At first Jimmy had ummed and aahed over the wonga Pete demanded. He knew a few travellers in Belmarsh who would probably do the job a lot cheaper, but in the end, he had decided to stump up the cash. Mitchell had given him thirty, so whatever he shelled out, he was still in credit and that thought made Jimmy smile. Mitchell paying him to kill his own brothers while giving him a good drink on top was the stuff that dreams were made of.

Bobby Berkley stood up and shook Jimmy’s hand. ‘What are you drinking, pal?’

‘I’ll have a pint of bitter,’ Jimmy said, sitting down at the table.

Bobby returned with the drinks and the men got straight down to business.

‘As agreed, there’s five up front and you’ll get the other fifteen when the job’s done,’ Jimmy said, as he handed Bobby an envelope under the table.

‘I’m visiting Pete on Wednesday and will tell him it’s all systems go. He’s on the same wing as Ronny and Paulie and he’s already been watching their movements,’ Bobby said.

‘I don’t care how he does it, I just want ’em both dead and I want it done before Christmas.’

Bobby nodded understandingly. ‘Don’t worry. Pete won’t let you down.’

Back in Rainham, Joycie Smith was starting to get very worried. She still hadn’t heard a dickie bird from Stanley, and had no idea of his whereabouts. When Stanley had had his little tantrums in the past, he’d always gone to Jock’s or their old house in Upney. He was at neither this time, as he’d fallen out with Jock and their old house had now been sold.

Joyce made herself a brew and sat on the sofa feeling desperately sorry for herself. Their house was in the middle of nowhere, down a country lane, and without Stanley and the car, Joyce felt like a prisoner in her own home. There wasn’t even a bus stop nearby. Stanley always drove her to and from the nearest one if she wanted to go into Romford or somewhere. Knowing that she would need to go food shopping in the next day or two, Joycie’s worry quickly turned to fury. She debated whether to ring Joey and Dominic and ask them to take her to Tesco tomorrow, but immediately decided against it. The poor little sods lived miles away and it wasn’t fair to keep spoiling their weekends. Getting more angry by the second, Joyce picked up the phone and dialled Jock’s number.

‘Jock, it’s me, Joycie. Have you found out where that senile old bastard is yet?’

‘I haven’t, Joycie. I ain’t heard a word from him, love.’