He laughed again. ‘Kenny, I trust no one, and I mean no one. Let’s be honest, you may be my kid, but I don’t even know you. And, for all I know, she could have you clocking my every fucking move – the sly bitch.’

‘But why would she do that, Dad? I mean, she’s got her life with Alastair and the girls, a big house, and the poxy career of her dreams.’

Kendall clocked the tightness in his face melt away, as his green eyes clouded over, and his heavy brows dropped.

‘You really have led quite a sheltered life . . . ’ He paused. ‘Maybe it was for the best.’

A sudden urgency to know what he meant urged her to push for an explanation. ‘Come on, Dad, give me some clue as to what you mean? I at least deserve that. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t ask to be born into this family, or any fucking family.’

The serious tone in her voice made him sit up like a soldier. ‘Your mother hasn’t worked hard for her career, ya know, she was forced into it. Yeah, she loves the status, but, in truth, she’s just a face, behind a puppetmaster.’

Kendall chewed the inside of her mouth in contemplation. ‘Who’s the puppetmaster, then?’

A stubborn silence lingered a few moments before he huffed. ‘Look, Kendall, forget I said that. Yeah, ya mother has a good career. That aside, as much as you find her a toffee-nosed irritant, she’s still ya mother. You can have the flat . . . But I need to get going, so I’ll drop you off back at the station.’

***

It had been a month since Mike had been reunited with his son, and as he awoke before the buzzer sounded, he looked across at him sleeping. He had done the same thing every morning. Eleven years of believing Ricky was dead had left him with a constant feeling of worry. He watched his son’s soft-skinned face and floppy hair glow from the sun shining in through the small toughened glass window. His heart skipped a beat with excitement that beside him was his boy, his reason for living.

As much as his son put a loving smile on his face, in the back of his mind, there were thoughts of revenge that ate away at him. Dez Weller. He was the monster who had burned nearly every one of his photos of Ricky when Mike believed he was dead. And within hours of his arrival at Maidstone Prison, he’d found this bastard with a knife at his son’s throat. That was resolved, but then he discovered that Weller wanted Ricky as his bitch. Revenge for the latter abomination should have been a given but it wasn’t safe enough. He now had too much to lose; his liberty was paramount to ensure he’d be on the outside with his family, where he could protect them.