowing that they were hanging out at the Berwick Manor.

‘Ask your mum if she wants me to bring home a takeaway.’

Frankie did as she was told. ‘No, it’s OK, Dad. Mum’s already cooked something.’

Eddie ended the call and quickly made the other. When he had first heard the rumours about Joey, he had done nothing, apart from blowing Terry Palmer’s brains out.

Palmer’s murder had been all over the local news. The Old Bill had even come to the house, but Jessica had given him an alibi by saying he was at home all evening and hadn’t left her side. When the police left, Jessica had questioned him herself. ‘You were just out with the dogs, weren’t you, Eddie? Swear to me that you didn’t kill that man.’

‘I swear on our unborn baby’s life, I was out with the dogs,’ Eddie insisted.

He actually wasn’t lying. When he had murdered Terry Palmer, Buster and Bruno were in his motor outside Palmer’s flat. The dogs were his accomplices.

Jessica never mentioned the incident again and neither did he. He had no worries about Paulie or Ronny saying anything to the filth. His brothers might be jealous wankers, but they were no snitches. Grasses didn’t exist in the Mitchell empire; never had and never would.

Eddie had bided his time, watching Joey closely. He had never mentioned his son’s sexuality to Jessica, Raymond or anyone since that day. Jessica must have thought he had forgotten all about it, especially since Joey had brought the pretend girlfriend home, but nothing could be further from the truth.

The thought of his son being a raving iron was eating away at Eddie’s insides and he needed to know if it was true. After a lot of thought, he had scoured through the Yellow Pages and hired a private detective. He had been careful. He picked one miles away, a woman called Gina, and provided her with a false name. He called himself John Smith.