His father came back with a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. 'Let's have a proper drink.'

Freddie accepted his whisky and downed it in one gulp, then he knelt on the floor and snorted a line of amphetamine quickly. Sniffing loudly, he held his forefinger to his nose for maximum effect. The speed was good and it hit his brain in seconds.

'Might as well have a party, eh.'

His father laughed and poured them out more Scotch.

Kitty came back in. She had put on a pair of jeans and a cheesecloth shirt. She looked very young and very pretty. Freddie Senior was grateful to her for getting dressed, it seemed wrong somehow for her to be in a state of undress in front of his son. She sat on the sofa and poured herself a glass of wine.

'Nice little drum.'

She smiled at Freddie then, and he saw why his father was like a dog with three lampposts.

'So you've got a boy, then?'

He grinned again, and Kitty was reminded of how good looking he was. She felt she was looking at his father at the same age – the resemblance was uncanny.

Freddie stood up and said gaily, 'Yeah, me son and heir. Can I get a refill?'

She nodded happily. The fact he was here said that he accepted the relationship with his father. To her this was progress indeed.

Freddie picked up the bottle of wine that Kitty had placed by the whisky, and turned and slammed it with all his might over his father's head. He then stabbed at him with the broken bottle five times, leaving the man a bloody mess.

Kitty saw the blood everywhere, spurting all over her new cream carpet and spraying her walls. Stoned, she was unable to move from the chair. She just stared at the seeping blood in morbid fascination wondering if this could really be happening.

Freddie Senior was lying there, the skin on his face open in gaping flaps. He was literally trying to hold his face together with his hands.

'You cunt! You'd treat my mother like she's nothing? She ain't got a fucking pot to piss in and you're here with your fucking slag?'

He started to punch his father in the head then, heavy, thudding punches that left his hands covered in his own father's blood.

Kitty started to shake, the shock of what had happened was finally kicking in and she tasted the bile as vomit filled her mouth. She swallowed it down and she shouted in horror, 'What the fuck are you doing? I have got kids in there!' Her voice sounded to her as if it was coming from miles away.

'Fuck you, you ugly fucking cunt, and fuck your fucking kids. You ever talk directly to me again and I'll ram that dope up your box and then use you like a fucking bong!'

Freddie turned back to his father.

The children were crying now, loud sobbing cries that told their mother they were frightened. The noise had woken them up. Kitty ran from the room in terror, worried now for the safety of her kids. Neighbours were banging on the walls but she knew they would not phone Old Bill. They just wanted the noise to stop.

'My fucking mother ain't got a fucking bean, you useless cunt.' He watched his father groaning in pain without any kind of compassion. 'You fucking ever treat my mum like that again and I will fucking kill you.'

Freddie Senior, who in his day had been classed as one of the hardest men around, who had worked with the Krays and who was still revered for his past reputation as a bareknuckle boxer, looked at his son and saw the future of their world.

He wanted no part of it.

Life had changed drastically, their world had changed dramatically, but he had never believed that this day would ever have come.

He watched his son snort another line, take a drink from the bottle of whisky, and finally pick up the half-smoked joint, and then he passed out.

Freddie washed up in the spotless bathroom. He liked the colour scheme and decided he might go for something like that when they next decorated.

When he left the flat and the sound of Kitty sobbing and the children's distressed voices a few minutes later, he had a spring in his step and a light heart.

Jimmy watched his father's face. It was puce, and it was riddled with bewilderment and genuine disgust.

James Jackson Senior was livid, and Jimmy could understand that. His brother had not only been beaten badly, he had also been publicly humiliated.

It was hard for anyone of the old school to get their head round what had happened. It was unheard of, it was breaking every unwritten law and the worst of all was, the jury was out until Ozzy's feelings were known.

Freddie's attack had reverberated around the manor in nanoseconds, thanks to Kitty and her big mouth. Jimmy understood his father's ire but he wanted him to keep out of the aftermath if possible.

Unlike his brother, Freddie Senior, James had never been that entrenched in the business. He had been a heavy, still was a heavy if needs be, but basically he liked a quiet life. He had never had the acumen to make it to the top, he was a drone, a day-to-day worker. He had never wanted the spotlight. Why would he? The spotlight was for people who needed to feel validated. James was quite happy with who he was.

Freddie's attack on his father had blown everyone away, not least young Jimmy who had not believed it until he had seen the man for himself. As disgusting as it was, in a way Jimmy understood why it had happened – not that he would voice that opinion out loud, of course. But in a strange way he knew that Freddie was doing what he thought was right. He had, though, as usual gone about it the wrong way.

Freddie Senior had left his wife without any means of support and that was a definite no no. Husbands and sons were there to protect the wife and mother. It was how things worked in their world and Freddie Senior had to be reminded of his responsibilities. No one had a problem with that, it was the punishment meted out that had caused the uproar.

Jimmy also knew that Freddie Senior had pushed his luck over the last few months. When you considered the facts, mainly that he had never in his life had such an easy ticket and was consequently milking it for all that it was worth, you might get an understanding of just how the whole episode had occurred in the first place. If he had just once tugged his forelock the whole chain of events might have been avoided.

But Jimmy kept his own counsel. His was not to reason why, his job was to clear up the shit as and when it fell on them all from a great height.

Maddie, for her part, was devastated at the turn of events, but had taken her husband back with quiet dignity. Yet, in reality, what choice did she have? He would be scarred for life and he was blind in one eye. It would be a reminder every time he looked in the mirror of what his son had done to him, and it would remind him of why. It was a reminder that they could all have done without.

Freddie, meanwhile, acted as if nothing had happened and refused to talk about it. Jimmy had garnered the truth of the situation from Maggie who in turn had got it from her mother.

Maddie and Lena had become bosom buddies overnight.

The child had been the catalyst for that friendship and they both spent every waking hour near the baby. Jimmy almost hoped he had a brood of girls, if boys meant it brought the witches' coven down on them.

Jimmy's mother, Deirdre, a small woman with a pretty face and a slim figure, was cooking as usual. No matter what time of the day or night, she cooked. If you walked into her kitchen at four in the morning, within five minutes a hot meal would be placed in front of you. She had done it enough times for him, and he had been grateful for it. He knew she would not give an opinion either way on the events of the last week and he, like his father, would have been surprised if she had. She was old school, this was men's business and she would leave the men to sort it out.