Josh and Shauna moved into a rented flat over a chippy in the East End of London the week after they’d looked at the show house on the new building site. The week after that, Josh drove his old Zephyr back from the bank, where he’d kept an appointment with the manager. Shauna was still bending his ear over how much she wanted to get that show house, to not be at the mercy of landlords, so against his better judgement he’d gone to the bank to see how the land lay. He wished he hadn’t bothered. He was wondering how he was going to break the news to Shauna, but she was waiting at their new rented place that was never going to be big enough or good enough for her – she’d already made that perfectly plain – and the instant he was through the door she was on him.

‘Well? What did they say?’

‘Turned me down,’ he said.

In fact, the bank manager had said a lot more than that, none of which Josh felt inclined to share with Shauna. With a look on his face that said there was a bad smell in his office, he’d listened as Josh listed the things he was doing to earn a decent crust, including some legal boxing bouts – although most were not legal at all – some door work, some landscaping and even lately a bit of tarmacking with some of his old Romany contacts. Then he’d asked whether Josh could produce three years’ worth of books, certified by an accountant.

Josh couldn’t. He didn’t keep books. Who the hell did in their right mind? Next thing you knew, the taxman was on you and you were in double-deep shite. Cash in hand was always king. But that didn’t cut no ice with banks and accountants. So, a mortgage? No chance. He could go and whistle for that.

‘Turned you down?’ Shauna’s face was thunderous. ‘They what, those bastards? How could they? You’re a good earner.’

‘Without a steady income, Shaun,’ he said, taking her in his arms. ‘Jesus, thinking about it I must have been crazy to even go near a bank. As far as the taxman’s concerned, I don’t even exist. There’s no chance we can get a bloody mortgage, it’s too damned risky.’

‘Then what the hell are we going to do?’

‘Look, we’re renting and that’s good enough for now. This place is all right, ain’t it?’

Shauna looked outraged. ‘All right? It’s a poxy little flat over a chip shop. We both stink of chip fat.’

‘Don’t go getting yourself upset, it’s bad for the baby.’ Josh thought that was uncalled for. This place wasn’t exactly Ideal Home material, but it was good enough. It was several steps up from a trailer, that was for sure.