A big thank you to cousin Simon for all his help on law and order. Best I don’t mention your surname, mate, as being related to me is hardly going to further your career!

And last but not least, a special mention for Harry Redknapp, his staff and all the players for their wonderful achievement of getting Spurs into the top four last season. Credit also to Daniel Levy, who in my opinion has done a fantastic job in getting the club back where it belongs. Having said all that, I am writing these acknowledgements before our Champions League draw has even taken place and knowing Spurs as well as I do, they’ll probably make me look a right mug by falling flat on their faces. Oh well, whatever happens, it sure won’t be the first time I’ve made a complete tit out of myself, and I doubt it will be the last!

Ever since that fateful night in Tilbury, Eddie had shed enough tears to fill a swimming pool. Nothing was going to bring her back, so what was the point of crying any more?

Stuffing the letter under his mattress, Eddie lay back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. He’d give anything to turn the clock back, fucking anything.

The bullets he had fired had been meant for somebody else, not his beautiful wife. To make matters worse, Jessica had been pregnant at the time with their third child. The unborn baby hadn’t stood a chance, God rest its soul. The newspapers had had a field day writing about Eddie’s faux pas, the headlines screaming ‘Gangland boss in double slaying’.

As soon as Eddie had realised his fatal mistake, he’d immediately tried to take his own life. Unfortunately for him, Jessica’s brother Raymond had lunged at him and knocked the gun away. Eddie had still managed to pull the trigger, but the bullet had whizzed through his shoulder, not his brains, as he’d intended it to.

Waking up in hospital and realising he was still alive was the worst moment of Eddie’s life. Jessica was his world and he just couldn’t live without her.

Consumed by grief and guilt, Eddie immediately admitted what he’d done to the filth. Seven days he’d then spent in hospital under police guard. Once well enough to leave, he’d been carted off to Wandsworth nick.

Eddie was shoved into a cell with an Indian guy who introduced himself as Raj Malik. Company was the last thing Ed needed or wanted. He couldn’t even eat, let alone talk.

The screws must have read Eddie’s mind when they put him on suicide watch. The pain caused by his blunder was unbearable, and if he could have found something to top himself with, he’d have done it without a second thought.

Eddie had been with Jessica for over seventeen years, and from the moment he first clapped eyes on her, he’d known she was destined to become the love of his life. She was everything a man could want in a woman. She was beautiful on the outside and had a soul to match.

Overall, their marriage was an extremely happy one. Like most contented couples, they’d had their ups and downs over the years, but their love for one another had always remained intact.

Tall, with dark hair and a rugged complexion, Eddie had looked like a scar-faced giant beside his pretty, petite wife. They’d looked good together, though. Everybody used to comment on what a striking couple they made.

Jessica had fallen pregnant within months of them meeting. Eddie married her weeks later, and even though he already had two sons from a previous relationship, he had never felt as content as the day Jess had given birth to their twins.

Frankie and Joey were sixteen now and Eddie knew that he’d lost their love and respect for ever. How could he even consider contacting them when he’d so brutally wiped out their mother’s life?

Feeling a shiver go down his spine, Ed sat bolt upright, hugged his knees and laid his head against them. He was forty-eight years old, his life was all but over, and he wished he was fucking dead.

That fateful night would haunt him for ever. It was on his mind every second of every day. Even sleep didn’t release him from his burden, because his nightmares replayed the tragedy over and over again.

As the screw opened the flap to check on him again, Eddie snapped out of his trance. Knowing the letter was under the mattress was doing his head in. He ripped open the envelope and began to digest the words.

With visions of his wife’s mutilated body firmly in his mind, he leaped off the bed and, overcome by grief, repeatedly smashed his head against the cell wall.

‘Jessica, Jessica’ he shouted, as blood began to trickle down his forehead.

As two prison officers ran in, Eddie lashed out at them. He didn’t want to be restrained, he wanted to end his misery once and for all.

Two more screws suddenly appeared out of nowhere and, finally overpowered, Eddie sank to his knees.

‘I don’t wanna live any more. Please just let me fucking top meself,’ he screamed.

Joyce put on her tinted glasses and headed downstairs. The flowers had just started to arrive, and she wanted to arrange them neatly. She had to keep herself busy, it was the only way. Not only that, she was determined that her daughter would have the best send-off ever.

Stanley sat in his newly built pigeon shed and stared at his beloved birds. He was all ready – he even had his new suit on – but he’d rather leave Joyce to deal with the tributes.

Putting his head in his hands, Stanley broke down for the third time that morning. The flowers arriving made everything seem so final.

Jessica’s death had torn a huge hole in all of their lives. What had happened that night was nigh on impossible to understand, and living hell were the only words Stanley could find to describe life since. There wasn’t a parent in the world who imagined outliving their children, and he was no different.

Stanley had disliked Eddie Mitchell from the word go, but now he despised him with a resentful passion. Living in his house was a constant reminder of the murdering bastard, but it was Joycie’s decision and he’d had very little say in the matter.

As his two favourite pigeons, Ernie and Ethel, both cooed at him, Stanley lifted his head, wiped his eyes and smiled sadly. Seconds later, he heard his wife’s dulcet tones.

‘Stanley! Get your arse out that shed. Raymond and Polly have just arrived.’

Taking a deep breath, Stanley stood up. He was literally dreading the day ahead and it would be a miracle if he got through it at all.

Her mother’s death and the circumstances surrounding it had created the biggest underworld talking point since the Brinks Mat robbery. The press had had a ball, they’d milked it for all it was worth.

‘Gangland boss kills wife in jealous rage’, ‘Gangster finds wife in bed with daughter’s boyfriend’, ‘Mitchell’s moment of madness’ were just some of the headlines Frankie had seen.

Most of what had been written was just awful, vicious lies. A couple of the more sensible papers had got the story right, but the ones at the lower end of the scale had written absolute trash just to sell their papers.

Both Frankie and Joey had barely left the house since their mother’s death. Frankie had sneaked out a few times to meet up with Jed, but on the last occasion the press had seen her climbing over the back fence and plastered her picture all over the papers.

‘Picture of innocence’ had been the sarcastic headline.

Frankie was mortified. All her friends had seen it and had called her on her mobile. Instead of being a victim, Frankie felt like the accused.

Things at home had been no better. Her nan and grandad had moved in to look after her and Joey. Jed wasn’t allowed anywhere near the house and every time Frankie mentioned his name, everyone in the room went quiet.

Frankie missed her mother dreadfully, but what had happened was neither her nor Jed’s fault. She hadn’t asked her father to turn up at Tilbury with a gun, had she now?

As her brother dissolved into tears yet again, Frankie hugged him. Joey wasn’t as strong as her, and he wasn’t coping very well at all.

‘Listen, Joey, in a minute we’ve got to go downstairs and face everyone. You’ve got to be brave for Mum’s sake.’

Joey threw himself on his bed. ‘I can’t go to Mum’s funeral. I just can’t face it. Let me stay here, Frankie. Tell Nan and Grandad I’m not well.’

Frankie stroked her brother’s back. Joey had been as close to her mum as anyone had. That’s why Frankie hadn’t already moved in with Jed: she couldn’t have lived with her guilt if she had left Joey at home with her grandparents. They were twins, had been inseparable, even in the womb; no one could look after him like she could.

‘Come on, Joey. Put your suit on, and we’ll go downstairs. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

Joey sat up. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve got Jed to look after you. Mum’s dead, Dad’s in prison and Nan and Grandad do my head in. I’ve got nothing and no one, Frankie, and I know you’re gonna be moving out soon. What am I gonna do then, eh?’

Frankie squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll only be living down the road, Joey. And what about when I have the baby? You’ll be an uncle for the first time, and I know you’ll be the best uncle ever. All you have to do is stop blaming Jed for everything, then you can be part of our lives.’

As she finally persuaded Joey to get dressed, Frankie made a mental note to ring Dominic the following day. Her brother had barely spoken to his ex since their father had found out Joey was gay and threatened Dom, but now Eddie was banged up, he could ruin her brother’s relationship no more. Joey was desperate for love and support and Frankie needed him to be OK before she could move on with her own life.

Downstairs, Joycie was keeping herself busy. She’d chatted to all the mourners, kept their drinks topped up, and managed to convince herself that she was over the worst. No amount of sobbing would bring her beautiful Jessica back from the dead, so she just had to get on with things.

It had been kind of her friends, Rita and Hilda, to come to the house, instead of just turning up at the service. They’d been her neighbours at her old house in Upney for over thirty years, and had known Jessica since she was knee-high.

‘So, what do you think of the house?’ Joyce asked them brightly.

Rita and Hilda glanced at one another. Joyce liked to act as if she was as tough as old boots, but they both knew that she wasn’t. Her behaviour today, considering what had befallen her, was strange, to say the least.

Gary and Ricky, Eddie’s sons from his previous marriage, had just turned up and, seeing them in deep conversation with Raymond, Stanley eyed his son suspiciously. Joyce might have forgotten about Raymond’s involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder, but Stanley most certainly hadn’t. If it wasn’t for Joyce, he could have quite easily washed his hands of the boy, but his wife had given him a lecture.

‘Now, you listen to me, Stanley, and you listen bloody carefully. I’ve lost one child and if you think I’m having the other banished from our lives, you can think again. Our son had nothing to do with what happened. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, that boy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved every hair on our Jessica’s head, did our Raymond.’

Joycie wasn’t one to argue with, and Stanley had little choice other than to agree and reluctantly forgive his son. Trouble was, deep down he hadn’t – it was all pretence.

As the twins appeared, there were lots of emotional condolences. Vicki, Jessica’s heavily pregnant best friend, sobbed as she clung to Frankie. ‘I loved your mum so much. She was such a wonderful woman. I’ve already told Dougie, if we have a little girl, I want to name her Jessica.’

Tears were streaming down her face, but Frankie forced a smile. ‘Mum would have been honoured,’ she whispered.

As more and more people arrived, Stanley became increasingly anxious. All he’d wanted was a quiet send-off for his daughter and already it was turning into a bloody circus. The driveway was packed with people he didn’t know and Stan was furious that Eddie’s brothers had shown their faces. It would have been bad enough if they had turned up at the church, let alone coming to the house beforehand. Surely they were aware of what Eddie had done? Didn’t they have any remorse or guilt whatsoever?

By the time the hearse arrived, the driveway was a mass of beautiful flowers.

As she cuddled her grandchildren, one on either side, Joyce couldn’t bear to look at the coffin she’d so carefully chosen. It just didn’t seem possible for Jessica to be inside that box. Trying to suppress her emotions, Joyce took a deep breath. She had to keep it together in front of all these people. Stanley was in a terrible state and somebody had to look after the twins. Aware that the undertaker was ready to take Jessica on her final journey, Joyce led Frankie and Joey outside.

Seeing his father almost collapse with grief, Raymond held Stanley’s arm to support him. ‘I’ve got you, Dad. Just hold my arm and walk with me,’ he told him.

Joyce had insisted they just have the one family car. She’d never got on with her parents – she hadn’t even seen them for years – and they were going straight to the service. Jessica’s other grandparents, on Stanley’s side, were both dead.

Joyce, Stanley, Frankie, Joey, Raymond and Polly sat in the hearse behind the coffin. Everybody else was to make their own way to the cemetery. In normal circumstances there would have been at least three or four cars laid on for Eddie’s sons, brothers and family. However, the circumstances surrounding Jessica’s death were anything but normal.

As the chief undertaker walked in front of the hearse, the cars crawled along behind him.

Stanley was furious as he saw how many reporters were taking pictures on the road outside. ‘Couldn’t they have left us alone for just one day?’ he mumbled.

Raymond put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulder, but it was quickly brushed away.

Noticing the young reporter who had given her a wonderful write-up in the Daily Mirror, Joyce gave a solemn wave. Stanley went apeshit. ‘Our daughter is lying in that coffin in front of us. Show some respect, you stupid woman. Fucking parasites, they are.’

Raymond put his other arm around his mother. This was as hard a day for her as anyone and acting normal was just her way of coping.

Frankie and Joey clung to one another throughout the short journey through the lanes. Neither could believe that they would never see or hear their mother again. As she stared at the coffin, Frankie thought of her father. Throughout her childhood, Frankie had always been a daddy’s girl. She had his dark features, fiery temper and impulsive nature. Joey looked nothing like Frankie or their dad. He was blond, mild-mannered and a clone of their mum.

‘Do you think Dad knows that Mum is being buried today?’ she whispered to her brother.

Joey looked at her in horror. ‘Don’t mention his name. How could you Frankie, today of all days?’

As the rest of the journey continued in silence, Polly studied Raymond’s family. They were a funny bunch, to say the least, especially his parents. Polly’s own parents had been horrified when Jessica’s murder had made all the nationals. They’d known that Raymond worked with Eddie and they were worried about what she’d got herself involved with.

‘I know you’re very keen on Raymond, but there’s plenty more fish in the sea. Why don’t you walk away while you still can?’ her father had urged her.

Polly had taken no notice of her mum or dad. They weren’t exactly whiter than white themselves. She was besotted by Raymond, in a way that a woman could only dream of. She wasn’t stupid – she’d always known that he was a bit of a rogue, but even so, the circumstances of Jessica’s murder had frightened the life out of her.

Raymond had recently made a promise to her. He’d sworn that he would give up the job he was doing and find a normal nine-to-five number.

‘Are you OK, Ray?’ Polly asked, squeezing his hand.

Raymond nodded, but said nothing. Obviously, working with Eddie over the years, they’d seen and been responsible for many a dead body. Remembering how Jessica had looked, Raymond felt physically sick as he stared out of the window. The sight of his sister’s bullet-torn corpse would prey on him for the rest of his life. There wasn’t an hour that went by when the death of Jessica didn’t enter his thoughts. His sister had been one of life’s beautiful people. Thinking back to when they were kids, Raymond nervously bit his lip. Life without her was pretty much unbearable, and he was dreading doing his speech.

When Joyce stepped out of the hearse, she was surprised by the number of people already at the church. They’d tried to keep the funeral small and private, and she was thrown by the crowd of mourners that had turned up. Grabbing the distraught Joey and Frankie, Joycie bowed her head as she led them into the church.

Raymond had instructed all of Eddie’s family to sit well away from his parents. ‘I know none of this is your fault, lads, but because Eddie did what he did, it ain’t appropriate for you to sit near the front.’

Eddie’s sons from his first marriage, Gary and Ricky, were devastated by Jessica’s death. They’d loved her immensely, and over the years she’d been a better mother to them than their own. Seeing their dad in prison had broken both boys’ hearts. They knew how much Jess had meant to their old man, and what had happened was the tragedy of all tragedies.

Eddie had only agreed to see them the once. He was a broken man, a shadow of his charismatic former self, and had sat opposite them in bits. Neither Gary nor Ricky had known what to say or do. It was a surreal situation that had devastated everybody. The only words of comfort they could offer their father were to promise to continue the family business and do him proud.

‘All right, Gal? Packed innit?’ their uncle Ronny said in a loud voice, as the boys now entered the church.

Seeing that Ronny’s eyes were already glazed, Gary put his finger to his lips. The service was about to start, and a drunken Ronny causing havoc in his wheelchair was the last thing the vicar needed.

The vicar cleared his throat. He was a seasoned professional, but this particular service was difficult, even for him. ‘Today we are here to commemorate the life of Jessica Anne Mitchell,’ he said.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as parts of Jessica’s life were remembered. The twins and Stanley were inconsolable. Joyce couldn’t look at them; if she did, she’d break down, so she ignored their sobs and stared at the vicar.

‘Can we open our hymn books at page twenty-one?’

As the congregation stood up, Raymond had to once again physically support his father.

Jimmy O’Hara put an arm around his son’s shoulder. Jed was a good boy and had been determined to attend Jessica’s funeral, so he could keep an eye on Frankie. Not wanting his son to become raw meat in a starving lion’s cage, Jimmy had insisted on coming with him. Jed was worried about Frankie; she was carrying his child and he had every right to be there in her hour of need.

Jimmy knew what losing a child was like. His wife, Alice, had been pregnant up until a couple of weeks ago, when she’d suddenly miscarried.

As the hymn came to an end, Ronny Mitchell decided he was busting for the toilet. Being stuck in a wheelchair, he was unable to hold himself like other people could. Nudging his brother, Paulie, he urged him to take him outside.

‘I need a shit. I’ve gotta find a bog,’ he said in an extremely loud tone.

As Raymond stood up to give his speech, an embarrassed Paulie also stood up. Ronny was a nuisance with a capital N at times.

‘Jessica was the most wonderful sister a brother could wish for,’ Raymond began.

While Paulie wheeled his brother towards the exit, a nosy Ronny scanned the mourners. The church was full of villains, most of them mates of Eddie, his father and his uncle Reg. Spotting Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly mush, Ronny did a double take and slammed the brake on his wheelchair.

Because he was staring at the piece of paper he’d so carefully written, Raymond didn’t notice what was happening at the other end of the church and, with tears rolling down his face, carried on with his speech.

‘The day Jessica gave birth to her twins, Frankie and Joey, was the happiest of her life. Even though she was no more than a child herself, she quickly adapted to become the most wonderful . . .’

Raymond’s speech was stopped in its tracks by Ronny’s drunken voice. ‘Get out of here, you pikey cunts! Hit ’em, Paulie. Go on, fucking do ’em,’ he yelled.

Shocked by the commotion, every mourner turned around to see what was happening.

Jimmy O’Hara held his hands up. ‘Look, we don’t want no trouble. I’ve only come here to support my Jed. He has every right to be here. Jessica was his future mother-in-law and would have been grandmother to his chavvie.’

When Paulie lunged at Jimmy O’Hara, the vicar pleaded for order. ‘Can we stop this awful nonsense? Please respect the deceased and also the house of God,’ he shouted over the loudspeaker.

Uncle Reg eventually broke up the fracas and, with the help of Paulie and a couple of Eddie’s pals, they threw both Jed and Jimmy out of the church.

‘Frankie’s having my chavvie – we’re getting married. Tell ’em Frankie, tell ’em,’ Jed screamed, as he was roughly pushed out of the door.

Frankie went to run to her boyfriend’s aid, but Raymond put his arm out and stopped her. ‘You stay there. It’s your mother’s funeral, and you’re partly to blame for all this,’ he reminded her coldly.

Traumatised, Stanley and Joey clung to one another and, seeing their anguish, Joyce was unable to keep it together any more. Bursting into tears, she fell to her knees. ‘The least my baby deserved was a good send-off. Why us, God? Why?’ she screamed.

Raymond sadly shook his head. Like most men, he was sceptical about the idea of life after death, but if by any chance it did exist, his sister would be horrified by what had just happened.

The vicar quickly wrapped up his speech with a prayer, then led the mourners outside for the burial.

Joyce had all but collapsed and was now sitting on a chair, sipping water and being comforted by friends and the curate. ‘I can’t watch my baby being put into that grave, I just can’t face it,’ she wept.

Urging Stanley to walk on ahead, Hilda and Rita crouched down either side of her. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Joycie. Jess knows you’re here and that’s all that matters,’ Rita said kindly.

Jimmy and Jed had now disappeared, but Ronny was still there. Ray caught up with him and gave him a sharp dig in his shoulder. ‘Did you have to kick off in the middle of my speech? Ain’t you got no fucking sense? Why didn’t you wait till we all got outside?’

Looking remorseful, Ronny shrugged. ‘I know me and Paulie fell out with Ed, but he’s still me brother, Ray. When I saw them pikey shitbags there, I just lost it. How dare they fucking turn up?’

Raymond sighed. He felt the same as Ronny did himself. The difference was, he had a brain, so would have handled things better.

As Ronny held out his right hand, Raymond unwillingly shook it. ‘Look, no hard feelings, but I think it might be best if you don’t come back to the house afterwards. Me mum’s proper upset by what happened in the church and it ain’t fair on her.’

Ronny glanced at Paulie. He hated missing out on a free funeral piss-up. ‘I ain’t gonna upset your mum,’ he slurred.

Realising Polly had now caught up with him, Raymond linked arms with her and said no more. Ronny could have a full-scale argument with an ant, and Ray just wasn’t in the mood to row with him.

Joey broke down completely as his mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground. ‘I want her back, Frankie, I really want her back,’ he sobbed.

With tears streaming down her own face, Frankie cuddled him. ‘I want her back as well, Joey.’

Overcome by grief himself, Stanley led the twins away. ‘Let’s go and find your nan,’ he told them gently.

The mood in the hearse on the journey back to the house was extremely sombre. Annoyed with herself for breaking down inside the church, Joyce was the first to pull herself together. ‘Look, I know the service never went as well as we planned, but let’s see if we can give Jessica a good send-off back at home. It’s what she would have wanted, I know it is,’ she said brightly.

Admiring his mother’s strength, Raymond squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll second that. Let’s do our Jessica proud.’

The other prisoners did his head in and he couldn’t give a shit about exercising or watching the telly. Nothing mattered any more, his life had all but ended. Chewing his lip, Eddie guessed what the time was. The funeral must be all over now, it had to be. Wondering how the service had gone, Ed wiped the sweat from his brow. His Jessica, his beautiful wife, was probably now lying six foot under and it was all his bloody fault. Hearing the jangle of keys, Eddie looked up as two screws walked in.

‘Up you get, Mitchell, you’re being moved early,’ the tall one said.

Eddie looked at the two guards in amazement. He had another two days to do in solitary yet. ‘Why am I being moved?’ he mumbled.

As the two guards grinned at one another, Eddie knew that his already awful day was about to take another turn for the worse.

‘You in there, Stan?’

Recognising his best pal Jock’s voice, Stanley opened the door. ‘Come in, mate. I’ve stocked up with bitter; let’s have a beer in here, eh?’

Jock followed him in and sat on the wooden bench. His heart went out to his pal, Stanley and, having a daughter himself, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the poor bastard must be feeling. Cracking open a can, Jock studied the pigeons.

‘I think you should breed Ethel with Willie rather than Ernie next time,’ he said, trying to cheer Stan up.

Stanley shook his head. ‘Ethel hates Willie! Her and Ernie are inseparable, he’d be heartbroken, like I am now,’ he replied, bursting into tears.

Jock moved towards his pal and awkwardly put an arm round his shoulder. ‘Go on, Stan. Let it all out, mate.’

‘I miss Jess so much, Jock. What am I gonna do without her, eh?’

Jock had no answer to Stanley’s question. ‘I don’t know, mate.’

As she stared at the three older ladies with Gary and Ricky, Joycie suddenly remembered who they were. Ed’s auntie Joan, his aunt Vi, and his father Harry’s lady friend, Sylvie. Most families would have been appalled by the heavy presence of the Mitchell clan, but Joycie wasn’t. Being old school, she saw it as a mark of respect, not a fucking liberty.

Stacey smiled at her. ‘I’ll go and get you one. I’m sure another weak one won’t hurt the baby, Frankie.’

As Demi and Paige followed Stacey into the house, Frankie pretended to Joey that she was going to the toilet.

‘I’m busting to go meself, so I’ll come with you,’ he said.

Frankie was annoyed. ‘For fuck’s sake, Joey, leave me alone for five minutes, will ya?’

Running up the stairs, Frankie shut her bedroom door. She was desperate to ring Jed, to make sure he was OK.

Jed answered immediately, and then launched into a torrent of abuse. ‘I swear on our chavvie’s life, Frankie, if you don’t get your arse down to my trailer in the next hour, I’m gonna come round to yours and fucking drag you down the road,’ he ended.

Not for the first time that day, Frankie began to cry. ‘Please Jed, it’s my mum’s funeral and I can’t leave, not yet. I promise, as soon as today’s over, I’ll sort things out with my family and then we can be together. I’m sorry for what happened earlier with my uncles, but that’s not my fault. Please be patient, Jed. I can’t leave Joey on his own, not tonight. He’s not ready.’

Jed seldom lost his temper, but when he did, he lost it big style. ‘I’ve had enough of this now, Frankie. I know what happened to your old girl was awful, but don’t treat me like a fucking dinlo. I know you’ve had a drink, I can hear it in your voice, and I ain’t having it, not when you’re carrying my chavvie. I’m telling you again, if you ain’t back within the hour, I’m coming round there. I’ve had a gutful of your family and, as far as I’m concerned, all of ’em can go fuck their grandmother.’

As he cut her off, Frankie slumped onto her bed. Joey, who had followed her upstairs anyway and heard her side of the conversation, opened her bedroom door. ‘When are you going to realise that Jed’s an arsehole and he’s no good, eh?’ he said, as he held her close.

‘What am I gonna do if he turns up here? Raymond will kill him, I know he will,’ Frankie sobbed.

For once, Joey was the strong one out of the two of them. ‘Listen to me. There’s Raymond, Paulie, Uncle Reg, Uncle Albert and all Dad’s mates here. Jed won’t turn up here today, trust me. He’s bluffing.’

As he dried her eyes with his handkerchief, Frankie forced a smile. Jed had never spoken to her like that before and she was furious with him. How could he treat her like that, today of all days?

Joey held his sister’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go back downstairs, and you can sort things out with Jed tomorrow.’

‘I’m so sorry I never got much of a chance to talk to you earlier. It was just such a difficult day and I didn’t really know if I was coming or going,’ Stan apologised.

Ivy hugged her son-in-law. Stanley was a lovely man, but her Joycie had never truly appreciated him. That’s why she and her daughter had never really seen eye to eye. Joycie had always blamed her mother for encouraging her to marry Stanley; the silly little cow had always thought she was worth more.

‘I’m so sorry, Stan. Me and you knew all along what that Eddie was capable of, didn’t we? Do you remember Jessica getting married to the bastard? I told you at the reception that he had them eyes – you know, cold and calculating. I’ll never forget it, that man sent shivers down my spine and I just knew he’d ruin her bleeding life.’

Keeping half an eye on his wife, Stanley nodded. ‘I remember that conversation, Ivy. I told you that his eyes reminded me of dead fish.’

Hearing his old woman screech with laughter, Stanley decided enough was enough. Storming over to where she was standing, he roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her into the kitchen.

‘What do you think you’re doing? You senile old bastard!’ Joyce yelled at him.

For once in his downtrodden life, Stanley had the bottle to give her what for. ‘How can you stand there laughing and joking with Eddie’s relations when we’ve just buried our daughter? What is the matter with you, eh? Your parents are disgusted by your behaviour and so am I, and I’ll tell you something else, shall I? If you think I’m living in that murdering bastard’s house one day longer than I need to, you can think again, Joycie.’

Shocked by Stanley’s outburst, Joyce did her best not to show it. ‘Move, then, if you don’t like it. You go back to that pokey council house of ours, see if I care. I’m staying here, ’cause it makes me feel close to my Jessica.’

Aware of Eddie’s sons, Gary and Ricky, staring at them, Stan led Joyce out on to the front drive.

‘You must think I’ve just stepped off the banana boat, Joycie. When we first found out Jessica had been murdered, you couldn’t agree with me enough about Eddie and his family. You soon changed your mind when you moved in ’ere though, didn’t you? All you’ve ever wanted is a nice, big house so you can show it off to your friends. I’m not as shallow as you, Joycie. I know exactly what you think of me and the home I’ve worked my bollocks off for over the years. I even bought it for you off that right-to-buy scheme ’cause you begged me to and I’ve bought you new furniture at your every whim. Well, I’ve had enough of it now, and tomorrow I’m going back home. You can do as you please. Stay ’ere on your own, for all I care.’

Joyce was gobsmacked. Stanley had rarely raised his voice to her throughout the whole of their marriage. As he walked away, she stood open-mouthed, and for once she said nothing.

The shorter guard grinned at the taller one. ‘No, Mitchell. The guvnor decided you and Malik weren’t suited and you needed better company, so he’s found you a new home with a nice friendly English cellmate.’

Ed had been in the cell for what seemed like four hours now and he still didn’t have a clue who he was sharing with. Apart from a few belongings, there was no sign of the geezer.

When he heard the key slot into the lock, Eddie picked up his book and pretended to read it. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he felt his heart leap into his chest as he recognised his new cellmate.

Seeing Dougie and Vicki, her parents’ friends, heading her way to say goodbye, Frankie forced herself to be polite. About to get Vicki to take her mobile number so when she gave birth they could swap baby talk, Frankie heard a commotion coming from her left.

‘Get out of here, before I kill yer,’ she heard somebody yell.

Looking around, Frankie dropped Vicki’s pen in shock. Jed was sitting on a nearby wall, telling her uncle Reg where to get off.

Reg hobbled towards Jed. ‘Do yourself a favour, son, and get the fuck out of here, before you get hurt,’ he warned, his eyes bulging.

‘I’m going nowhere without my wife-to-be. You do whatever you have to, you senile old grunter. Frankie belongs to me and she’s coming with me right now.’

Aware that Gary, Ricky and Raymond had all run out of the house, Frankie began to scream. ‘Don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt Jed,’ she begged.

Jumping off the wall, Jed showed no fear as Raymond went for him. ‘Frankie’s my woman,’ he screamed, as Raymond caught him straight on the chin.

Watching Jed fall to the grass, Frankie intervened and chucked herself on top of him. Seeing his uncle trying to manhandle his sister, Joey also joined in the fracas.

‘Leave Frankie alone,’ he shouted, as his weak punches landed nowhere.

Having been told that it was all kicking off in the garden, Joyce flew into action. ‘Oi, whaddya think you’re doing?’ she screamed, as she lost her footing and stacked it in one of the flowerbeds.

As all hell broke loose, Frankie decided enough was enough. She needed to make a decision, and if she was ever going to leave home, that moment was definitely now.

After the mass brawl in the garden the previous evening, he’d sodded off upstairs without saying goodnight to a single soul. Jessica’s funeral had been a catastrophe from start to finish, and Stanley would never forgive the bastards that had ruined it. Animals, that’s what the Mitchells were, and he was just glad that Jock had already left when the whole wake kicked off.

Pulling his suitcase out from under the bed, Stanley began to pack his clothes. The quicker he got out of this cursed house with its awful memories, the better.

Joyce got up and put on her dressing gown. Her recollection of the previous evening was vague, to say the least, but she could sort of remember a big fight happening. Noticing a large bruise and cut on her leg, she winced as she touched it. Surely she hadn’t fallen over in front of all the mourners? Desperate to get rid of the taste of brandy, Joyce made her way downstairs to make herself a coffee. Gagging for some fresh air and to rid the house of the smell of stale smoke, Joyce opened the conservatory door.

‘Christ almighty,’ she mumbled in complete astonishment.

Jessica’s once-perfect garden looked as if a bomb had hit it. All the furniture was smashed to pieces. The wooden table was lying upside down and the chairs had no legs left on them.

Shuffling outside, Joyce put her hand over her mouth as she noticed that all the beautiful flowerbeds had been trampled on. Seeing shards of glass by her feet, she turned to her left. The three smashed windows were the final straw for Joyce, and she ran back into the house.

‘Stanley! Stanley!’ she screamed.

When Stanley marched down the stairs with a suitcase in his hand, Joyce looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What are you doing? What’s with the case? You seen the state of the garden? Everything’s smashed to smithereens.’

Dropping his case, Stanley ran out the back. He’d locked the pigeon shed, but what if it had been smashed or the birds had died of fright? Fearful for the safety of his babies, Stanley shook as he put the key in the door.

‘Thank God,’ he said, as all four cooed at him. ‘Daddy’s here now and he’s taking you back home, away from this loony bin.’

‘What are you gonna do about cleaning this mess up, Stanley? I think I’ll ring Raymond, he’ll know a glazier. The twins can help an’ all. I mean, we don’t ask ’em to do much, do we?’

For once in his life, Stanley felt like a man as he spoke. ‘You ask who you like, Joycie. I won’t be here. I told you yesterday, I’m moving back home.’

Joyce remembered bits of what Stanley had said the previous day about leaving, but she thought it had been one of his little tantrums. ‘Don’t be silly, Stanley. You can’t leave me here on my own.’

‘Come with me then, Joycie. I told you last night, I cannot live in this house one minute longer, and I meant it. There’s too many memories, and it’s making me ill.’

Joyce had waited all her life to live in a luxury property and she wasn’t about to walk away from it without a fight. Turning on the tears, she begged her husband to stay. ‘Please don’t go, Stanley. It makes me feel close to Jessica, living here. I can almost feel her presence at times. And what about the twins? You can’t leave them. They need both of us.’

Stanley shook his head. It was obvious Joyce didn’t remember that Frankie had done a runner last night. ‘Cor, you must have been well gone, love. Frankie left home last night. Don’t you remember the gypsy boy turning up here for her? That’s what started the fight. I bet you don’t even recall falling arse over tit in the flowerbeds, do you, dear? No, well you wouldn’t, would you? I’m off, Joycie. Jock’s coming round in an hour with the van. He’s gonna take the pigeons back for me.’

As he walked back out to the garden, Joyce glared at him. Stanley had always done just as she had wanted throughout their entire marriage, and she couldn’t understand what had suddenly got into him. Remembering what he’d said about Frankie, she went up the stairs and knocked on Joey’s bedroom door.

‘Joey, it’s Nan. Can I come in?’

‘Just leave me alone. Go away,’ Joey shouted.

Desperate to know exactly what had happened the night before, Joyce tried the handle. The door was locked. After the morning she’d had, Joyce quickly lost her temper and screamed at her grandson.

‘Open this door now, Joey, else Raymond will kick the bastard thing down. He’s on his way over, you know. He’ll be here in five minutes,’ she lied.

Her fib worked, and as Joey unlocked the door, Joyce stormed in. As she clocked the state of her grandson’s bruised face, Joycie’s temper melted.

‘Oh my God! What happened, love?’ she asked, as she sat on the edge of his bed.