‘I’m going to get you started up with your own phone later on. You’ll be smashing it in a few months. You might need to go out of town though. That’s where the money is. You can take some gear with you and meet my team in Blackpool. They will give you some wedge to bring back too.’

Ged was confused. ‘What do you mean? What about the work at the market?’

Frankie brushed his question off. ‘I’ll tell you properly later, but for now we’re going to get you some new clobber – trainers and a trackie. You’re one of my boys now and you need to look the part. You can bin them old trainers, I’m not being funny but they’re shite.’

Ged nodded his head in agreement. This was music to his ears. New clothes were something he only got on birthdays and at Christmas. He wasn’t turning his nose up at any free ones, no way in this world. Maybe he’d been too quick to think he couldn’t run in Frankie’s world. After all, he was a mate now.

Frankie was as good as his word; the two of them were in the city centre at a sports store. Frankie knew what he was looking for and led Ged to the trainers. He pointed at the rack of sport shoes. And not the ones with the sale stickers where Ged would have looked.

‘Check them out, fucking mint mate, do you want a pair of them?’

Ged picked them up and clocked the price tag. One hundred and seventy pounds, surely Frankie didn’t know what they cost. Ged whispered over to him. ‘Have you seen how much they are?’

Frankie nodded. ‘Yes, pretty cheap if you ask me.’

Ged was used to spending sixty pounds on his trainers, seventy at a push. These sneaks were something he’d only dreamed of. Frankie took the shoes from him and shouted the assistant over.

‘Yo, boss, have you got any of these in a size,’ he nudged Ged, ‘what size are you?’

‘Eight.’

Frankie continued talking to the assistant. ‘A size eight, mate.’

This was really happening, Ged was getting kitted out just like Frankie had promised. They both sat down and waited for the shoes to arrive. Frankie turned to face Ged, his expression serious. ‘You tell fucking no one who bought you these. This is kept on the low. Tell your mam you got a job, hide the sneaks for a few weeks and blend them in with your old ones. In fact, tell her I give them you. The last thing we need is anyone asking questions.’

Right then, Ged would have agreed with anything Frankie said as he tried the trainers on. He was buzzing.