They sank into one another, giggling like kids, and Grace felt like a teenager in her own house and it didn’t matter that she had another operation due or that her ma was in prison – she was in love. After twenty-six years together and everything she and Lenny had been through that was worth celebrating, even if only for eight minutes.

Chapter Eighty: Marjorie

Chapter Eighty

Marjorie

MARJORIE SPENT HER DAY in bed. She was too big and too uncomfortable to move. Davey kept her apprised of Molly’s jailing over the phone.

‘Seriously?’

‘Deadly.’

‘God Almighty, Davey!’

‘I’ll see you soon, Marj. Love you,’ he said, and he hung up. Molly Hayes is in jail! She needed the loo so she stood and waddled to the en suite. It was there she felt a severe cramp. What’s this? I’ve two weeks to go. Shit.

She went to the loo and struggled back to the bed where she experienced a second stabbing cramp sensation. Oh no . . . Then she waited for another cramp, looking at her watch. An hour passed and nothing. Maybe it was wind.

She heard Juliet enter through the front door.

‘Juliet? Is that you?’

She heard her feet trample on the stairs before she came to the door.

‘What?’

‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Where’s Davey?’

‘He’s picking up the pram.’

‘Oh yeah. Wanna sit with me and talk?’

‘No.’

‘Just for a few minutes.’

‘I have to go.’

Juliet left and bounced down the stairs and Marjorie sighed and looked to the ceiling. I’m doing my best here, Rabbit.

She called after her. ‘Don’t forget we’re shopping for your bedroom furniture tomorrow morning.’

‘No,’ Juliet shouted up the stairs.

‘No is not acceptable. You will come with me if I have to drag you there myself.’

‘That’s assault.’

‘Yes it is.’

The front door slammed. Marjorie looked to the ceiling. Don’t judge me.

Chapter Eighty-One: Juliet

Chapter Eighty-One

Juliet

JULIET CYCLED PAST FRANCIE’S house eight times before Francie caught her; he was getting out of his van when he spied her wheeling past.

‘Juliet Hayes! Are you stalking my Darren already?’ he shouted, and she stopped her bike and blushed a ruby red.

‘I am not!’ she said, pretending to be horrified by the very idea. ‘I was looking for you, actually.’

‘Really?’ he said, leaning on his van.

‘Have you spoken to Mrs Faye yet?’

‘Give me a chance.’

‘I know, but time is of the essence.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘It’s three months to Ma’s anniversary; it would be nice to do it then.’

‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow.’

‘OK,’ she said, and she started to cycle away.

‘Hold on, what’s happening with your Mrs H?’

‘She’s in jail.’

‘Well, that was always going to happen. What did she do?’

‘She told the judge to go fuck himself.’

‘’Course she did.’