‘If I tell ya, I’ll have to kill ya,’ Ed said chuckling. Since Stuart had come out of the nick it was unusual for Ed and Gina to have the place to themselves.

‘Is that a gun in your pocket, Mr Mitchell?’ Gina said laughing, as he pushed his erection against her.

Eddie slipped off her bathrobe and made love to her on the shagpile carpet. He’d set the ball rolling late last night and, unbeknown to Gina, he’d taken the day off work to organise the surprise of her life.

‘So, where are you going today? You’re not normally this secretive,’ Gina said, teasing him.

Eddie grinned. With everything that had happened recently, he’d needed to do something to cheer himself up and the idea had popped into his head as he’d driven away from Joanie’s yesterday. He stood up, got dressed and winked at her. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, sweetheart.’

Larry Peters was sitting in Snaresbrook Crown Court. He was here to represent an accountant who had been charged with fraud, but he couldn’t concentrate on the case, as he knew he had done something very wrong. Client confidentiality was everything in Larry’s world, but not to tell Eddie what Frankie had told him was an extremely bad move. DI Blyth was visiting Frankie today in Holloway and if Eddie found out that Larry had known about the visit all along, Ed would probably string him up by the bollocks.

Sweating like a pig at the thought of Ed finding out about his misdemeanour, Larry stood up and turned to the judge. ‘Could you please excuse me, your honour? I am in desperate need to use the lavatory.’

Outside the courtroom, Larry punched in Eddie’s number. Unfortunately for him, Ed’s phone was switched off.

Pat and Stanley were poring over the latest pigeon magazine. Spring would be approaching soon and they were looking for a top-class cock to breed with Mildred.

‘It’s a shame Georgie’s squabs didn’t turn out as expected,’ Pat said remorsefully.

Stanley nodded. Pat had given him one of Georgie’s offspring and he’d seen ducks fly faster than the bastard thing. Pat threw the magazine to one side and snuggled up to Stanley.

‘I think we should pay that George Chalkley a visit. That cock he races is a bloody world-beater and I’m sure Mildred would produce fine squabs from him. What’s the name of his cock, Stanley? It’s on the tip of me tongue, but I can’t remember it.’