Mrs Cohen continued, ‘Most of your father’s old crew are back in the old trade, robbing the townhouses on the river. Artie’s going to stay out of that this time, ain’t he? He’s learned his lesson. But proper jobs aren’t ten a penny like they was when you boys was just starting out. You got to fight for ’em now. And when you got a history like your brother’s—’

‘You got to find your own way in this world, Ma. Just like our Ray done.’

Raymond shifted uneasily in his chair, uncertain if Artie was castigating him or not. There was bitterness in the way Artie spoke. But then, he always blamed me, didn’t he? He thought I ought to have been there, on the night they caught him out robbing. That if I hadn’t been out dancing . . .

‘It’s all right for Ray, see. He’s got a talent. But when you ain’t got a talent, and you been out of work years already, all on account of serving at His Majesty’s pleasure, well, you ain’t got a hope. It’s like it was before I went in. Well, you remember what it was like, don’t you, Ray? Back in ’32, and all of us Great Unwashed without two pennies to rub together.’ Artie paused, shovelling another potato into his mouth. ‘Nah, I’m forgettin’ myself. You don’t remember what it was like back then at all, ’cause you was off dancing up a storm in – where was it that year? Margate? Skegness? Anywhere that’d have you, you rotten sod. And here was the rest of us, on the breadline while you paraded around with that dandy of yours.’

‘Now that isn’t fair, Artie,’ Mrs Cohen interrupted. ‘Ray sent us half his winnings, every time he ranked in one of his competitions.’

‘Yeah, and the other half he spent on fancy shoes and a nice new evening suit. And all to impress his fancy boy.’

‘His name is Georges, Artie. And he’s a friend. I owe him a great deal.’