Jimmy really did not need this, but he had to sort it out or Freddie could be dead by the evening. Ozzy had a long arm, and he had a short fuse. He decided to tell him the truth, more or less.

'Look Oz, Lenny was having us over. He was taking his wedge and still ripping us off. We went round his gaff to sort it and he went mad. Said he was your mate, he knew you way back when, all the old shit, and then it went off and Freddie done him. Bosh, bosh, simple as that.'

'Well, if that was the case, why were you dithering? Why the fucking cloak and dagger?'

Jimmy shrugged, and Ozzy saw the sheer power of this young man and knew he had made a good choice.

'He was your mate. I think he felt he had a right to take what he wanted, and Freddie was only going to give him a dig. It just all got out of hand. He was a lairy old fucker.'

Ozzy nodded knowingly. 'Lenny was always a cunt to himself, but he was a good earner, you said yourself how good he was. So why was he feeling the need to cream anything off the top?'

Jimmy was impressed. He realised that Ozzy had sussed it out and he hated himself for lying to him. But what could he do?

Ozzy could see the confusion and the divided loyalty on the boy's face and he liked him even more for that. Freddie was on a death wish, of that he had no doubt. Even in stir he had caused untold aggravation with people he should have left in peace. It was what people like Freddie did. Their whole life was a series of events, and they caused most of them because without the upset and the danger they didn't feel alive. It was this trait that had made Ozzy take Freddie on in the first place, had been the reason he had found him so useful, but this was also what had made him overlook Freddie in favour of this lad here when the opportunity had arisen.

Ozzy knew all about his antagonising the Blacks at every opportunity. He knew all about the dead girl, and he knew about the other little occasions that Freddie thought were secret and therefore unknown to the general population.

Ozzy had a network of people who, in one way or another, answered to him directly, and Jimmy had no real concept of just how intricate that network was. Even Jimmy himself was watched and observed by people he had no idea were on Ozzy's payroll. That was how it all worked.

Ozzy was away for the duration. He knew that now, and his brief had explained it to him in simple terms. They had no intention of letting him walk out without a fight and without him doing a complete turnaround. That meant either becoming a born-again Christian, or doing degrees in sociology or psychology and acting like one of the Guardian-reading lifers he loathed so much.

Because he refused to show any remorse for his crimes, he knew his parole was a long way off, but this suited him. He had been away so long he was now at ease with his environment. He was happy enough because that was what you had to do to survive a big lump. He was cutting his nose off really, because if he would only feign remorse and regret, and kiss the parole board's collective arses, he would be out sooner rather than later. But it was his pride and his standing that stopped him from doing that now. Plus he liked it in here.

'Look, Ozzy, it happened and I dealt with it, OK?' Ozzy smiled then. 'Did you listen to yourself just now?' Jimmy shook his head, glad that Ozzy had a smile back in his voice.

'You said, "it happened and I dealt with it", right?' Jimmy nodded, intrigued. He loved it when Ozzy gave him a lesson in life, and this was what he was going to get now.

'Those words tell me that you had to sort out a mess, a mess that was caused by Freddie Jackson having a mad half-hour and therefore killing poor Lenny for fuck all. Was Freddie doing him out of his few quid? Because Lenny would argue the toss with Man Mountain Dean over a fifty pence piece if he thought he was being had over. Also, Lenny would not take on Freddie or yourself unless he thought he had just cause, which brings us back to money and a fair wage for a good job. He was an earner, he was also my old mate, so he had a right to expect a bit of leeway. Now I ask you one last time, son. Did Freddie do a wrong one, or was it really just a tear-up that got out of hand?'

Jimmy sighed and, pushing his fingers through his thick dark hair, he said quietly, 'He asked for it, Oz. He asked for it and he got it. What more can I say?'

Ozzy shrugged, knowing he was lying, but understanding why. 'Subject closed, then. One last thing, though. Is his old woman after comp?'

'Yes.'

'Cheeky mare, but give it to her because she has always had the knack of keeping her trap shut. Do not give her reason to open it, OK?'

Jimmy knew he was being told that if he didn't want Ozzy to find out the truth for sure, then he should pay her a decent sum.

'Tell Freddie I will let this one go, but tell him one more casualty and he will regret it big time.'

Jimmy was nodding again, but he was quiet, and Ozzy admired his acumen. 'Look, Jimmy, remember when a friend of mine left stir and came to you and Freddie, and the two of them became bosom pals?'

Jimmy looked wary. Bobby Blaine had been on course for a lump from the day of his release.

'Well, he is back inside, not something I was surprised about, but he had a few little anecdotes about Freddie that troubled me. Now, while Freddie is of use to me and mine he is safe. You have given him the benefit of the doubt and I respect that, but if he oversteps the line again, or becomes a liability in any way, shape or form, then I will expect you to sort it out for me once and for all. Do you understand what I am saying?'

Jimmy nodded once more and Ozzy could see that he was capable of doing what was needed. That was all he'd been interested in, really, and now he had his answer.

'Come on, Maggie, cheer up.'

Roxanna was smiling and Maggie forced herself to smile back. Rox was a good Saturday girl, and she used her so she would never be alone.

'Have you been sick again?'

'I feel a bit off, that's all. Nothing to worry about.'

Roxanna looked at her aunt closely. The hair was perfect, the make-up was perfect, but she looked wrong somehow, looked dilapidated, looked all frayed around the edges.

They were in the salon in Leigh-on-Sea. It had just been refurbished in chrome and glass and it was looking fantastic. It overlooked the sea and today, even though it was cloudy and dark outside, the salon, named 'Roxy's' in honour of Maggie's favourite niece, looked inviting, sophisticated and, as was important in Essex, expensive.

Although it wasn't cheap it wasn't actually that pricey, which was the secret to making money in Essex and East London. If it looked good, and if it looked high-priced then you were laughing all the way to the proverbial bank.

As she looked at her newest addition to her chain, Maggie felt nothing. Her usual pride was lost inside her. But she was getting to be such a good actress that no one really noticed. Even her mother had got off her case. She was smiling, she was talking, she was to all intents and purposes back to herself.

But Jimmy knew that despite their success, and the love they had, they couldn't talk any more.

He had stayed out all night again, and she had been pleased, relieved that he wasn't there. Because he was with Freddie, she had even managed to sleep a bit, relaxed in the knowledge that Freddie wasn't going to pop round, or ring her up to talk to her about nothing in particular, while all the time terrorising her.

Roxanna had put the kettle on and made them both coffee. As Maggie sipped hers the urge to vomit was so strong she retched over one of the brand-new glass basins. Her coffee went everywhere, and she dropped the mug on to the floor as she dry-retched over and over again.