‘I’m sorry, Jimmy. I ain’t been avoiding you, mush, I was just trying to get your wonga together before I contacted you. What’s happened is that when you paid me that dosh up front for you know what, Pete told me to put it together with what I had stashed of his and purchase a bit of land with it. The land ain’t far from here and was going for a song. Then a couple of days later, I visits Pete in Belmarsh and he informs me that Mr Mitchell’s brothers have been shunted to a different wing. Apparently, they got beaten up and were moved for their own safety. Pete says he’s still gonna try and get to ’em if he can, but I didn’t wanna call you, Jimmy, not until I got ya five grand back. I was gonna return you your dough and if Pete does manage to catch up with ’em, you can give me the full whack all at once.’

Jimmy wasn’t annoyed about the dosh. He’d known Bobby and Pete Berkley for years and he knew they wouldn’t knock him. What he was annoyed about was Eddie Mitchell double-crossing him. He didn’t believe for a minute that fate had played a hand in Paulie and Ronny being moved and Jimmy was determined to find out the truth and then make Eddie Mitchell pay the price.

‘Nanny, Grandad, can we open our presents now?’ Georgie asked, leaping on her grandparents’ bed. Georgie had tried to wake her father, but he’d gone out last night with their Uncle Sammy and wouldn’t get out of bed.

‘Of course you can,’ Alice said, hugging her granddaughter.

Jimmy pointed an angry finger at Georgie. ‘That bastard record is driving me mad now. I don’t wanna hear it no more today – got me?’

Seeing Georgie’s lip wobble, Alice punched her miserable husband on the arm. ‘I don’t know what or who has rattled your cage, Jimmy O’Hara, but if you spoil mine and the chavvies’ Christmas, I’m leaving you for good, understand?’

Wary of his wife’s threat and temper, Jimmy immediately apologised.

Terry Baldwin bent down next to Sally’s bed and gently shook his daughter. The money he’d shelled out to Jamie Carroll in the Thatched House car park in Barking had left him rather short of readies, but he’d still managed to push the boat out, present-wise, for Sally. He’d wanted to cheer her up a bit.

‘Wakey, wakey, darling. Are you going to come downstairs and open up your presents?’

Sally ignored her father’s question and pulled the quilt over her head.

‘Sally, you can’t carry on like this, love. I’m ever so worried about you. Please come downstairs.’

With memories of her son, Luke, flashing through her mind, Sally closed her eyes and wept.