Davey ordered another round of drinks as Jamie McCain said, ‘How about this then? This bloke is at the funeral of an eighty-year-old man, and there’s loads of young girls around the grave crying. Right? So this young bloke like, he says, “What they all crying for?” And the undertaker he says, right, “Well, the old boy was a really good lover, see. All the young girls liked him.” So this bloke says, “Get out of it, you’re mucking me about!” And the other undertaker says, “He ain’t, son, I had to give him a wank to get the coffin lid on!”’

Davey and half the bar busted up with laughter again. Maisie, the large barmaid, served them their drinks tight-lipped and Jamie grabbed her hand.

‘Sorry, Maisie, that one was a bit near the mark.’

‘You just remember there’s ladies in here, Jamie McCain.’

Davey pushed a five-pound note over the bar and said, ‘Fucking ladies? I don’t see no ladies in here, love.’

Maisie snatched the money from the bar and put his change in a puddle of beer deliberately.

Davey looked at the soaking wet money and Maisie smiled at him sarcastically.

Davey poked a finger in her direction and said, ‘You pick that money up and you sort it for me. Now.’

Pete and Jamie sighed loudly.

‘Leave this to us, Maise. Give it a rest, Davey. You’re out of order.’

He turned on Jamie and sneered. ‘Don’t you tell me when I’m out of order, mate. Just because you work for those pair of Cavanaghs, the nancy boys. Don’t you get fucking lairy with me!’

Pete stepped towards Davey and Jamie held him back, both serious now. All their laughing and joking gone.

Jamie poked a finger at Davey and said quietly, ‘You’re pissed so I’ll forget what you just said, Davey boy. Get yourself off home.’

The bar was quiet now, people watching the proceedings with eager eyes.

Davey was very drunk and all caution was gone as he said in a high girlish voice, ‘What’s the matter, boys? You scared that pair of fucking paper hats the Cavanaghs will hear what I said about them? Are we scared they might get their aunties after me? Oh, they can’t get all their aunties, can they? The big fucking nutty one died the other day! Good job and all. I wish they’d died with her. Fucking bits of kids telling me ...ME ... Davey Mitchell, what to do! I worked this town when they were still a twinkle in their father’s fucking eye!’

The whole bar was silent now and Jamie shook his head. ‘You must be out of your mind.’

‘What, you gonna tell them what I said then? Run and tell them, go on. See if I care!’