Eddie took a deep breath. He wanted to be as diplomatic as possible. ‘Because when you were young your dad ran away with your nan and grandad and he took yous two with him. Your mum looked for you, we all did, but none of us could find you.’

‘How did ya find us now then?’ Georgie asked.

‘Because we kept looking until there were no more places left to look,’ Eddie replied, not wanting to mention Katie.

Harry blew his empty crisp bag up and burst it with his hand.

‘Fuck, that made me jump,’ Raymond complained.

Harry grinned. ‘Nanny Alice says our mum is a proper old shitcunt and she said our mum got put in prison for trying to murder our dad.’

Eddie stared his grandson in the eyes. Frankie was going to have far more aggravation with him than she was with Georgie, that was for sure. He decided to play the boy at his own game. His Auntie Joan had taught him a valuable rule when he was a boy: ‘When in Rome, do or act as the Romans do, boy,’ she used to quote regularly. He smirked at Harry.

‘Your Nanny Alice is a nasty piece of work. She’s an evil, twisted old hag.’

Harry dropped his gaze and looked at his hands instead.

‘We’re gonna need to fill up with derv, Ed. We’re on the M6 now, so I’ll stop at the next services. If anyone wants a piss or some food, sort it now,’ Raymond informed everyone.

‘What did Stu say?’ Ricky asked his father.

‘That truck’s still there and the other tosser is probably still in a boozer somewhere.’

Gary rubbed his hands together and grinned. ‘Lovely jubbly! Now we’re on the M6, we’re home and dry, lads.’

Jed O’Hara was absolutely seething as he drove along like a bat out of hell. His brother’s Toyota Land Cruiser had a three-litre engine, was as nippy as anything, yet he still hadn’t caught up with Mitchell.

‘Ring the old man again, see where he is. Tell him we’re on the M6,’ Jed ordered his brother.

Billy rang Jimmy’s number. ‘He’s still on the M74, he said he’ll be on the M6 in about ten minutes,’ he told Jed.

‘Has he seen that blue van, ask him?’

‘No, he ain’t.’

‘Tell him to put his fucking foot down, then,’ Jed said angrily.

Stuck in the fast lane behind someone who was only doing eighty miles an hour, Jed held his hand on the hooter. ‘Get out the way you prick,’ he screamed.

‘What did you say that number plate started with?’ Billy asked a few minutes later.

‘BJJ,’ Jed replied.

‘I think their van’s a few motors in front of us; it says BJJ on the plate,’ Billy said pointing towards the middle lane.