'All right?'
Martin nodded cautiously. 'Yeah, you?'
Little Freddie grinned. 'Got any money?'
Justin Collins was nervous. He was older than Freddie Jackson, but he was not as big and he was not as aggressive.
Martin shook his head. 'No, I ain't got any money, Freddie.'
Freddie stared at the boy for long calculated moments before he drew out a long, thin-bladed knife. He watched in glee as the two boys stepped back in fright, and when Justin pushed his little brother behind him he laughed. 'Looking after the wimp, are you?'
'Leave him alone. I mean it, Jackson, go and pick on someone your own age.'
'And if I don't, what are you going to do about it?'
Cars were flying past them and the smell of diesel was thick in the air.
An old man was watching the little tableau from his flat window. He was deciding if he should call the police when the bigger boy, that Jackson lad whose father had been murdered, stabbed the blond boy in the heart.
Martin was screaming in fear as his brother lay on the filthy pavement clutching his chest. Blood was everywhere and Freddie Jackson was watching it flow as if he was in a trance. Then he snapped his head towards Martin and said quietly, 'Now give me some money.'
Martin handed over the two pounds fifty his mother had given them to go and get her a paper and ten cigarettes from the corner shop.
As Freddie Jackson Junior walked away the shrill sound of sirens could be heard coming over the Barking flyover.
Justin Collins died ten minutes later in the ambulance.
'Are you sure you will be all right, Mum?'
Jackie forced a smile on to her face and only just managed to prevent herself from screaming at them. She knew they meant well, but she wished they would leave her alone sometimes.
'I just want to get into bed and have a sleep, that's all. I am exhausted, it's been a hard few months and whatever he was or he wasn't, I loved your father more than anything. I want to lay here alone and think about him, all right?'
The three girls nodded in unison, and then they all took turns to kiss her good night even though it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.
Downstairs they saw their nana on a mobile and the sight made them all laugh. She hushed them all with a hand gesture as she walked out the front door to finish her call.
'That was so funny.'
The girls laughed again, and Kimberley sighed. 'She ain't right, is she? She is almost nice.'
Roxanna grinned. 'I know it's a bit disturbing at times, but it can only be a good thing. It seems weird thinking we buried our dad today, don't you think?'
She was pouring herself a mineral water, while her sisters were drinking white wine. They all sat on the large, battered sofa and looked around the room which, thanks to their hard work, was clean and shiny.
Dianna started to cry again.
'Oh, come here, you poor little mare.'
Kimberley hugged her sister, who said, through her tears, 'What a terrible way to die. I keep thinking of him being murdered…'
Rox shook her head. 'We told you not to read the papers or listen to the news. You can't let what happened to him get to you, babe, he was not a saint, as we all know. In his world, it's almost an occupational hazard, and you have to accept that or you will never get back on track.'
Since the revelation about poor Maggie, any feelings Rox might have harboured for the man who had sired her were long gone, but she was not going to make her sister's grief any worse than it already was.
'But who would do something like that to our dad? Why ain't the police out looking for them?'
Rox and Kimberley exchanged looks over Dianna's head. They had their own ideas about that but they were keeping them close to their chests. They were upset about what had happened, of course, but unlike Dianna they were realists and they privately wondered how it had not happened long before. Freddie had more enemies than Vlad the Impaler and he made a point of goading them at every opportunity. Dianna was like their mother. She saw only what she wanted to see in people, especially when she was dealing with her father, who in fairness had loved her more than the other two since the moment he got out of prison.
As Kim and Rox had started to see their father for what he really was, they had been pleased that no real connection had ever been made between them. He was a vicious bully who had destroyed everyone who came into his orbit.
They were glad he was gone. Now they could all finally live in peace.
Jimmy drove along at a snail's pace, and pondered the call he had received from Lena two hours earlier. It was the first time he had heard from any of the family since his departure, and he had initially felt very awkward because he had practically lived at her house as a kid. He was wrong to have blanked her and Joe along with Maggie. He thought the world of them, and they reciprocated that affection.
Lena had not said anything about that, but her call had thrown him into a quandary. He also knew that she was right when she had made him promise never to tell Maggie she had contacted him. Maggie was like him in that respect, her pride would not appreciate the gesture, however well meant.
As he turned off the M25 and made towards his house he felt nervous. The feeling was alien to him these days, but as Glenford had said, the longer he left it, the harder it would become.
Now he was ashamed of his silence – she was his wife after all. But after a week's angry silence, he had not heard from her and so he had done what most men do. He had fed his anger, nurtured it, and eventually it had been a month and more and he could find no excuse to call her and he convinced himself that she could just as easily call him if she wanted him. But he knew that he had walked away from her, and in their marriage that meant he had to make contact.
If Lena had not called him he would never have made the first move, and if what Lena said was true, he would have regretted it all his life.
Once he saw Maggie, looked at her, he would know finally whether he could ever live with her again in peace and happiness. The flip side was that he might instead realise instinctively that he couldn't. If he couldn't put the images that tortured him out of his head their marriage would be finally and irretrievably over.
He pulled into the car park of his local pub. He needed to think this through, and he needed a drink to help him muster up some courage.
The knock on the door was heavy and unexpected. Even on the day of their father's funeral no one had bothered to come to offer either their condolences or respects, and the girls had been sensible enough not to have expected it anyway.
Roxanna assumed it was Little Freddie back from his jaunt. She opened the door wide to see two uniformed policemen and two CIDs. Plain-clothes police had always been referred to by her father as coppers in disguise, dressed up like real people. The thought popped into her head and she wanted to laugh. Her natural-born animosity for the police was straight to the fore though and she said sarcastically, 'If you are after me father, you're too late. We buried him today.'
The taller of the two plain clothes stepped forward then and, flashing his badge, which for all she knew could be a bus pass he had done it so quickly, said in a deep and serious tone, 'I am DCI Michael Murray, and I am looking for a Freddie Jackson all right, but it's the son this time.'
Roxanna said in annoyance, 'Oh, have a day off, will you, and leave us to grieve in peace.'
'Is he on the premises, Miss Jackson?'
This Murray was starting to get on her tits. 'What is he supposed to have done now? He was at his dad's funeral most of the day so I think you will find he has a cast-iron alibi.'
Roxanna was feeling incensed. Of all the days to come knocking… and then she noticed there were three squad cars parked up and they were all holding uniforms.