They always dropped in on their Auntie Bernie to clean up properly before they went home. It had always been that way. The Aunt only ever saw them looking perfect. Even as little boys they had done it. Filthy rotten, they’d drop in on Bernie and she would spruce them up. It was their mark of respect for the woman who had brought them up and whom they loved wholeheartedly.

The clock chimed six and of one mind they rose to leave. ‘Thanks for the tea, Auntie Bernie.’

Bernadette kissed them both. Delia, the younger cousin at eight, held her arms up for a kiss and Boysie threw himself on the carpet, holding his leg.

‘Oh... Oh! Help me, I got a bone in me leg, maybe two!’ Bernadette, Delia and Rebecca laughed at his antics. Bernie dragged him up.

‘You are a case, Boysie. Here, let me brush your coat down.’ Out in the hallway she took a clothes brush from a hook by the coatstand and brushed at his coat. Smoothing the shoulders with her hands, she said, ‘There you go, son. All ready for Briony.’

The two boys kissed her on her cheek. ‘Thanks, Auntie Bernie. See you tomorrow.’

Leaving their car in her drive they walked to their own house.

Briony was writing some letters when she heard the front door open. As always, she felt a rush of pleasure at the thought the boys were once more in the house.

‘Hello, boys. What’s to do?’ she greeted them.

She had asked them this same question every day of their lives from young babies and somehow they expected it, welcomed it, and always answered in the same way.

‘We’re doing all right.’

Briony rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “‘We’re doin’ all right”? Is that what that bleeding poncey school was costing me the national debt for!’

Both boys grinned sheepishly.

‘Come here and give me a big kiss.’

Standing, she hugged them, looking even smaller between the two big hulking men.

‘You in for dinner?’

‘Yeah. Then we’re off to a club.’

‘Right then, I’ll let Cissy know. Pop in on old Mrs H, will you? She loves seeing you both.’

As they left the room she smiled to herself and went back to her letters again. The boys were home, the house was alive and everything was well once more.

Mrs Horlock, now in her eighties, was bedridden. She had shrunk ’til all that was left was a frail old body and a wispily covered skull. Her teeth were long gone and she sucked up stews, broths, and bread and milk noisily. Her mind, though, was still as sharp as a knife. As the two boys entered her bedroom she treated them to a gummy smile and patted her bed.

‘Hello, you pair of ’andsome little gits! Come and see your old Auntie H!’