Not only was Patrick Murphy the referee, he also ran a book on these special occasions, and both Eddie and Raymond had stuck a oner on Gary to win. ‘He’s a good little boxer,’ Patrick told Eddie, as he handed over their winnings.

Eddie smiled as Jimmy O’Hara approached him. ‘Got a good right hook, won fair and square your boy. How old’s your other one? My second one down, Marky, is thirteen.’

‘My Ricky’s twelve, but he can handle himself all right.’

‘Get him in the ring, then,’ O’Hara demanded.

Eddie and Gary placed another oner bet each and watched as Ricky put on a pair of gloves. ‘Hit him hard, son, as hard as you fucking can,’ Eddie urged him.

‘He’s a lot taller than me,’ Ricky said vulunerably.

‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall,’ Eddie told him.

‘Go on, Ricky, you can do it,’ Gary yelled as the bout began.

Desperate to make his dad proud of him, Ricky flew out of his corner. Within a minute he had knocked the O’Hara boy down.

‘Marky’s fine, let him carry on,’Jimmy O’Hara shouted.

Patrick Murphy waved his hands to signal the end of the fight. ‘And the winner is Ricky Mitchell,’ he shouted, holding Ricky’s right arm aloft.

Jimmy O’Hara was pissed off. He’d had £200 each on his boys and they’d both let him down. ‘Why did you stop it? He slipped over,’ he moaned to Pat Murphy.

Patrick shrugged. ‘You know the rules, Jimmy. He never slipped, he was put down. One knock down, fight over. They’re only kids, remember.’

Seeing the smarmy expression on Eddie Mitchell’s face, Jimmy walked towards him. ‘Let’s put the little ’uns in there, then. How old’s your youngest?’

‘My Joey’s six, but his mother won’t be letting him get in there,’ Eddie chuckled.

Jimmy tried to goad him, ‘Does your wife wear the trousers, then? Five he is, my Jed. Come on, let the chavvies have a go. What are you? A man or a mouse?’

Eddie shrugged. Jed might only be five, but he certainly wasn’t a wimp like Joey was. As it wasn’t in his nature to back down, Eddie went off to find his youngest.

Seeing Jessica sitting with Vicki, he walked over to them. ‘Where’s Joey?’

Jessica smiled and pointed to the makeshift dancefloor. Eddie’s blood boiled as he spotted his son. He looked a right pansy dancing in a circle with six little girls.

‘He’s coming with me. I’ve organised a little boxing match for him,’ Eddie told Jessica bluntly.

Jess looked at her husband in horror. ‘What do you mean? A boxing match?’

‘He’s going in the ring with that little Jed. They’re only having a spar up, it’s nothing dangerous,’ Eddie said reassuringly.