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hadn't always worked as hard as he should, that he ought to remember that his father was no longer the stronger of the two. 'We can flog the land the warehouse was on, and we can get tick on new stock till we get ourselves together. Besides, I bet you've got a fair wedge tucked away somewhere.'
    George had always been a constant in Harry's life, a boulder to lean on, a font of wisdom and understanding. Most of his mates had no respect for their fathers, but George wasn't just a father to Harry, he was his closest friend.
    'It ain't money I'm worried about.' George's voice was shaky. He did have a few bob tucked away out of sight from the tax man and after a good night's sleep he'd be on top of it all again. 'It's Amy and the kids. MacDonald's a nutcase and he won't stop at torching the warehouse. This place could be next.'
    'But why? He hates 'em anyway.'
    George looked up at Harry and half smiled. He was such a handsome lad, that combination of black hair and blue eyes was enough to make any girl's heart flutter. But though half the girls in Whitechapel chased after him, George knew his son still hadn't found out what love could do to a man.
    'You've got a lot of learning to do, son.' He shook his head and wiped his watering eyes. 'He don't hate Amy, she's probably the only thing he ever loved in his whole life. He might have taken out all his disappointments and failures on her, but he ain't stopped loving 'er.'
    'He's a bleedin' shitbag!'
    George sighed deeply. 'Now he is, but it weren't always like that, 'Arry. He should'a stayed in the Army, that's the place for men like him. But his weakness was Amy and that's why he come out.'
    Harry raised an eyebrow.
    'Bill MacDonald came back from the War a fuckin' hero.' George smirked. ' 'E even looked the part. The papers was full of what 'e'd done. Captured by the Japs, but escaped through the jungle taking 'is men with 'im. We all looked up to 'im, I guess that's why fifteen years on there's still blokes that want to drink wiv him and women still fancy 'im. Mad Mabel, Amy's mum, was the only one who reckoned there was summat dodgy about him.'
    Harry grinned.
    'The Witch of Durwood Street!'
    He remembered the funny old girl chasing him down the road with a bread knife when he was a small boy. She'd had some sort of religious mania and used to stand in the market raving about hell and the end of the world. She always wore a long black coat and a shiny black hat and it had been a test of valour to play knock down ginger at her door.
    Mabel had disappeared from Durwood Street some years ago and for all George knew she might now be dead.
    'She wasn't ever as barmy as you kids liked to make out,' he said reprovingly. 'She had some sort of breakdown when her husband Arthur was killed at Dunkirk. Up till then she was a real beauty. Amy was their only child and when Mabel cracked, she took the brunt of it. Anyway, religion was what got Mabel back on her feet a couple of years later. She met some dodgy Holy Rollers and got sucked in.'
    Harry's eyes widened at this glimpse into history.
    "Then Amy fell for Bill?'
    'Unfortunately. Amy was kept under. Never played in the street, made to go to church wiv her ma, wore dark clothes, just what you'd expect. When she was fourteen she went to work at Modern Modes, a right little drudge her ma made her. She must 'ave bin fifteen or sixteen when Bill came back from out East, God knows where she met 'im, she was kept under lock and key when she weren't working. But they fell in love and Mabel threw her out. She went down to Limehouse to stay wiv 'is folks. A right rough crew they was, an' all.'
    'Go on. So they got married, did they? Was Amy up the spout?'
    George shook his head.
    'I suppose so, but it was real love all right. They was the best-looking couple for miles around. We was all glad for them.'
    He shut his eyes for a moment, letting his mind wander back to that summer of '47. It had been around five or six in the evening and he was packing