Daniel Bailey was like a scalded cat, but he knew his son was right – he had to keep calm, let the man say what he had to say, but it was hard.

‘Billy Allen was in the toilet, having a line. I was on the john, I needed a dump, I’d had a gyppy belly all day, so he wasn’t aware of me being in there, like. Well, Terrence came in and they were talking the usual coke shite, you know, having a sniff, the usual. But then Billy said to Terry, “I wish we could be there, don’t you?” and Terry just laughed with him. Then Stevie Taylor came in and they started chatting about more old shit. I stayed in the stall until they had gone. I knew then that I was best keeping a low profile in case it was about their private business – you know what the Allens are like, especially that cunt Billy. I didn’t want them to know I had heard anything that was of a private nature, from what was obviously a private conversation. It was only afterwards that I even remembered it. When I got the call later on saying what had happened at the club, about poor Lena, I went through to the bar and relayed the news to everyone there. We were having a lock-in, and they were all our people, like. But when I thought about it the next day, I remembered that Terrence Allen had looked like he was about to collapse when I said what had actually happened – that Lena had been killed. I was a bit pissed by then, had a few lines myself, but I don’t forget things, Daniel, as you know. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I should tell you. I knew that you and Peter had given the Allen brothers a sharp tug recently, and I also knew they were not too thrilled about it. Look, if I’m talking shite, then I apologise, but I just knew I had to tell someone about it.’

Daniel Bailey was staring at Dessie Graham as if he had never seen him before in his life. His face was hard, closed, he looked capable of literally anything. He forced a smile on to his face and, holding out his huge hand, he gripped Dessie’s and pumped it up and down quickly, saying, ‘You did the right thing, Des. Now, keep this conversation to yourself. Not just because I’m asking you, but also because the Allens would not take kindly to you relaying it to us lot. I thank you for coming here, and I know you are as sound as a pound, mate. If it helps, you will be in line for a fucking treat, OK?’