Jimmy O’Hara tilted his head to one side. ‘Look, mush, I know we’ve been through a lot of shit in the past, but we’ve both moved on now, so can we call it quits?’

As Jimmy held out his right hand, Eddie had little option but to shake it. ‘Suits me. I’ve got a family now, I don’t want no grief,’ Eddie replied.

Jimmy smiled. ‘Same here. I’m putting a mobile home next to me new gaff, so me mum and dad can live there. Three chavvies I’ve got now, all boys. Actually, I think me youngest, Jed, has got a crush on your daughter. You never know, we might have a wedding on our hands, Eddie boy.’

Eddie made an effort to smile. If O’Hara thought for one minute that his beautiful daughter would ever be jumping over a broomstick, pissing in a bucket and eating a wedding banquet of baked hedgehog in clay, he could fucking think again.

‘I best be getting these drinks back now, the lads’ll be wondering where I’ve gone. I’ll see you around, Jimmy.’

As Eddie walked away, Jimmy O’Hara smirked. The scar he’d given him was a pure work of art. He could sense that Eddie Mitchell was thoroughly pissed off with him buying the house and that pleased him immensely. Jimmy O’Hara wasn’t as forgiving as he portrayed himself. As if he was ever going to forget his father being shot in the foot. His old man was a shadow of his former self and had walked with a limp ever since.

He and his brothers had all sworn to their father that they would let bygones be bygones. They had promised to forget about their feud with the Mitchells, once and for all. Knowing his dinlo brothers, they probably had forgotten about it. Jimmy didn’t see much of them now. Ever since he’d given up the pub protection racket, he kept well away.

Opting to go legal was the best decision Jimmy had ever made. The month he’d spent in hospital after Eddie had beaten him to a pulp had given him food for thought. Jimmy had always been the brains of the family since he was a nipper, and he was now the proud owner of fifteen scrapyards in Kent and Essex. Millions he’d made, fucking millions, and he made sure his wife, chavvies and parents were all well provided for.

Ordering a round of drinks, Jimmy nodded to Eddie as he walked back past him. He would never break his promise to his dad while Butch was still alive. Jimmy grinned as he marched across the field. He would bide his time, play Mr Nice Guy and then, one day, when the time was right, he’d make Eddie Mitchell wish that he’d never been born.

‘Please Mummy, can we go and play on the rides?’ Joey asked.