Briony looked startled. Her eyes glanced into his and he saw first the hurt, then the confusion.

‘I think that whatever’s on your mind, girl, should be shared. Just talking about a problem can automatically make it seem less gigantic.’ He smiled as he said that.

Briony half smiled. Tommy was shrewd enough to know that whatever was wrong with her was big. Was enormous. Otherwise she would have sorted it herself.

But should she tell him?

Should she open up to him and tell him all the demons that were plaguing her day and night? About the guilt and the fear, yes, fear, because she was frightened of her son, frightened of what he thought of her. What he felt about her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

‘I’ll tell you soon, my love, I promise you.’

‘Is it very bad?’

Briony heard the hurt in his voice and was sorry. ‘It’s bad enough. It’s a family problem.’ Well, that was true anyway.

‘It’s not about me then?’

Briony did smile now. ‘No, Tommy Lane. It’s not about you. It’s about something that happened a long time ago and has come back to haunt me.’

Then Tommy knew.

There was only one thing in her past that could rise up and have this effect.

Her son.

Nodding his understanding, he carried on eating the excellent steak and kidney pudding cooked by Cissy.

He made a mental note to find out about Benedict Dumas. If that little bugger was causing hag, then he wanted to know about it. It wasn’t until dessert that he realised the epithet ‘little bugger’ was completely wrong. Briony’s son was only thirteen years younger than she was.

This thought stayed with him all night. Suddenly he saw again a beautiful young girl, dressed in blue velvet. And, being a gentleman, he told himself she hadn’t changed a bit.

Daniel combed his hair in the hallway mirror of Boysie’s house. He could hear Suzy’s voice coming from the lounge and closed his eyes. She was one mouthy cow, that Suzy. If she was his old woman he’d give her an almighty slap, shut the bitch up.

‘So I’ve got to stay in all night on me own then, is that it, Boysie Cavanagh? Is that this evening’s plan then? You fuck off out and I stay here bored out of me brains?’

Boysie stared at his little wife and sighed.

‘I’ve got a bit of business, Suzy, I’ll try not to be late...’

She interrupted him.

‘Oh, don’t you worry about me, Boysie, or should I say us? Me and the baby. Your baby by the way. We’ll sit in here and watch telly. Like we always bleeding well do. You go out and enjoy yourself!’

Boysie picked up his jacket from the back of the settee and quickly left the room.