I smiled at her, and at my cousins as they followed their parents to the front of the church. My cousin Imelda, a beautiful woman with long, dark relaxed hair, who exhibited more Jamaican heritage than her brothers, walked over to me and my father. Smiling sadly, she hugged him first, then me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. I was pleased and so relieved when my father had hugged her back; she had always been a favourite of his. No one really knew then how much the Life had affected her.

I looked at my Uncle Peter, a big, handsome black man, and at my father, so like him in many ways, even though he was what would be called white. They had the same mother, but different fathers, and were so close they were like pages in the same book, united now in their grief. It was a grief that transcended feuds.

The church full of people were wondering who the bastard was that had set the car bomb that had blown my poor mother all over Soho. But, unlike them, we knew who was responsible for planting the bomb which had caused this carnage. And we also knew that the bomb hadn’t been meant for my mother. If the intended recipient had died maybe, just maybe, things would never have turned out like they did. Hindsight really is a fucking wonderful thing.

I still had a lot to learn about my family. On that day I knew nothing about guns, and the murder of a baby, an innocent child tragically drawn into this world of violence as easily as my mother had been. I would find out about these things eventually. You name it, my family had done it. But they couldn’t have foreseen how deep they would get into the quagmire of revenge, and how they would lose all semblance of reality, forgetting about the real world outside of their world.

The loss of my mum had opened my eyes to the truth of the Life. In the last month I had seen and done things which would change me for ever. And, despite everything my mum did to protect me, she didn’t prepare me for how seductive the Life could be.

There was an old Irish saying of my nana’s – she always said you get the life you deserve. I hope against hope that there was no truth in that. But only time will tell.

Book One

She shakes the blues off then she tries her luck

Makes a little bet, hopes her horse comes up

Pickin’ pockets for some easy money

’Cause she blew the goddamn lot on the National Lottery

Alabama 3, ‘Mansion On The Hill’
Album: La Peste, 2000

Flip, baby flip my switch

Blow my head off

If you’re gonna cry, keep your shades on

Alabama 3, ‘Keep Your Shades On’
Album: Outlaw, 2005

Chapter One

1979