Petey was greedy, always had been. He spent his whole life trying to catch up with himself, whereas the other boys managed to live within their means. Even fucking Jamsie could balance his chequebook, and that was no mean feat for him; Jamsie had the brain power of a fucking politician – he listened and repeated anything he thought sounded sensible. But he still managed to pay his bills and spend his earn wisely.

When Petey gambled he bet huge amounts because he was convinced that there would always be more money coming in – he was a Bailey, after all. But even a Bailey could push certain people too far, and that was what was happening now. Petey had run up bills, and bills had to be paid. Petey should know that better than anyone – he had hammered enough people because they owed the family; it was a part of the job description: thou shalt not shaft the people you owe money to. People were demanding their poke, and they had every right to do that.

‘Well, clever bollocks, I think you need a reality check. I’ve had three different families ask me to have a word with you on the quiet about your mounting debts. Do you not see how that looks to outsiders? You are running up bills all over the Smoke because of your gambling, and you don’t think the people concerned are going to ask for what they are owed? Are you that fucking stupid? I’ve batted them off, but if they go to the old man next time, do you honestly think he will just pay them, and then forget about it?’

Petey shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I always pay me debts – I just needed a bit more time, that’s all. It’s not like we can’t afford it, is it? For fuck’s sake, if we can’t be trusted then who can? So I like a fucking flutter now and again? So fucking what? In case it has escaped your notice, gambling is actually fucking legal in this country – unlike the majority of our other businesses.’