The truth was, it wasn’t Terry Baldwin or Frankie getting her hands on the kids that Jed was worried about. It was the threat he’d received via Frankie and he hadn’t had a decent night’s kip since Danny Cooper had told him. Frankie knew everything bad about him and if she opened her big mouth, he could be looking at life in prison or, worse still, be chopped up in bits by Eddie fucking Mitchell. Jed didn’t know which thought was worse, but he couldn’t tell his parents the truth, as neither had a clue that it was he who was responsible for Harry Mitchell’s death.

Alice walked over to the sofa, sat next to Jed and held her worried son in her arms. He was obviously anxious about tomorrow’s court case, bless him. ‘Georgie girl and Harry both know what they’ve got to say, me and your father went over it again with ’em this morning. All you’ve gotta do is keep calm and everything will work out fine.’

Jed sighed at the word ‘fine’. He had an inkling that things were going to turn out anything but.

After leaving the cemetery, Albert, Reg, Vi and Joanie went straight home. None of them had been close to Beverley and they had only gone to the funeral to support Eddie and the boys. Eddie, Gary and Ricky went for a drink in the Barge Aground in Barking. Beverley had been more of an indoor’s drinker, but when she had ventured out for an evening, the Barge was always her number-one choice. When Bev’s low-life friends finally turned up, Ed smiled politely at them.

‘You took your time, where yous lot been?’ he asked. Ed had spoken to them after the funeral and told them to come to the Barge for the wake.

‘We had to wait for a bus,’ came the reply.

Generous by nature, Eddie walked up to the bar and handed £300 to the barman. ‘I want to keep that mob over there in free drinks all day,’ he said, pointing to Bev’s eight friends.

The barman nodded.

‘If any money’s left over, give it to ’em to get some food or something with.’

The barman smirked and nodded. He could have a right little earner out of this mug.

Seeing the look on the barman’s face, Eddie leaned across the bar and grabbed him by the neck of his scruffy t-shirt. ‘Oh, and don’t even think of pocketing any dosh, because I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the drink receipts and, believe me, if I find out you’ve fiddled me out of one penny, I will chop your fucking hands off, got it?’

The barman went deathly white and this time nodded with pure fright.