Harry dropped the dead chicken and smirked at his pal. Seconds later both boys lunged at Stuart with their penknives.

Eddie pulled up behind the Renault van. ‘Stay in the back with Georgie,’ he shouted at Terry.

Ricky, Gary and Raymond sprinted across the field. At sixty-one, Eddie could still run, but not quite as fast as he once could. Gary was the first to reach Stuart. He had both kids in a headlock, but was struggling to hold them. ‘Well done, mate,’ Gary said, as he grabbed hold of Harry.

‘Get off me, you shitcunts,’ Harry screamed, as he felt rope being tied around his arms.

Eddie was out of breath as he arrived at the scene. Harry’s pal tried to do a runner, but Ed grabbed him by the neck. ‘Keys to the quad bike,’ he demanded, holding his hands out.

‘Go fuck your grandmother,’ the boy replied brazenly.

Eddie kneed the boy as hard as he could in the nuts. ‘I said keys to the quad bike,’ he repeated.

‘Harry’s got ’em,’ the boy squealed, as he fell to the ground in pain.

‘Check he’s got the keys, Ray, otherwise that little cunt might be back at the site before we have a proper chance to get away,’ Ed ordered.

Ricky found a key in Harry’s jacket pocket. ‘You little bastard,’ he shouted as Harry spat a mouthful of phlegm in his face.

‘What’s that doing there?’ Eddie asked, clocking the dead chicken. It had been squashed in the scuffle.

‘Don’t ask, you really don’t wanna know,’ Stuart said, as he stood up and brushed his clothes down.

Gary put some tape across Harry’s mouth and lifted the boy over his shoulder. ‘Should we tie him up an’ all?’ he asked, pointing to the other lad, who was still writhing on the floor in pain.

‘Nah, he’s going nowhere for a while,’ Eddie replied confidently.

‘I’ll ring Terry, make sure the coast’s clear,’ Raymond said.

Five minutes later, both Georgie and Harry were safely trussed up in the back of the van.

‘Well done, lads,’ Eddie grinned, shaking both Stuart and Terry’s hands.

‘Your fucking grandson stabbed me in the side, look,’ Stuart complained, lifting up his shirt.

‘It’s only a nick, you’ll live. Right, I settled up with that nosy old fucker at the B&B. You and Tel got all your stuff out, didn’t ya?’

Stuart nodded. ‘Everything’s in the van, including our sleeping bags.’

‘Do yourself a favour, go find a supermarket and stock up on food and water. Once you get back to the site, don’t budge. I guarantee you, by tonight or tomorrow lunchtime, Jed and Jimmy will have either done a runner or they’ll be gunning for us.’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX