style="font-size:15px;"> With the Mitchells’ reputation, the majority of their clients paid up on time, and it was an easy life compared to smashing up boozers. There were the odd one or two who needed time to pay, or a couple of clever dicks who tried to knock them, but they always got their dough back eventually. A bullet lodged in the kneecap or the odd finger chopped off always seemed to do the trick and, like magic, their money would reappear within days. ‘Abrafuckingcadabra,’ Eddie would say, laughing his head off.
Both Paulie and Ronny had had their noses put out of joint when their father had retired and insisted on Eddie taking control. But their whingeing fell on deaf ears.
‘I make the decisions in this fucking family and if I decide that Eddie’s the man to take over, then that’s how it’s gonna be. If yous two don’t like it, tough shit – you know what you can do,’ their dad told them bluntly.
Eddie could sense the resentment, especially Ronny’s, at the way things had turned out. Eddie was the baby of the family and should have been bottom of the pecking order. Now a couple of years on, all was forgiven. Eddie’s loan-shark idea had turned up trumps and made him and his brothers very wealthy indeed. They still did a bit of pub protection here and there, but a lot of boozers had been bought by bigger breweries, so they just stuck with their remaining handful of privately owned ones. Uncle Reg was still working with them but, due to health problems, was on the verge of retiring. His walking was giving him gyp, and he was waiting to see a specialist. The poor old sod could barely get about any more and he certainly didn’t need the money, as he’d earned plenty over the years.
‘Uncle Reg wants to pack it in, so I think we need to take someone else on,’ Eddie had told his brothers only yesterday.
‘We don’t need anybody else. The three of us is more than enough,’ Ronny insisted.
Eddie disagreed. They needed a bit of young blood and he had just the right person in mind. All Ronny was worried about was his wallet. He was a greedy bastard and wouldn’t want to share out any of his profits. Ronny had recently bought a house and moved in with Sharon, and all he did was brag about paying cash for it.
The Mitchell family still owned the salvage yard in Dagenham, but Harry had now sold off all the others. He’d made a handsome bit of dough on a couple of them. He’d flogged two to property developers and had come out with well over a million in profit.
Eddie put his foot down as he hit the A13. He’d recently treated himself to a Porsche 911 and loved the fact that its turbo engine left every other car on the road standing. He turned off at Barking and headed towards his old address. When he and Jessica had moved out, he’d allowed his ex, Beverley, and his two boys to move in. Gary and Ricky were now fourteen and twelve and had both been expelled from two schools in Canning Town, where they’d previously been living. Neither were particularly bad lads, but it had hit them hard when Eddie had left home. Without a man around they were forever getting into scrapes and fights, and trouble seemed to follow them.
Beverley had been an awkward bitch to deal with when Eddie had first remarried. She had stopped the boys going to the wedding, and many a time she had cancelled arrangements when Ed was supposed to be having them for the weekend.
Eddie had wanted to kill her with his bare hands on many occasions, but in the end he’d done the sensible thing and hit her where it hurt. ‘I’ve got a right to see my boys every weekend and take ’em away in the summer. You’ll not get another penny out of me, Bev, until you agree to my terms,’ he’d told her.
It had almost killed him knowing that his kids were going without, but he had to be cruel to be kind. Bev held out for two months, then one day turned up in the Flag begging for money and forgiveness. Eddie had had regular contact with his boys ever since. He kept to his word and always saw Bev all right. Most of the money he gave her, she spunked on alcohol and takeaways. She’d only been eight stone when he’d first met her and now she weighed eighteen.
Eddie pulled up outside his old house. He always picked the boys up on a Friday and took them back home on the Sunday. They were doing much better at school since they’d moved to Barking and they loved spending their weekends at his new house.
‘You got all your stuff? Where’s your mother?’ Eddie asked them.
‘She’s drunk. She’s been drinking cider all day and she’s asleep on the sofa,’ Ricky said, giggling.
Eddie ordered the boys to go and sit in the car. Annoyed, he marched in the house and woke Beverley up.
‘Whaddya want?’ she asked, bleary-eyed.
‘There’s your money,’ Eddie said, throwing an envelope at her. ‘Look at the state of yourself, Bev. No wonder them boys have got problems, seeing you like this every day.’
Beverley sat up. ‘I do my best. Anyway, what do you care? All you’re bothered about is the wonderful fucking Jessica and your twins.’
Eddie shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be letting you live here rent free if I weren’t fucking bothered. Drop the bitter act, Bev, it don’t suit you, love, and take my advice – sort yourself out before it’s too late.’
Beverley burst into tears. She knew she’d let herself go and didn’t need Ed to tell her. ‘Go on, fuck off home to your other family and leave me alone!’ she screamed.
Eddie stormed out and slammed the front door. There was no reasoning with Bev when she was pissed, so he might as well save his breath.
‘Can we go in the swimming pool when we get there, Dad?’ Gary asked.
‘Not tonight, son. We’ve got guests coming over for dinner, but you can muck about in there all day tomorrow, if you want.’
Eddie smiled as he listened to the boys gabble away in the back. Since he’d married Jess he’d turned into a proper family man. He loved nothing more than spending his weekends with his beautiful wife and children. Over seven years they’d been married now, and he’d never so much as looked at another woman in that time. Marrying Jessica was one of the best decisions Ed had ever made and he worshipped the ground that she walked on. Like any other couple, they had their rows. Eddie knew he could be a Victorian bastard at times and, overall, Jessica suffered him well.
‘Look, Dad. That house you always tell us to look at has got a sold sign up.’
Wondering if Gary had got it wrong, Ed swung the Porsche around and drove back to be nosy. ‘Fuck me, you’re right son,’ he said mystified.
The house in question was a beauty and, unlike his own, had needed nothing doing to it at all. Eddie had tried to buy the place himself. He had viewed it, but the price was way over the top. The owner lived abroad and wanted well over a quarter of a million for it. Ed had tried to barter with him, but the geezer was having none of it. The house had much more ground than the one Eddie had bought, at least another couple of acres.
Eddie turned the car back round and sped towards home. That house had been on the market for a couple of years and he was desperate to make a few phone calls, see if he could find out who had finally landed it.
‘What are you doing, Stanley? You’ve done a left, ain’t you meant to have done a right back there?’
Stanley glared at his wife. The only thing she had ever driven in her life was him – bloody mad. ‘I do know where I’m going, dear. I have been here before, remember?’
Recognising
