‘Hold on a minute, Mike. I do have me own business to run, you know. You didn’t have me back on your firm, did you, so what am I supposed to do?’

Mike studied his brother’s clean-shaven face. For a second, he wanted to thump him, but he paused and took stock. ‘So, what exactly is your business, Eric, eh?’

Eric frowned. ‘Just bits and pieces. I have my fingers in many pies.’

‘You know what, Eric? I hardly know you anymore. I thought you were an upfront man, but you’re not. Ya sneak around and turn up when it suits you.’

‘Well, Mike, I guess I learned that from you. But, anyway, as I said, I ain’t part of the firm. You and the lads are on some kind of mission and haven’t included me, so why does my business interest you? I thought when we spoke on that prison visit and you said I was still part of the firm, you actually meant it. Did you?’

Mike was chewing his lip and flaring his nostrils. As much as Eric was his brother, and once upon a time they’d been very close, deep down he really hadn’t forgiven him for failing to visit him for twelve years while he was in prison, when he’d needed him most.

‘I did want you back on the firm, but it’s not just me that needs to trust you, it’s the lads too. Staffie and Willie feel a little unsure of you. Lou hasn’t said much at all, but I know he doesn’t feel you’re kosher. So, if you were man enough, you would prove to us you were on our side. Yet, for some reason, you strut around as if ya shit don’t stink. Even at that party, I could see you looking down your nose at me. Anyway, I don’t give a fuck right now.’

As his eyes drifted to the floor, he noticed the footwear on Eric’s feet – new Nike trainers. His heart suddenly beat faster as the adrenaline surged around his body. Then he looked up and noticed the hooded tracksuit top. Surely not? Not his brother. Holding in his temper, he had to think before he asked the damning question. ‘What time did you leave the other night after the boxing?’

Eric screwed his face up. ‘What?’ His frown deepened as he watched Mike’s face tighten. He didn’t like that look; in fact, it frightened him. The death glare, he called it. ‘Um, about the same time as the others. Why? What’s this all about?’

‘Nah, you never. You went out and came back.’

Eric shuffled, nervously. ‘Yeah, I did, but I only went out to get some fags. Why? What are you insinuating?’

‘When did you start wearing fucking Nike trainers and fucking hoodies?’ grilled Mike, as he pointed an accusing finger.