‘Albie, talk to me, please,’ begged Micky.

Albie glanced at Cilla. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. People were staring now, trying to work out what was going on. ‘Excuse me, Mick. But I’m ’ere to see Ernie.’

‘Been reefing round that blonde tart for the past couple of weeks. Seem ’em in ’ere a few times, I ’ave,’ Ernie informed Albie. ‘Rumour ’as it, Sheila’s left him,’ he added. ‘Gonna have your usual tipple with me, Albie?’

Desperate to get out the boozer, Albie shook his head. There was no need to count Ernie’s money; the old boy always got it spot on. ‘I can’t today, mate. We got a family firework thingy later and Queenie’s ordered me to get me arse home early. I’ll see you next week. We’ll have a drink then.’

Albie left via the opposite door to where love’s young dream were sitting. Unsurprisingly, within thirty seconds he felt his right arm being grabbed from behind. ‘Please, Albie. I don’t wanna fall out with ya. I would never step on your toes, you know that. But seeing as you and Queenie are all good again and you got your baby daughter, I honestly didn’t think you’d be that bothered, mate.’

Unable to stop himself, Albie drew back his right fist and punched Micky so hard, he smacked his head against the wall and slumped to the pavement.

Cilla ran outside the pub and crouched and cradled her new beau in her arms. Micky had spent a small fortune on her in the past few weeks, was the meal ticket she’d always craved for a better life. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Albie?’

‘That’s for Sheila,’ Albie said, walking away.

Cilla chased after Albie and smacked him hard around the face. ‘Talk about pot calling kettle black! That one’s for Queenie.’

Queenie checked on Brenda. who was fast asleep, then decided on a catnap herself. She couldn’t have dozed off for more than five minutes when a knock on the door awoke her.

‘Hello, Mrs Higgins,’ Queenie yawned. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I thought I’d better tell you, I just come from Bethnal Green and saw your boys having a bit of a barney with some lads much older than them. I asked if they were OK and they said they was, but I didn’t like the look of those other lads, Queen. Proper ruffians. If I were you, I’d send Albie or one of the men down there to check your boys are OK.’

Queenie was that tired she could barely think straight. ‘Bethnal Green! But they’re meant to be at a friend’s house.’

‘Well, they’re not, love. They’re sitting outside the station, with a guy.’

‘What guy?’

‘Not a man, a bleedin’ stuffed guy – Guy Fawkes night, innit? They’re asking passers-by to give ’em a penny for him.’

‘Everything all right?’ Viv asked, as she walked up the path with a bag full of fruit-and-veg leftovers from work.