Mike could feel the lump in his throat. Ricky hadn’t gone into too much detail of what his life had been like. Mike believed that his son was saving him from further heartache. The thought of his boy feeling alone was enough to cripple him. And now he was worried because inside prison the rules were not the same. The sly dig with a shiv could end anyone’s life, not least his son’s. The likes of Dez wouldn’t go a single round in the boxing ring: he would be too underhanded. Just the sideways glance from the Yardie’s shifty eyes made Mike nervous – not for himself, but for his son.

‘I’m going for a shower anyway.’

Ricky’s smile reached his eyes and deepened his dimple. ‘Okay, Dad. I’ll see ya there.’

Just as Mike stepped outside the cell, Lou appeared with a smile that showed his back teeth. ‘I’ve just been down to reception to collect me mail, and it looks like ya nan’s gone overboard again.’ He looked over at Ricky. ‘You’ve got a whack of gear down there. They’re all fancy labels an’ all.’

Slowly getting up from his bed, Ricky frowned. ‘What, more clothes? Jeez, me nan’s right spoiling me, eh?’

Mike popped back inside the cell and laughed. ‘You wait until you get out of ’ere. She’ll have you up Oxford Street kitting you out in whatever the hell ya like and . . . ’ He paused and gave a cheeky grin. ‘Pops will be taking you shopping too, but not for clothes.’

Ricky’s eyes widened; he was so excited, but he never predicted what his father would say next.

‘The new BMW model’s out soon, and he thinks it has ya name written all over it.’

Like an electric shock, Ricky jolted. ‘What?’ His skin suddenly became covered in goose bumps. ‘No way. Oh my God! A BMW? That’s way too much.’

Lou shook his head. ‘I bet that’s just the start as well, trust me. Ricky, your grandparents will want to give you the world and quite rightly so. You’ve twelve years of catching up to do, mate. Me, I’d soak it up and savour every bit of it.’

Ricky’s eyes returned to look at his father. ‘But that’s such a lot. A new car. Wow! I never thought. Well, what I mean is . . . I can’t believe my life could go from nothing to now this.’

‘Well, get bloody used to it, Son. You’ll never go without again. So, start thinking about which motor you’d really like, and when we get out, you can go on one of those intensive driving courses and get ya licence. You can cruise around in a nice set of wheels, a pair of Ray-Bans, and all the designer clothes ya can wear.’