Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End

is a matter of opinion and you are entitled to yours. But I know in my heart it was the road Dad would have gone down. In my book, there was no doubt whatsoever as to continuing the business.' He paused as for a second saw his mother gazing back at him in the form of Sean's honest blue gaze. God only knew how the old man had worked the flankers he'd done and kept the old girl in such blissful ignorance. But he had and Ronnie commended him for it. Now it was history repeating itself and with Mum gone, it was Sean who had taken up her mantle. But Sean was the new generation of Bryants and as such, had either to support the business or get out of it completely.

'Seany, let me put you straight on one thing. Mum never died because of what we did. It was nothing to do with us, so get that through your Uncle Ned. She died because a maniac in another country decided to start a war. And that's a fact you're going to have to accept.'

There was silence in the room. Ronnie glanced at Micky who was sporting a face as long as a fiddle. 'Right, Micky, now it's your turn.' He braced his shoulders back and added firmly, 'I'm not sitting here all day looking at your moody gobs, so speak your mind or forever hold your peace.'

Micky kicked the table leg idly. 'Since you're asking, Ron, what I don't fancy is Old Bill sniffing round. I've been shitting bricks lately, every time the door goes. Stands to reason they know Mum's gone and she won't be here to tell them to sling their hook. So where does that leave us, I ask? And the answer is, we're sitting here like three orphaned ducks.'

'So what is the alternative?'

'I reckon we get shot of this last little bundle. Take a dip on our profits if we have to, but just get clear of it.'

Ronnie nodded slowly. 'Fair point. Any suggestions what we do with it?'

'It's too hot for the markets and it would take too long to flog it round the pubs. What about shoving it Luffman's way? He'll rook us something chronic, but we'll have to swallow on that.'

Ronnie begrudged giving Goldy Luffman the contents of his nose, let alone a generous deal, as he was the meanest sod this side of the river. However, Goldy took anything and everything and asked no questions. 'All right. Suits us this time, but from here on in we'll find somewhere legit to stash our Georgie Woods.' He turned slowly to Sean. 'So, are you up for a clean sweep, Seany?'

'What choice have I got?' Sean replied moodily.

'You've always got a choice in life.' Ronnie stared hard at his kid brother who up until this moment had always been just that, a kid. But with Mum gone he was going to have to step into the real world. 'You don't have to come with us on this one, bruv. Me and Micky will do the business. We'll sort out the Anderson and see Goldy.'

'You what?' Micky objected, for the first time sitting up and paying attention.

'I said Seany can sit this one out.'

'But it took all three of us to move it,' Micky protested. 'A whole lorry load it was, buried six-foot down under a bloody shelter. We was at it like navvies and only finished just before the All Clear went.'

'We'll manage.' Ronnie's tone was final. 'Sean's staying put.'

'So what if I decide to sit on me arse all night, too?' Micky sulked.

Ronnie sighed heavily. There was something in both his brothers' attitudes that worried him. Sean was frightened of his own shadow and Micky was in love with himself. They both needed to realize they had to give a lot and take a little between themselves. They were family. And if family couldn't hack it, who could?

Micky continued to stare at him resentfully. There were rings round his blue eyes and a hollow look to his face. With his curly brown hair he was like their Dad, a charmer. Sean had the same intense blue gaze but with his light brown hair and soft, smooth features he was their mother all over. Now Ronnie looked at his two brothers and knew they would never be kids again, at liberty to fight amongst themselves and be stopped by a cuff round the ear. Now there could only be one leader. And as the oldest, he was it.

'Right then,' Ronnie said decisively. 'I'll dig out the van and bring it round as soon as the first raid starts. There'll be no lights on anywhere and plenty of noise to distract any nosy parkers. I'll reverse up to the back wall and Sean, you can help us load the stuff, but then you'll come back in here and lie low. Me and Micky will drive over to Goldy's and be back before first light.'

'It'll be a bloody miracle if we are,' Micky grunted.

'We did it before. We can do it again.'

'That is if Jerry don't drop one on our heads.'

Ronnie smiled. 'He'll have to catch us first.'

Ronnie expected further protest and was prepared for it. But Sean hung his head, trying to disguise his wet cheeks and Micky was busy still kicking the table leg. He had always had a laugh at anything remotely serious. After Mum, he didn't know how to act.

'And just to refresh our memories,' Ronnie continued, his gaze not leaving his brothers' faces. 'We'll keep this gaff ship shape, then. I don't want to find so much as a fag end under your beds – or anything else come to that. In other words, if the law was to shove its nose inside this house, all they'd find is a layer of dust and even that would be sweet smelling. Are you hearing me, you two?'

'Yeah, yeah.' Micky rolled his eyes.

Sean nodded in silence.

'And no outside jobs,' Ronnie added