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 started laughing. ‘The O’Haras. They’ve moved away, the whole lot of ’em. They’ve gone to Essex, by all accounts. Butch sent a message to me yesterday, via Ginger Mick. He told him to tell me that there won’t be any repercussions and he wants an end to the feud for good. Ginger Mick said the old cunt was petrified and he can barely fucking walk. Yesterday they went – the site’s completely fucking empty. Packed up their stuff and did a moonlight flit, apparently.’
Eddie couldn’t stop smiling. He would never have to see Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly boat race ever again.
‘Bring us over a bottle of champagne, Betsy,’he ordered the barmaid.
Eddie shook his old man’s hand. ‘You know what this means, don’t you? We can take over the Stratford boozers. I can’t wait for us to bowl into the Chobham and demand money off that pikey-loving cunt of a guv’nor. I think we should stick the price up in there, charge him more than we charge anyone else.’
Harry laughed. ‘My sentiments exactly. Apparently, they had seven boozers in Stratford on their payroll, all told. In the next couple of days we’ll pay all of ’em a visit, get our foot in the door.’
Eddie sipped his drink. ‘Are you sure that Ginger Mick can be trusted?’
Harry nodded. ‘I’ve had him on me payroll since he was a young ’un. Safe as houses, he is. The O’Haras thought he was their Joey – what they didn’t know was that I set it all up. We needed a spy in the camp, and Ginger Mick was perfect.’
Reg, Paulie and Ronny’s arrival spelled the start of a glorified piss-up. Champagne corks went flying and there were pats on the back and handshakes all around.
‘Come and join us, John,’ Harry urged the guv’nor.
Ronny started the singalong and the rest of the lads joined in: ‘When the inbred O’Haras go run, run, a-running along, shoot the bastards, shoot the bastards, shoot, shoot, shoot the bastards.’
‘What yous lot celebrating? Ain’t won the bleedin’ football pools, have yer?’ Betsy asked, as she brought over yet another two bottles of champagne.
‘We’re celebrating being the kings of the East End,’ Ronny shouted, grabbing her large backside.
‘Keep yer dirty fucking hands to yerself, Ronny Mitchell,’ Betsy said, laughing.
The raucous behaviour, jokes and songs continued for hours and, three sheets to the wind, Eddie completely lost track of time. ‘Shit, I was meant to pick Jess up at seven,’ he said, leaping out of his chair.
‘Fuck her off, stay out with us tonight,’ Ronny said.
‘Yeah, let’s go to a club and celebrate properly,’ Paulie suggested.