‘I’m worried about him, Dan. I could hear him talking to himself last night. He was making a cup of tea, and I came out of the toilet, and I thought he had someone in the kitchen with him, but he was all on his tod.’

Danny knew his father was gradually losing his grip on reality but, then again, he had never been that rooted in the real world anyway. It was over a month since the bombing and he had watched the man deteriorate day by day. He believed his father would eventually conquer his grief but, in the meantime, it was almost too painful to witness. He only acted normal with Tania, and that was because he was trying to make up for the loss of her mum.

‘He’s just missing Mum, that’s all, Davey. Like we all are.’

Davey nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. He changed the subject. ‘Who do you think ironed Terrence Allen out, Dan?’

Danny shook his head. ‘Who knows? He wasn’t exactly Mr Popular, was he? Whoever it was, they don’t seem willing to take the credit, do they?’

Davey sighed. There had been a big price on Terry’s head, so why was nobody claiming it? Another mystery to add to the pile.

‘Listen, you get off, Davey. I’ve got a meet with a Filth in a minute. You go and round up the lads, make sure they have collected all the debts. Since the trouble, a lot of people have been taking the piss. I’ll meet you at the Electric Lady later on.’

Davey laughed. ‘That Richard Casey is a cunt. Did I tell you he tried to fucking shake down our Jamsie? Said he had already weighed out the day before. When Jamsie asked him who he had given the poke to, the idiot said some geezer with brown hair.’

Danny laughed at the man’s front. ‘What did Jamsie do?’

Davey grinned and, as he slipped his leather jacket on, he said craftily, ‘He kicked the living shit out of him, and when he had finished, he took his Rolex off his wrist, and smashed it to smithereens. Jamsie is a natural-born enforcer; he has just the right amount of tact and force – know what I mean?’

Danny laughed with his brother. ‘I know. He is coming into his own, our Jamsie. Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, admittedly, but he has the right temperament for collecting.’