Her mum really pissed her off at times. Her dad said because her mum was a pessimist she always felt that something bad might happen, but Sharon felt that it went deeper than that. She could almost sense the resentment in her mother every time they purchased something for the house or they talked about their plans for the future. They had plans – big plans – and they would work together as hard as they needed to see them come to fruition. Unlike her mum, Sharon was a working partner in her marriage – and she had a knack for the betting shop. She had been taught well by old Isaac, and he was pleased to see the young couple have the opportunity to better themselves. Unlike her mother, of course, who seemed to think this was all a precursor to a mighty fall. It hurt Sharon to think that her mum wasn’t thrilled to see her only child doing so well, and at such a young age too.

She sighed heavily. She knew she had to forget about it. That was her mum, a prophet of doom. Her dad said she was always the glass-half-empty sort, his old woman, never half-full. It was her nature, and there was no changing her. Fuck knows, he had tried over the years. Catholic guilt, that was what was behind it apparently. But it still hurt and, though she loved her mum, Sharon had to be honest and say she was starting to get on her nerves. She wondered why, when everything was going so well, there was always something to bring you back down to earth. Without realising it, Sharon was echoing her mother’s thoughts entirely.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Southend was empty. It was the end of the season and in the dim daylight it looked scruffy and unkempt. The seafront only ever really looked good when the night fell, and all the flashing lights and glamorous colours attracted the eye.

‘We’re early, Reggie. Let’s go to the cockle sheds and get something to eat in the Crooked Billet. They do a handsome fish and chips in there. Sharon and me used to come here a lot when we was courting.’

Reggie stifled a smile; it was such an old-fashioned word, ‘courting’, but then he knew that Lenny had an old-fashioned streak. As they drove back towards Leigh-on-Sea, the North Sea looked grey and ominous in the darkness of the day. It was going to storm, and a few drops of rain started to hit the windscreen. When they got to Marine Parade, the heavens opened and a flash of lightning lit up the sky. The thunder was rumbling and they knew that soon the storm would be overhead.

‘You and Sharon have been together a long time, haven’t you? I mean, considering your ages.’

Lenny nodded, not at all sure he was happy discussing his wife with this man who was his . . . His what? Potential friend? Boyfriend? Lover?