As their lips met romantically for the very first time, Stuart felt as though he was in seventh heaven but remembering the promise he’d made to Eddie, pulled away from Frankie’s grasp and opened the kitchen door. ‘Tel, grab the sports bag on top of the wardrobe in Jordan’s room,’ he shouted.

Terry ran upstairs, grabbed the sports bag and threw the contents onto the floor. The gun had gone.

‘Stu, we’ve gotta go out again,’ Tel shouted as he pushed past Joyce and Stanley and ran down the stairs.

‘What did Joey hide upstairs, Stu? Please tell me, was it a gun?’ Frankie cried.

Instead of answering the question, Stuart kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Lock all the doors and if anyone knocks, don’t answer it. My battery’s gone dead, so ring me on Tel’s phone if you need me.’

Joyce and Stanley had been standing at the top of the stairs earwigging and had heard the conversation between Frankie, Stuart and Terry.

‘Who’s got a gun? Please God, not our Joey,’ Joycie screamed at Frankie.

Stanley put his head in his hands. From the first moment his Jessica had brought home Eddie Mitchell, he’d known he was trouble. He’d told Joycie his fears at the time, he’d known the Mitchell family’s reputation, but she wouldn’t listen, and instead of warning Jessica to steer clear, she’d encouraged their relationship. With panic in his eyes, Stanley shook his head in despair.

‘If only you’d have listened to me, Joycie. If only you’d have bloody listened, woman.’

Back at the salvage yard over in Dagenham, Eddie, Gary and Raymond had spent the past fifteen minutes sitting in the warehouse where the tyres were stored, being tortured for answers. Like Raymond earlier, Ricky was now the one in and out of consciousness and Ed was desperately worried about him. He was still breathing, but had lost so much blood since being shot that Eddie knew he could die if they didn’t get him to a hospital soon.

Gary took a deep breath as Jed put the gun to his temple once more. He was more frightened of his brother dying than getting killed himself.

‘You’ve got one more chance to tell me where my chavvies are, otherwise I’m gonna blow your brains out. Now, what will it be?’ Jed jeered, his voice full of evil.

Gary stared at his father and Raymond. Both men had their hands and feet tied up and were sitting opposite him, their backs against a wall. Ricky was lying next to them, in a bloodied heap. Winking at his dad as a sign of letting him know he was OK, Gary answered Jed’s question. ‘Blow me brains out then, you cunt.’