Jed smiled as he thought back to that night. Murdering Harry Mitchell had been all his idea. He had planned it with precision and, due to his cleverness, they’d got away with it.

In Jed’s eyes, Harry Mitchell had deserved to die. Butch, Jed’s grandfather, had had his life ruined by Mitchell. Butch had never recovered from being shot in the foot. He walked with a severe limp from that day onwards and spent the latter part of his life living as a recluse.

Jed had plotted the operation from start to finish. He’d recruited Sammy’s younger brother, Billy, and his pals to act as decoys. Six times Jed had driven them over to Harry’s and paid them fifty quid to cause mayhem. The boys had no idea what Jed was up to. He’d told them that the man had knocked him for money.

‘See that house over there, number thirty-one? I want you to hang about outside and make a nuisance of yourselves. Make sure all the neighbours see and hear you, but keep your hoods up at all times so they can’t see your faces. You’ve gotta shout, scream, throw stones, knock on the doors. I need you to be as noisy as you can,’ Jed ordered.

On the night of the murder, Jed had paid the boys their money, driven them back to Essex, then he and Sammy Boy had returned to Canning Town. They knew Harry was in, as they’d seen the lights go on and off earlier.

Jed had chosen Christmas Eve for a reason. He knew there’d be loads of noise on the streets, therefore Mitchell’s shouts and screams would blend in with those of drunken revellers.

At eleven o’clock, Harry’s house was in complete darkness.

‘Let’s give it an hour, make sure the old shit-cunt’s asleep,’ Jed told Sammy.

Sitting across the road in the back of a hooky van, Jed and Sammy amused themselves by secretly poking fun at the merry worshippers heading off to midnight mass. At a quarter to twelve, Jed checked the coast was clear and told his cousin to follow him.

‘Right, put your gloves on and your hood up. Time to give old Harry boy his Christmas present,’ Jed whispered, as they crept through the alleyway that led to Harry Mitchell’s back garden.

Jed knew they’d have no problem gaining entry. He’d done his homework and was aware that Mitchell left the louvres open in the conservatory to let his cat in and out. Jed then expertly removed the louvres one by one, climbed in, then urged Sammy to do the same.