Paulie Braden was pissed and, as always when he was pissed, he loved the world. Picking up his cigarettes he swept a low bow to his friends and, laughing loudly with them, he staggered out of the pub doorway. Taking a few deep breaths he pointed himself in the general direction of home and attempted the short long walk with all good intentions. As he strolled along the road he heard a car pull up beside him and, with his usual good-natured smile, he stopped and waited for the men to get out and threaten him. This was a weekly occurrence and he knew that it would be over quickly and he could get on his way. The money he owed was not that large an amount and once he got his wages he would pay a bit off the interest and keep this lot off his back for another few weeks.

But as Paulie looked at the young man who was coming towards him, he was nonplussed, this was not the usual bloke. This young fella had a cross face and a mean look in his eye.

The baseball bat hit Paulie with such force that he was knocked into the road and a car had to swerve to avoid him. The drink he had imbibed had made him unsteady on his feet and as he fell to the ground, the young man brought the bat down heavily on to his shoulders. The pain was excruciating and when the bat was brought down over and over again, he finally understood he had pushed his luck too far. When he was finally dragged to the kerb it was a few moments before he properly understood what was going to happen to him. Another young lad had now appeared and, grabbing his arm, he forced him to straighten it. Then he held it so Paulie's wrist was on the kerb and his shoulder on the Tarmac; it was when he realised what was going to happen that he finally tried to fight. The boy smiled, then rabbit-punched him quickly in the face, immediately mashing his nose, and straightened his arm out once more. The first young man brought his booted foot down on to it heavily, smashing the elbow completely. Paulie Braden was in such agony he was screaming like a trapped rat and people stood there watching the little tableau with resigned expressions on their faces. A police car cruised by, slowed down so the officers could have a decent gander and then speeded up and disappeared around the corner.

'Please, son, please. I can't take this… I ain't got the money, I swear…'

'You got the fucking money to get pissed though, ain't you, you old cunt. Well, I ain't a person who can be mugged off, see, I have what is known as a personality disorder. Straight up, it's a recognised illness. They explained that to me in clink after I bit a geezer's ear off because I thought he was taking the piss out of me. He had taken one of my bog rolls from my cell without my express permission so you can see my point of view, can't you? He was wiping his arse on what was essentially mine and what's mine is mine, and I want it.'

The man stamped on Paulie's gut then; he was aware that this was well over the top considering what the man owed but he had to start off as he meant to go on. This would guarantee a lot of debts being paid in the next few days; the word would soon spread and anyone who owed Mills would be pawning their wives' wedding rings and selling their first-born sons, anything, to make sure that nothing like this happened to them.

Paulie vomited loudly, the bile and beer spraying out of his mouth then running into the gutter with his blood.

'You owed Jackie Mills two hundred quid. Well, I have bought the debt off him for a oner so you now owe me three hundred quid and I want it. Don't you dare fuck me about. If I don't get my poke I will come looking for you again and next time I will not be so reasonable…' The sentence was left unfinished, the threat had been taken on board.

He lit a cigarette slowly and, dropping the match on to the man's hair, he smiled. 'You've got three days.' Whistling happily, the young men got into the car and drove away.

Annie Diamond was washing her underwear in the sink when she heard her daughter arrive back from the school.

'How'd it go?'

Lil walked into the kitchen and sighed. 'How do you think? He's been outed, expelled.'

Annie shrugged, her thin arms were plunged into a bowl of soapy water and a cigarette was dangling from her lips. Lil took the cigarette from her mother's mouth and puffed on it deeply.

'Look on the bright side, Lil. He can get a little job, bring in a few bob.'

'I suppose so, but I wish life wasn't always so fucking hard.'

Annie didn't answer her. In the last few years they had all learnt about hardship. In fact she didn't know how Lil had coped with it all. Especially with the boys; they had changed overnight.

'Did Lenny send any money round?'

Annie nodded. 'It's on the mantle, only a oner though. He is as tight as a duck's crack, him. Even the Queen comes to the opening of his wallet.'

Lil laughed then, a laugh she didn't think she had in her. She poured herself a large vodka and she knew her mother was silently chastising her for it. But she didn't give a toss, Annie Diamond was the least of her worries at the moment. Shamus had disappeared as usual and she swore under her breath. He was a little fucker and she hoped Patrick Junior would have a word with him and sort him out, now that he was finally home. Lance just seemed to make Shamus worse, but then he was good with the girls. For all his fuckery, he was good to his sisters. Especially Kathleen. She pushed Kathy from her mind, she had enough on her plate without thinking about her and all.

'Where are the boys?'

Annie was rinsing her smalls now and her hands were numb, the water was so cold. She shrugged once more.

'They went out this morning just after you, and I ain't seen them since.'

Then she turned to her daughter and shouted at her, 'Put some orange juice with that, will you; at least pretend you ain't got a drink problem.'

Lil laughed once more.

'If this was the only problem I had, Mother, how fucking easy life would be.'

The years had not been kind to Lenny Brewster and he knew that. He looked like he felt; over the hill and short of breath. As he wheezed with laughter at his own joke, the young girl with him wished he would just crash and burn so she could go home and have a cuppa and a ham sandwich like normal people. Lenny wasn't going to let that happen though and she knew it. He wanted his money's worth and she was going to have to make sure he felt he had been more than amply compensated for his initial outlay. He was a fucking mean bastard, and not only with money, he was mean in every other way as well. He wouldn't give a bogie to a dying man, he'd sell it to him.

Still, she had managed to get a car out of him; lease-hire mind, so once he outed her it would have to go back, but it was a start anyway.

The men in the pub with him were all ready for the usual day's drinking. Lenny was a cunt but he was willing to bankroll his cronies and make a day of it.

'Jackie Mills was in earlier and he reckons he has sold all his debts on.'

Lenny opened his arms in a gesture of disinterest. 'So what. Jackie Mills couldn't fucking pull in a family allowance book without my help. It's about time he realised he wasn't up to the job any more.'

He motioned to the barman for more drinks. 'Who's he sold them to? Fucking Jimmy Brick?'

Lenny looked at his old mate, Trevor Highgate, and saw he was nervous about answering. That meant he had to deliver some bad news. It had to be bad news, otherwise they would all be putting in their ten-pence worth. Lenny stared around him at his little posse of mates and, burping loudly, he held a hand to his heavy stomach while exhaling noisily. 'My guts are fucking killing me.'

He took a few deep breaths then and, grimacing in pain, he snapped, 'Well, come on then. Spit it out for fuck sakes. Who's the lucky man who is going to be the hero of the hour collecting fucking pension books and giros?'