Terry had a difficult decision to make. He’d wanted to finish off Jed O’Hara as soon as possible, but if he refused to go to Australia, his marriage could be dead in the water. Cursing his luck, and Anne’s mother’s timing, Terry held his pretty wife in his arms. He couldn’t lose her; she was all he had left in the world.

‘Let’s go and book our flights then,’ he said softly.

‘You definitely coming with me?’ Anne asked, relieved.

Terry nodded. His plans to rid the earth of a vile piece of shit would just have to wait a little bit longer.

Over in Rettendon, Eddie Mitchell was busy making plans of his own.

‘I want you to spy on the house for me, Stu. I’ve bought you a little black Fiat to use. Just clock their movements, see what time they go out, come home, go to bed, all that type of stuff. I think we’re gonna have to strike on a week night. We can’t risk Jed being out partying somewhere. If you sit outside the house on a Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we’ll get an idea of their movements and pick one of those three evenings. It’s gonna be boring for you, mate, but I can’t risk Gary and Ricky doing it, cause if the O’Haras spot them, we’re fucked. You are the only one out of us all that ain’t gonna be recognised.’

‘So, what have I gotta do? Just sit outside their house in the motor?’

Eddie shook his head. ‘That’s far too risky. It’s a proper remote road, so you’ll have to park at Joycie’s and spy on foot. There’s plenty of trees and bushes on and near O’Hara’s land, so you’ll easily find somewhere to hide. O’Hara has security lights at the front and back of his gaff, though, so for fuck’s sake keep away from them.’

Considering it was January and had been snowing on and off for the past week or so, Stuart didn’t relish his task but, desperate to please Eddie, kept his thoughts to himself. ‘When do ya want me to start?’ he asked brightly.

‘Next week. Hopefully, the snow’ll be gone by then and there’s no rush because we ain’t gonna strike until after you know what.’

At the mention of, you know what, Stuart grinned. He was looking forward to the big day almost as much as his boss was.

Bobby Berkley was already in the Optimist pub when Jimmy and Jed walked in.

‘Look at you, all spruced up. You got some old malt on the firm?’ Jimmy asked jokingly.

‘Nah, got a wedding reception to go to in Chelmsford. Old Sidney Hedge’s grandson Toby got wed today.’