Clay scraped his chair back and lit one of his cigarettes; he then stood next to Fran and smoked by the window. He was a good foot taller than Fran and half her width; they were an odd-looking couple, but the strength of their relationship was clear.

Clay looked straight into Jack’s eyes as he spoke, making absolutely certain that he understood.

“Your mum was abusive to my Fran. She was rude, shouting—even hit her once.” Jack was clearly shocked and Fran bowed her head, as if in shame. “He asked, love, so I’m telling him.” Clay directed his words at Jack again. “Your mum’s drinking got out of control and she became depressed. We were looking after three kids under one year old, and Trudie—emotionally and financially.”

Fran took over. “Then she got sick. She had a tumor on the brain—you knew that, didn’t you?” Jack did. Penny had told him when he was old enough to understand. “It was over and done with very fast. She didn’t suffer for long. You were ten months old and we had to make a decision. We couldn’t afford to look after everyone.”

Jack smiled. He wasn’t here to make his aunt feel bad.

“I have great parents, Aunt Fran. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m so sorry for those first five years of your life, though, Jack.” Fran spoke with genuine feeling. “If we could have kept you and done right by you, we would have. Do you remember it?”

Jack could remember moments from his childhood in unfamiliar places, so he assumed them to be from his time in foster care. Some memories were bad, some were OK. His first pleasant memory certainly had Penny and Charlie in it. He didn’t have memories of anything horrific, although he did recall being hit on several occasions. Mostly he remembered care as being a dull and soulless time—spending most days on his own, dreaming of the exciting things he was going to do when he grew up.

“Sounds like you did better without your dad,” Fran suggested. “Jimmy Nunn was a lot of hard work for no reward. He was always letting your mum down. I don’t know where he is now, Jack, and, if I did, I’m not sure I’d tell you. My sister loved you with all her heart, she just wasn’t cut out to be a single mum—but Jimmy . . . Jimmy didn’t love anyone but himself.”

The food at the Dog and Gun was lousy. Ridley had very wisely chosen a ham and cheese toastie with chips, whereas Laura had mistakenly gone for something that needed actual cooking. Her burger was inedible, but fortunately Anik had the constitution of an ox and so finished off hers as well as his own.

“You eat like a teenager on a growth spurt,” she said.

“Well, at least I don’t stink of fags,” Anik blurted out before he could edit his brain. “Sorry, sarge.”

Laura sniffed her top and winced.