He had learned from his Uncle Peter the wisdom of making people feel they were appreciated, and that it was easier when you were already at the top of your game to make friends of the new Faces, of the up-and-coming generation, that it was much more sensible to use the talents of the people who worked for or with you, than it was to make them into enemies.

His father had seemed to be finally understanding that as well, had seemed to be pleased at the way they were now treated as a family unit by their peers. His father had four huge sons; they were not little kids any more and were working hard to portray an image of familial solidarity – they dealt with their cousins on an almost daily basis after all. Now, Daniel Bailey Senior had, in one afternoon, destroyed it – he had once more shown himself as nothing more than a common thug.

He had ruined his sons’ graft for a poxy three grand, had sacrificed them because he had heard that his brother was opening another nightclub, and he hated that he wasn’t a part of it, or of anything that would require his active involvement.

‘Did he use his fists, or a weapon?’

Davey looked into Danny’s eyes, and the brothers were both so disheartened and so angry that it was like looking into a mirror. ‘Both. He started out pounding him, then he picked up a fucking spanner that was lying on his desk. He finished him with that, all the time screaming and cursing. It was a fucking embarrassment.’

Danny groaned again. ‘Were there many people in the betting shop?’

Davey sighed. ‘Ten, eight, I wasn’t taking the fucking register, was I? Enough to make sure it gets talked about anyway. Oh, and on the way out of there, he emptied the tills like a fucking school-boy robber – stuffing the money into his pockets. I tell you, Dan, he’s a waste of time. He has no fucking care for how that looks to people, he really believes that it all makes him look big or something. He’s such a cunt . . .’

Danny stood up then and, taking a deep breath, he said seriously and against his better judgement, ‘Look, Davey, whatever he is, he is still our father, and we have to be seen to be on the same page as him, no matter what. We can say what we like to each other, but outside the family we say nothing, do you hear me? That’s the worst kind of betrayal – you know that as well as I do.’

Davey sighed and said sarcastically, ‘I know that, bruv, but in reality, it’s getting harder and fucking harder.’