‘Needs! What about my bleedin’ needs? D’ya wanna know where I’ve been today?’ she spat. ‘I’ll tell you anyway, shall I? Remember my mate Aggie Brown, d’ya? She married Terry Marney,’ Queenie added sarcastically. She’d been bridesmaid at Aggie and Terry’s wedding and Albie had sung at their reception. ‘Well, I went to visit Aggie today in that house Terry bought for them in that lovely quiet cul-de-sac. Terry is what you call a real man, Albie. He’s done that house up like a bastard palace. They even have a toilet indoors.’ Queenie shook her head in despair. ‘And you wonder why I ain’t all over you like a rash! Try getting yourself a proper job like Terry and providing for your family. Until then, I would rather sleep with my sons.’

Albie took a tenner out of his wallet, screwed it up and slung it at Queenie. ‘There’s the money for your outfit, but I wouldn’t even both to come to Bert’s wedding if I were you. It’s obvious you regret marrying me. I am what I am, Queenie. I’ll always earn a pound note, but if your expectations are higher, I suggest you move on. Find yourself your very own Terry Marney. I’m off out again now. You might not want me in your bed, but there are plenty of women that do.’

Queenie was horrified as her husband walked away from her. Surely he hadn’t meant what he’d just said? Albie might not be perfect, but she didn’t want to lose him. A divorce was unthinkable. When she’d said her vows, she’d meant them, for better or for worse. Not only that, she wanted more sons. Two wasn’t enough. ‘Albie, don’t go. I know I get on your nerves at times. But I only moan at you ’cause I want a better life for our sons than we had.’

‘Don’t you think I want a better life for our boys too? We don’t starve, Queenie. Our sons are well fed and clothed. You knew I didn’t have a proper job when you married me. Yet you still walked down the bloody aisle. Now all you do is put me down all the time. You make me feel useless, and I’m not. Even my opinion counts for nothing. I’ve told you time and time again that we’re not moving in with your mum and sister. Yet you’re still adamant we are. You don’t show me any love or affection. Sick of it I am.’

As Albie went to put his coat on, Queenie flung her arms around his waist. ‘I’m sorry. I do love you. I’m just no good at expressing my emotions. My dad is to blame. I know he is. I still have nightmares, flashbacks of how he treated my mum.’

Albie was somewhat taken aback. He couldn’t remember the last time Queenie had apologized to him, or told him she loved him. He immediately softened. When he’d said his wedding vows he’d meant them too. ‘Your dad’s dead now, sweetheart, and your mum’s OK. You need to forget about the past and concentrate on your future. Our future. I would never harm a hair on your head, you know that.’