Mother, I am not ashamed of myself. And all the bloody time you and Alastair fuss over her, but deny her proper help as well, she’s never going to get her fucking shit together, is she?’
Rebecca looked at her daughter long and hard and shook her head. Her once charming child was now a rebellious twenty-year-old with a lousy attitude. ‘Your language, Kendall, is absolutely disgusting and it’s hurtful to hear, I have to say. And calling your father Alastair is so disrespectful, and after all he has done for you . . . ’
Instantly, Kendall hopped down from the kitchen stool, and squarely stood in her mother’s face, in defiance. ‘What he’s done for me? Hello! He’s a creep! I never asked to be taken away from my father and dumped into your so-called happy family, did I? I was fine where I was. Just because you felt guilty about leaving me behind and—’
Bam. Rebecca slapped Kendall’s face, and then she immediately regretted it. ‘I am sorry. Look, I didn’t mean . . . ’
Kendall didn’t even hold her cheek, although it bloody well stung; instead, she glared back with a glacial expression. If looks could kill . . . ‘Fuck off, Mother. You’re so pathetic, weak, and fucking stupid. Seriously, take a look at yourself. On the surface, the perfect wife and mother. Then strip back the facade.’
Rebecca wanted nothing more than to shut Kendall up, but she’d already gone too far with the slap.
‘Running around like everything is wonderful, when, really, you know fuck all about what your husband is up to. Then there’s Brooke going out of her mind, and Poppy . . . well, do you even know anything about the jumped-up secret squirrel? The truth be told, Mother, I am probably the most normal person in this shambles of a family. And just a warning: don’t you ever hit me again, or, next time, I’ll forget you’re my mother.’
Pushing past her mother, she reached the door and looked back. ‘Oh, and by the way, I am going to be moving in with my father next week. I am twenty, and I’m sick of you telling me I can’t go anywhere until I pay you back the university fees. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I just want to be a hairdresser. I’m done with you telling me I owe you. You’ll get all the money back from my tips.’
Rebecca gasped. ‘What? No, you mustn’t. I mean, look, please, Kendall, don’t do that, you will—’
‘Ruin my future and blot your social standing? Yes, I know, Mother, and does this fucking face look like it’s bothered? No! Fuck you and fuck your career as well. That’s all you care about. God forbid, I should be a hairdresser! Well, I’m not going into law, and I don’t give a shit about your precious career either.’
Standing in shock, Rebecca jolted as the front door slammed shut. Kendall was right, though. No matter how much she pretended that her eldest daughter was a rebellious, spiteful young woman, she also knew that every word coming out of the girl’s mouth was the sodding truth. Pushing Kendall into a professional career in law – demanding she take a post in chambers – had obviously run its course, and there was no way she could stop her leaving now. The family was falling apart, and, even worse, she was powerless to stop it.
***
Willie Ritz was holding the punchbag while Ricky was tearing into it. His T-shirt and hairline were dripping in sweat.
‘Cor, son, you can hammer this all right,’ said Willie, using all his strength to hold the punchbag still.
As they swapped positions and Willie began throwing punches, Ricky noticed how the scar that ran down the man’s face reddened. He was right when he said the quack had basically made a pig’s ear of it. Still, as much as Willie was frighteningly ugly, he was, as far as Ricky was concerned, kind on the inside.
Ricky was just strong enough to hold the bag, but as soon as his father walked into the gym, he let go.
Willie held his hands up. ‘No way I’m gonna be holding the bag for that fucker.’ He pointed to Mike, who, in turn, laughed.
‘Listen, Willie, can you meet me in me cell with Staffie and Lou? We need to talk.’
‘Er . . . and me, Dad?’
Mike gave Ricky a full cheek-lifting smile. ‘Goes without saying, my boy.’
‘What’s up, Mikey? Everything okay?’
Mike surveyed who was in the room and then looked back at Willie. ‘Yeah, of course.’
Willie knew then that it was serious. Between the lads, they understood every wink, nod, and expression – it was like an unspoken code. Growing up together from babies, they were as close as brothers.
***
An hour later, they were gathered inside Mike and Ricky’s cell. Ted Stafford and Lou Baker sat on Ricky’s bed, while Willie and Ricky sat on Mike’s. Mike shut the door and remained standing as if he was about to give a lecture. They all waited for the announcement.
‘So, I had a visit from the Police Commissioner, no fucking less.’
Willie licked his fag paper and raised his brow. ‘Oh yeah? What the ’ell’s that all about, then?’
‘Well, lads, he wants our help—’
Lou jumped in. ‘Since when do we ’elp the Filth?’ It was unusual for Lou to interrupt; he was usually the quieter one, who generally chose his words carefully. He was the man who could pull off acting like royalty, if need be.
‘My thoughts exactly, Lou, but here’s the thing. They have been overrun with crimes that not even the likes of us would condone, and it’s rife out there. The police haven’t got the manpower they used to have. It’s to do with politics and cuts or something like that, so there ain’t enough of the Ol’ Bill to bring these gangs to their knees.’
Staffie, who was Mike’s closest friend, scratched his bald head. ‘I dunno, I don’t get it, Mike. What’s it got to do with us, anyway?’
‘Listen up. We’ll be released early, all of us, in return for throwing our weight around and looking like we’re helping them, when, really, we ain’t. I don’t know the exact details. The Commissioner will be back to visit me in a few days to discuss it a bit further. But, whatever, I ain’t said yeah to it. You know me. No fucking way would I help the Filth. But what if we agree to their deal, and then, once we’re out, we treat it like a game to our advantage? What d’ya say if we rough up a few scallies that we would anyway, and, in the meantime, we use their blind eye to make a fucking mint?’
Willie puffed on the end of his roll-up, and then he let out a smoke ring. ‘We ain’t grasses, and we ain’t the Ol’ Bill.’
Mike nodded in agreement. He’d expected this reaction. It was who they were. Grassing to the Filth was a no-no in their line of work. ‘Yep, mate, you’re right, but these little firms have not only been mugging pensioners but they’re into killing kids as well. A twelve-year-old boy was murdered on his way home from school. And, oh yeah, they’ve been gang raping young girls.’
Staffie sat up straight. ‘Shit! Fucking bastards.’
‘Yep. So, they may be villains, but, really, they ain’t like us, or like the real Faces in London. If these two-bit gangs think they can muscle in on my manor, then they’ll get a shock, and whatever happens, we won’t get nicked. See what I’m saying? We won’t be helping the law, we’ll be helping ourselves to take back our turf and run the little shites out of town. Let’s face it, we would do that anyway. I’ve been away a long time, and I wanna get back out there and take back what’s mine, as ya know.’
‘If we were to agree, how far will they let us go? And what’s really in it for us? I mean, what about our own business? Are they gonna turn a blind eye, or, after they get what they want, will we find ourselves back in the slammer?’ asked Lou.
Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘The finer details, I don’t know, but, before I get another visit, I need to know what you guys want. Let’s face it, we could make a lot of money out of this. Think