'They should have been here by now, Freddie.' Patricia lit a cigarette, also snide. These were knocked up in China and they had everything from the right boxes to the right import dockets. They were ten pence a pack, and they knocked them out in the two hundreds all over the smoke for fortunes. It was like having a licence to print money.

'They had better get their arses in gear, right?' she said.

Freddie heard a van pull up outside and sighed theatrically. He knew how to play the game and Pat was getting on his wick acting like he was her fucking ball boy.

The men he was meeting were two brothers from Liverpool. They were young, ambitious and basically braindead.

They had been taking a lot of the merchandise from them and relocating it up their end of the country. All well and good, except the brothers now owed Freddie a lot of money and after repeated requests for payment, and outrageous and insolent excuses for the lack of moolah travelling back down the Ml, they were about to get what was known in their game as a severe warning.

The two brothers were called the Corcorans. Shamus and Eddie were in their twenties and were loud, funny and good company. Now they would have added to their résumé, piss takers.

As they walked into the dimness of the warehouse they were both smoking cigarettes and, as usual, laughing. Seeing Freddie, they both slowed down. He was not supposed to be there, and they had believed they were meeting with his minions, Des and Micky Fleming, and Bobby Blaine.

'Hello, Freddie, we didn't expect to see you today.'

Freddie grinned, all white teeth and camaraderie. 'I know. How are you, boys?'

They shrugged simultaneously. 'Great, yourself?'

Shamus was the brains of the outfit and he was uneasy. He knew Freddie was going to have to have a word, and he tried to pre-empt him. 'We've got some of your money in the van.'

Pat laughed. 'That makes a fucking change. We thought we were giving out to a new charity, the Liverpool ponces' society. You a member, eh?'

Freddie laughed then, a genuine, friendly laugh that relaxed the two men. 'How much you got for me, then?'

He sounded all right and the brothers relaxed. Freddie smiled. In his tracksuit pocket he held a set of knuckledusters. They were custom-made and spiked, and they would do a lot of damage in the minimum of time.

Shamus flicked his hand over his shoulder in a friendly way. 'We've got ten grand out there.'

Shamus was a large lad, but he did not have the presence he needed to intimidate. His brother did have the presence, but he lacked the killer instinct. They would always work for someone and that someone would always leave them to take the flak. It was sad, but it was a fact of life.

'Go out to the van, Pat, and have a rummage, see if you can locate any poke. I'll meet you outside in a minute.'

She nodded to Freddie and walked sedately away from the men.

Shamus knew what was coming and braced himself. He had taken the piss, he knew that, but his brother was not the sharpest knife in the drawer and he wanted to protect him.

'Look, Freddie, let me brother go, mate. I'll take whatever is coming… it was me who pissed the money away, not him.'

Freddie admired him for his loyalty. He understood that the younger brother was obviously not a contender for The Krypton Factor, so he made a snap decision. He brought his hand out of his pocket and attacked Eddie with all the force he could muster. Shamus jumped in but Freddie knocked him to the ground.

Freddie took Eddie's face off in under two minutes.

Then, once he had dropped to the floor, he turned to Shamus and grinned at him as he kicked the boy's ribs into mush.

Exploit any weakness to your advantage. Freddie had lived by that rule all his life and it paid off. Shamus's weakness was this poor boy who would spend the rest of his life with breathing problems, due to a punctured lung, and a face full of Mars Bars, courtesy of his knuckle-duster.

He also knew his money would be there within the week.

Freddie had already taken care of the Liverpool end, so he had not stepped on anyone's toes. Shamus would find that out soon enough, so he decided not to add to the boy's burden today by telling him he had nowhere to go for retribution. This was an out-and-out straightener.

He shook hands with Shamus before helping him sling his brother into the back of the van and giving him directions to the nearest hospital.

'No hard feelings, son, but you remember to pay on the nail in future if you want to carry on doing business with me, OK?'

He was being magnanimous, he was being the big man and letting the lad know that it wasn't personal, it was just business. He was trying to help him with his future endeavours, giving him a lesson in the big boys' way of trading.

After all, it was Easter Sunday. He could afford to be nice one day of the year.

Jackie was rocking, and her loud laugh was getting even louder. She was taking the piss out of Maggie as usual, calling her Mrs Bouquet in one breath, and reminding her of her beginnings in another.

It was a pattern and Maggie was used to it, but she knew that Jimmy never would be, that he was on the verge of throwing her out. He wasn't worried about Freddie's reaction to his aiming Jackie out the front door, though, he was more worried about hers. Freddie was always urging him to send his wife home, telling him it was his house and he should not let Jackie mug them off in it.

But Maggie understood her sister's disappointment in her own life, and knew that every time she saw her she was reminded of a youth she had thrown away on a man who had no real care for her and who, for some strange reason, she could not live without.

Joseph stared at his eldest daughter. She was so far gone he knew it was a miracle she was still able to talk. They were all in the dining room. The meal had been perfect, and the kids had been good, even Little Freddie who always underwent a personality change at Maggie's house. They were now enjoying port and brandies and the cheese platters Maggie made up so beautifully, and Jackie was getting personal and vindictive.

'Why don't you shut your fucking trap for once?'

Joe was pointing at his daughter with a cheese knife, and Lena was trying to pull his arm down all the while saying quietly, 'Leave it, Joe, you'll only make her worse.'

Jackie poured more brandy for herself. 'Well! Who does she think she fucking is, with her fucking family dinners and her fucking big house, looking down her fucking nose at me?'

Maggie sipped her port and sighed. She had been here many times before, and as ever she would sit it out until Jackie went into the lounge and fell asleep.

'Well, let me tell you something, lady,' Jackie poked herself hard in her ample chest. 'I am a better person than you, remember that. I am a better fucking person than you will ever be.'

She was now pointing at Maggie with a long fat finger. The nail varnish was chipped and her hands were chapped and sore looking. 'I don't need cars and fucking houses to make me feel good about meself.'

This was a familiar rant and Maggie ignored her, waiting for her to get it out of her system, but Kimberley shoved her head towards her mother and said nastily, 'Why would you need cars to make you feel better, Mum, you've got fucking alcohol.'

Somewhere in Jackie's head the words penetrated and she knew the girl was speaking the truth, but the thought of her daughter saying that to her was like a knife in her chest.

Lena was nearly in tears. She dreaded this and every time it happened it upset her more. She knew it was all their own fault. They had allowed Jackie to get away with it, and consequently she now believed she could do and say what she wanted whenever she wanted. This should all have been nipped in the bud years ago.