Though Mr Cole continued to sling insults and bluff and bluster, knowing Freddie was waiting, Nick began to walk away. Freddie was his one and only priority and seeing him stood on the stairs in tears, wringing the belt of his dressing gown, he had to go to him. Freddie needed that bath, especially after everything he’d just seen and heard, and he needed a cuddle on the sofa, to eat pizza and play video games while his dad made him laugh. Nick turned his back on Mr Cole and took a step towards the door. A hand on his shoulder pulled him backwards and he spun. A balled fist waved in his face. Spit had formed at the corners of Mr Cole’s mouth and the thin white line of spittle grew and shrank as he continued to shout at him.

Feeling threatened by the vehemence of the man’s anger and his close proximity, a hint of fear combined with that guttural fury surged inside. His breathing grew heavier and without thinking, Nick pushed him backwards hoping to get some distance between them. Mr Cole stumbled and fell onto his backside. A few people guffawed as a thick, ruddy pinkness flew up his neck and onto his cheeks.

‘You all saw that,’ he bellowed, staring around the assembled crowd. ‘You all saw him push me over.’ Just at that moment, Mr Whittaker went past with Mitzie. ‘Did you see that, Mr Whittaker? He pushed me over.’

The old man cast a glance over the tubby, angry man on the ground. ‘Don’t talk nonsense, Mr Cole. Now get up. You’re upsetting my Mitzie.’

The little dog yapped as the crowd giggled. Nick couldn’t help but feel that many of them were happy to see Seymour Cole taken down a peg or two.

‘You should all be ashamed of yourselves,’ shouted Jocelyn Carmichael, coming out of her house a few doors down. ‘Brawling in the street like Neanderthals. What do you think you’re doing? You’re grown men.’

She was right, and Nick turned his eyes to his son, embarrassed at what his boy had just seen, even though he’d acted in self-defence.

‘He assaulted me,’ shouted Mr Cole.

‘Rubbish,’ Trish screeched back. ‘You’re a liar, Seymour Cole.’

Len joined in. ‘You started it by putting your hands on him.’ Trish took hold of his arm, stopping him leaping over the small wall that separated their properties. ‘Don’t try and pin this one on anyone else.’

Mr Cole continued to remonstrate. ‘Unnecessary force, that’s what it is! And I’m pretty sure if it weren’t for the crowd, you’d have hit me. I’m calling the police.’

‘You put your hands on him first,’ shouted Trish. ‘We’re all witnesses. He was walking away.’