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First published in Great Britain by Preface Publishing 2010
Published by Arrow Books 2013 This edition published by Harper 2017
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2010
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017 Cover photographs © Mohamad Itani/Arcangel Images (woman): Shutterstock.com (background).
Kimberley Chambers asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9781409050308
Ebook Edition © Jan 2017 ISBN: 9780008228668 Version: 2016-12-14
AS EDDIE MITCHELL ran his fingers along the side of the baseball bat, he could feel the beads of sweat forming along his forehead. It was one of those muggy days, where flying ants appeared. It was far too hot to be suited and booted and stuck in the back of a Transit van.
Eddie listened intently as his father repeated his instructions. âWe donât want an all-out war, so nothing too heavy, boys. This is a little warning for âem, and if they donât get the message, then heavyâll come later.â
As the rest of the family discussed the feud, Eddie sat in silence. In his eyes, the OâHaras had taken a fucking liberty and deserved more than a little warning. For as long as Ed could remember, his dad, Harry, had run the pub protection racket in the East End. No one messed with the Mitchells, no one dared, and then, like an unwanted disease, the OâHaras appeared on the scene and tried to muscle in on their patch. Eddie was the youngest member of the family firm. His dad ran the show, along with his uncle Reg. Then there were Paulie and Ronny, his two elder brothers.
âYou OK, son?â
Smiling with anticipation, Eddie nodded at his father. The OâHaras were a travelling family who had recently moved to the East End from Cambridgeshire. Eddie hated travellers. In his eyes, they were uncouth, lowlife, inbred scum. In particular, he hated Jimmy OâHara. He was the strongest of the sons, the loudest, and flash didnât even begin to describe him.
âI wanna be the one to take out Jimmy, Dad.â
Harry eyed his son proudly. Even from an early age, Eddie was the one full of promise, and Harry knew without a doubt that one day his youngest child would be head of the family business.
As the Transit van pulled up outside the pub, the Mitchells clutched their weapons.
âRight, letâs do it,â Harry said as he sprang from the van.
Barging his brothers and uncle out of the way, Ed followed his father into the boozer. âSee you? Youâre dead, you piss-taking pikey cunt,â he screamed as he spotted Jimmy OâHara and lunged towards him.
As the pub erupted into full-scale mayhem, Eddie was grabbed around the neck from behind.