'You heard anything from Ozzy?'

Paul shrugged as he always did when asked that question. 'A few lines, that's all. He doesn't confide in me, Freddie, you know that.'

This was said in a flat monotone voice, a voice that brooked no more questions and told the enquirer he was keeping his own counsel but also that he knew far more than he was letting on.

He knew it irritated Freddie, even though he never expected a different answer. Today, though, there was an added annoyance that caused Paul to keep close to the shotgun he always kept underneath the bar. It was a weapon that was there mainly for the threat factor, but he would use it if necessary.

'And you ain't got no new fucking messages for me from Jimmy, then? After all, Paul, you are normally far more aware of what's going on than I am, ain't you? Jimmy, the cunt, tells you much more than he tells me.'

This was said so as to cause the maximum aggro, but Paul smiled carefully before saying quietly, 'No one's told me anything about you, or given me any messages, but if I hear anything you'll be the first to know, OK?'

He was watching Freddie while making sure his hand hovered over the shotgun.

Freddie had been gearing himself up for a while now, and Paul guessed, rightly, that it was all about his discontent. Freddie was being mugged off big time, everyone had noticed that, but that was not Paul's problem, that was Freddie Jackson's. Freddie was like a fucking big wet balloon, and he was due to burst soon.

Even the little boy's death had not softened the edges. In fact, since then Freddie seemed to be even worse, if that was possible.

Poor Jimmy had taken it badly, but that was to be expected. He had lost a child, an only child, a loved and wanted child, but it was Freddie whom the knowledge had seemed to age. As Paul watched him drinking now, so early in the day and so heavily, even though he knew he would insist on driving, he wondered what the added aggravation was this time.

As far as Paul knew, he was still pissing about on the take, and Freddie, being Freddie, that was all he would ever be doing. He never kept anything up for any length of time and he had ideas that were good and which he talked about for days but never came to fruition.

He had seen Freddie looking for a fight before and he was suddenly glad that he was not the recipient of Freddie's obvious anger and resentment. But that could change, he knew. Freddie Jackson could turn on a coin, and that meant no one was ever really safe from him until he had left the building.

Glenford and Jimmy had lunched at the Ship and Shovel on sandwiches and a few beers, the mainstay of men in their line of work.

They were both aware of the unspoken agreement between them, Glenford was going nowhere, he was sticking it out for the duration. Jimmy was more than aware of what he was taking on but Glenford knew he had a far more intelligent outlook on the situation. Unlike Jimmy he wasn't that close to the enemy.

Jimmy, for all his hardness, was liable to relent and give Freddie, as usual, the benefit of the doubt. Freddie, however, was never going to let this affront go without a serious fight, and Freddie fought well, it was all he had ever been good at. Glenford was frightened that this friend of his was making the mistake all great men eventually made – they underestimated their enemy, or, even worse, they assumed their enemy possessed qualities that they themselves had. Were far more decent people than they actually were.

Jimmy Jackson had always played the white man, while Freddie had always talked one way and acted another. It was the very nature of the beast he was. Freddie Jackson did not have a decent bone in his large and overly strong body. Of that much, at least, Glenford was sure. He also knew that Jimmy Jackson was not intending to go back on his decision. His worry, if he was honest, was that Jimmy might relent at the last moment and leave himself wide open to attack.

'Mum, for fuck's sake…' Kimberley had just realised what she had actually caused and the knowledge was frightening her now.

Jackie was getting dressed and any thought of sleep was long gone. This was now a woman on a mission, a dangerous mission that entailed murdering her sister in cold blood if necessary.

'Stop it, Mum, and listen to me. I heard them at Jimmy Junior's funeral, Dad was baiting her even then, he was being hateful to her even though she had just buried her child-'

'Oh my heart's bleeding for her, the cunt, and don't you mean their child?'

'Mum, Maggie would never hurt you, not intentionally. Why do you think she kept it quiet all these years?'

'If you were shagging my old man wouldn't you keep it quiet? Jimmy might not be too thrilled when he hears either, love, has that occurred to you yet? All my life she has wanted what I have, she had been jealous of me since day one! I had what she wanted!'

Kim laughed now. 'You can't seriously mean me father, can you? Maggie wanting him, are you off your fucking trolley, Mother? And even if she had, Maggie wouldn't do that to you, she loves you even though you treat her like shit.'

Jackie sighed and then said in a friendly yet sinister way, 'She is dead, Kimmy, get that through your thick fucking head. She fucked my old man, she had a baby with my old man – your words not mine, Kim – and if you think I am listening to all that old fanny about rape you can get stuffed. I will take her fucking head off her shoulders, and yours with it if you interfere any more.'

Kimberley was absolutely terrified now. 'Stop this, Mum, and think about it. Why would she be telling him to leave her alone, eh? Why would she have fucked him off out of it?'

Jackie sighed heavily. Her daughter was just what she needed to start off her campaign of hate. No one was accusing her husband of rape. He was a fucking babe, and Maggie had wanted him because he was hers and she was jealous. In Jackie's mind everyone she fell out with, or had a grudge against, was jealous of her. In her mind she was really something else. Her home was a cause of jealousy, her husband, their lifestyle. It never occurred to Jackie that it was her own vindictive jealousy that caused most of her problems.

To her now, Freddie had been duped, had been led up the garden path by a femme fatale who had been a virgin till Jimmy and who she knew would not have given Freddie Jackson house room if the four-minute warning had just sounded. And they had produced a child – well, for once Maggie could hurt like she had hurt as she watched her little sister make a success of her life, watched her go on to bigger and better things!

Jackie was the eldest, it should have been her who had the salons and the big houses, not Maggie, not little Maggie who she had always used as and when it had suited her and who had suddenly, overnight, become the rich bitch of the family.

How dare she think that she could get one over on her?

Freddie had joked that Jimmy was a Jaffa, and maybe he was right. No other kids had arrived and she knew it wasn't for want of trying. Maggie was desperate for another one, had been since the birth of little Jimmy Junior. She went on about it enough.

Jackie had, it seemed, cried over her husband's bastard, and she would not let that go lightly. Baby be damned, little Jimmy had been her husband's child. He had taken more notice of that boy than he had of any of his own, and she would not forgive that bastard Maggie for that. It was the ultimate betrayal as far as she was concerned. No wonder she had not wanted the poor little flicker, guilt did that to a body, and even her own mother had called her unnatural over her treatment of him.

'Please, Mum, think about what you are doing. He raped Maggie, raped her. Jimmy will kill him, Jimmy will believe her… Like I do, and other people will.'