'So were you, Lena.'

'And look what happened to me.'

'You didn't do too bad, you got me didn't you?

She laughed disdainfully. 'I won the pools me, did I?'

They laughed together as Lena wondered what he would do if he knew his young daughter was on the pill.

Men, they never saw what was in front of their faces.

Micky Daltry was happy today. His wife was in a good mood because he had bought her a new coat and shoes. His kids were all at her mother's house, and they were going out for a nice slap-up meal to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

She was a good one, his Sheila, and he was sensible enough to know that. She kept the place clean as a pin and the kids were well dressed and well behaved. They all had her looks, thank God, and his nous. A winning combination.

'Come on, Sheila, the cab will be here in a minute.'

She was laughing as she walked down the stairs of their semi-detached house. It was decorated in magnolia matt paint and it was her pride and joy. As was the shag-pile cream carpet that drove the kids mad because they had to take their shoes off at the door. Unlike their mates who wore their shoes in the house until they were put to bed. Then and only then did they take their shoes off along with their coats.

Even their father followed the rule, and that was how they knew they had to.

Sheila Daltry had long blond hair, a slim figure, even after three children, and a nice nature. She had a quiet, sunny personality, the complete opposite of her husband. Micky was noisy, funny and secretive. He wolf-whistled her and she was thrilled.

A banging on their front door came then and Micky opened it with a flourish.

Freddie Jackson was standing there with a smile on his face and a baseball bat in his hands.

Micky's instinct was to try to shut the door, but after a few seconds' struggle, Freddie forced it open without any trouble.

Inside, he shut the door gently.

Sheila looked at her husband and shook her head sadly. Micky was terrified and could only hold his hands out in supplication towards her. Then he turned slowly towards Freddie, who said brightly, 'I take it you won't be offering me a cup of tea, then?'

Maggie was happy, really happy. She was in love, and it was obvious to all her friends.

Already the story of Freddie's party was doing the rounds of their small world, and Freddie was now like a conquering hero. The stretch limo alone was talked about for ages by the girls and the decadence of it was discussed in serious tones. It was their dream to be like movie stars or pop queens.

'Did you get a ride in it, Mags?'

This from Helen Dunne, friend or enemy depending on who was being slaughtered by the girls at any given time.

Maggie shook her head. 'Nah, but I could have if I wanted to. Jimmy was in it all day, he loved it. Said it had drink in it and everything.' She was lying, but they all chose to believe her.

'That right he beat up Willy Planter?'

Maggie nodded once more. 'Willy was out of order, fucking drunk!'

She toked deep on her Benson amp; Hedges cigarette. 'Jackie looked beautiful, you should have seen her.'

Maggie's voice was wistful. She loved her sister so much, looked up to her, depended on her.

All the girls sighed.

'That Freddie is a bit of all right though.'

This from Carlotta O'Connor, a well-developed girl who already had a reputation for drink, cannabis and older boyfriends.

They all laughed, scandalised, except Maggie, who said dryly, 'I'd keep that to meself if I was you. My sister is funny where he's concerned.'

It was a warning and everyone knew it. Maggie looked out for anything about her sister she saw as a slight. Jackie had her faults, but she was her sister and she loved her.

Carlotta just smiled, she had her creds, she wasn't scared of anyone. Though she would rather not come up against Jackie Jackson.

'Jimmy seems to be a permanent fixture.'

Maggie grinned. 'He had better be.'

They knew what that meant and started ragging her. She took it well but deep inside she was worried. Now that she had put out she was frightened he would aim her out of it. But she had been unable to resist him any longer, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

'You all right, Mags?'

She smiled happily. 'Never better.'

Micky was staring at Freddie Jackson in abject terror. Sheila was still standing on the stairs watching the scene before her with resignation.

The cab driver bibbed his horn and Freddie said to Sheila, 'Get that cab, sweetheart, and go to your mum's because me and your old man are going to have a few words.'

She nodded and both men watched as she slipped from the house.

'Nice drum, Micky, you wanna see my house. Right shit hole it is with no money coming in, you treacherous bastard.'

The baseball bat came down on Micky's shoulder in an instant and the blinding pain shot through him, causing him to scream. He dropped heavily to his knees.

'Look, Freddie-'

'Shut your fucking lying thieving mouth, you ponce. My old woman was scrimping and fucking scratching while you and your kids were living the life of luxury on my fucking dough. Do you think I am a cunt, then?'

Micky was crying now and this was annoying Freddie Jackson more than the original affront. Poking his finger in the man's face he raged, 'You cry, you cunt. I done a lump and I kept you right out of it because I am a loyal fucking person. Whereas you, you never even gave my family a drink, no comp, no nothing. I went away for conspiracy to rob and firearms, you sat on your fucking ring with all the dough! You had to have expected me at some point, surely? I want me comp.'

Micky was holding his shoulder painfully as he said through his tears, 'I didn't have nothing to give them, I was only just keeping meself…'

Freddie dragged him through to the front room. It was painted in pale greens and creams and had a leather corner unit, nice colour TV and a decent sound system. He threw his one-time friend on to the sofa and systematically smashed the place up with the baseball bat, all the time shouting and poking the baseball bat towards the cowering man.

'Any money you scavenged should have gone to my kids, I kept you out of fucking clink, you two-faced wanker, and you never even saw them all right for Christmas! I lost my fucking liberty and you sat here with your fucking offspring and never thought about my poor Jackie struggling to make ends meet, did ya?'

He attacked the man again with the bat, beating him with his considerable strength. The blood was all over the cream leather sofa and, taking a few seconds' rest, he saw that he had opened up Micky's head. The spray went up the velour curtains and on to the Artexed ceiling.

He took the large bay window out with one forceful blow. He could see the neighbours on their steps listening to the latest palaver, but most of them had already wished him well so he had no fear of the police.

He was gratified to have caused serious damage. He wanted this event to hit the pavement, he wanted people to know that he was back. Back on the street and more than capable of settling scores, old or new. He was going to get involved in some serious skulduggery and he was not going to settle for anything less than complete domination of their world. He had learned a lot in nick, and he was going to utilise that knowledge and his new contacts to their full potential.

Micky had taken the piss big time over the years and Freddie had to stop that now, show him that he was not a man to be walked over.

They had been on their way to a meet with some friends, and the boot had been full of guns. Micky had jumped out of the car to buy a pack of Rothmans when the filth had given Freddie a tug. He had fought them, as was expected, and he had denied any knowledge of Micky Daltry being with him. Freddie had got the mandatory nine years for the firearms charge and he had kept his head down and his arse up, as was also expected. But Micky should have looked out for his family. Micky had been given a lucky escape and Freddie had not resented that. Why would he? Better only one of them had a capture, and unfortunately it had been him this time. Such was life, an occupational hazard for them.