Peter finished his drink, and poured himself another before saying quietly, ‘You have to stop this, Dan, and you have to stop it now. Alfie is earning us serious money. He’s a cunt, granted, but he is also our cunt. You have this fucking mental haze – you take against people for no reason. I know you have been goading him. If I was him I would have taken you out, even if it meant I was shot dead in the street. I would not let you make a fucking mug of me like you have him. You’re out of order, and you did all this behind my back.’

Daniel had known it would come out eventually, but it had never occurred to him that his brother knew what was happening but had chosen to let it go. Peter had been repairing the damage on the quiet. Daniel decided the best way forward was to go on the offensive.

‘Come on, Peter, you and I both know that bastard is not trustworthy.’

Peter Bailey smiled despite himself; if there was one thing he loved about his brother, it was that he never changed. He was always constant, ignorant as shit, but stoic in his opinions.

‘This is not about Clarke, is it? Not really him, personally. It’s about you, as usual. Well, do you know something, Dan? This is one time I am putting my foot down. You have got to stop this, all this petty fucking stupidity. I’m sick of it. Sick of clearing up after you. You’re getting the reputation of a cunt. No one trusts you.’ Peter Bailey poked his finger into his own chest as he said angrily, ‘I don’t fucking trust you! You cause upset everywhere you go. You take offence at every little fucking opportunity. You have to prove yourself to people who mean nothing to us, to people so beneath our radar they might as well be dead. Come on, bruv, enjoy this, enjoy what we’ve created. Please, Dan, it’s like we don’t know each other any more.’

Daniel looked into his brother’s brown eyes; this was the only person in the world who he really loved – he sometimes thought that this man might actually take precedence over his wife and kids. But he couldn’t back down this time. Clarke was like a cancer to him; he ate at him every minute of the day. He knew it was irrational, but that didn’t bother him. He truly believed that if this brother of his had felt like this about someone, he would not dare to question him about it, he would just accept it. Accept the fact that his brother must obviously have his reasons for his strong dislike of a person, no matter what the score. Daniel would just have stepped back and allowed for the inevitable. He expected the same support.