‘Well, if I ain’t welcome here, I’ll go somewhere else, but I ain’t going back to that bastard to get me face smashed in.’

Marcus went to her and took the terrified child from her arms. Then, cradling Faith to his chest, he said to Bernadette: ‘I don’t believe you, Bernie, sometimes you bleeding well amaze me! Your daughter is standing here bruised from head to foot and your granddaughter with a black eye, and you stick up for that piece of scum! Jesus wept, woman, when you had your last face lift they must have cut into your sodding brain by accident!’

He turned to his tearful daughter. ‘You stay here, my love, and you leave that ponce to me and your cousins. He won’t be hitting anyone for a long time. Now, is he still at the flat?’

Delia sniffed loudly for maximum effect.

‘He ain’t there now, but he will be tonight. Late tonight.’

‘Then me and your cousins will go and sort him out. Now you take little Faithey and get her upstairs. If you need any money for anything, see me later. All right?’

Delia nodded. Taking her daughter, she left the room, giving her mother a last smouldering glance over her shoulder.

Marcus shook his head in disgust. ‘I don’t believe you, Bernadette!’

She shrugged lightly. ‘Obviously not. You believe her though, I take it?’

‘Sodding right I do! That long-haired beatnik has raised his fists once too often. Tonight he gets his comeuppance. No one touches me or mine without they answer to me personally.’

Bernadette allowed herself a little laugh.

‘I’m delighted to hear it, but listen to me, Marcus, and listen good. Our little girl is a fucker, and a lying fucker at that. Take it from me, mate, I know her better than anyone. So think long and hard before you go round and see that lad. He ain’t as black as he’s painted. Christ himself knows there’s been times when I’ve wanted to hammer the cow myself!’

Marcus looked at her, disgusted.

‘Where did the bruises come from then? Answer me that?’

‘I ain’t disputing he cracked her one, Marcus, all I’m saying is, she might just have deserved it. She could make the Archangel Gabriel get the hump when she starts her antics.’

Marcus shook his head at his wife and stormed from the room.

Bernadette sighed loudly.

She loved her daughter, she did. She loved both her children. And as big a bugger as Delia could be, she was her favourite. But Bernadette had always called a spade a spade, it was one of her few saving graces. And Delia could try the patience of a saint.