Liam was aware that his brother was actually serious; he could hear the exasperation in his voice. Liam closed his eyes; it was like talking to a brick wall. ‘It’s not just about the gambling, Petey, and you know it. It’s about you running up enormous fucking slates, slates you know you will have trouble clearing, so you go somewhere else, and then start the whole fucking thing again. I had the Bowes brothers in here last night. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Jimmy Bowes is more than capable of shooting you if you cunt him off. He is a man of morals, and if he thinks you have mugged him off, he would see his actions as perfectly reasonable. I paid him, Petey, but he told me to tell you that you are not welcome in his clubs any more.’

Petey laughed; he could not for the life of him understand why his brother was making such a big deal about this. ‘So what? Fuck him! The Bowes! I’m shaking in my fucking boots! Shall I organise a minder? Joseph Bowes couldn’t shoot his way out of a wet paper bag. He’s a fucking idiot.’

Liam shook his head, and bellowed, ‘Well, for your information, the old man loves him! He sees him as a good bloke – just like everyone else does! He’s never been late with a payment in his life, and he always pays up with a smile but, more to the point, he understands the importance of keeping a low fucking profile. Whereas you are the talk of London lately, and it’s a fucking miracle that no one has mentioned it to the old man. He has a lot on his mind at the moment so you’ve had a swerve, but he won’t relish hearing that you are back to your old ways.’

Petey didn’t answer his brother, but he knew he was right. Liam was only trying to help him, and that just made it worse. He hated being reminded of his failings, but he prided himself on not being as docile as the others – they would still be tugging their fucking forelocks at sixty if they weren’t careful. He wasn’t going to wait around for fucking years until his old man, or his cunt of an uncle, either died of cancer or, knowing his luck, fucking advanced old age; he wanted what he was due now. Petey felt he was already getting on; he had decided it was time to settle down, to convince his old man that he was finally getting his act together. But he felt like a fucking idiot – he was no better off than when he had been a teenager. He would spend his whole life in his father’s shadow if he didn’t take matters into his own hands.