Cooking the sausages, Queenie swung around just as Bill had known the nosy old cow would. Yes, he did let Viv down on odd occasions, when he ended up on benders with his pals. But he always made it up to her afterwards. As for properly proposing, he would do that when he was good and ready. He wasn’t going to be pushed into stuff by her domineering sister. He had far more dosh than bleeding Albie did and he hadn’t even been out of the clink that long. So what right did Queenie have to dictate to him? The soppy cow.

‘Albie’s looking for some extra work, aren’t you, Albie? What exactly would he be doing?’

Albie said nothing. He’d only just returned from the hospital with Roy. His son’s arm wasn’t broken, but was badly sprained and he was now wearing a sling.

‘Collecting money, that’s all. My boss supplies people with some knocked-off gear from the docks, but he don’t like to get involved himself, so employs geezers to collect his wonga. It’s simple, with very little risk.’

‘You can do that, can’t you, Albie?’ Queenie said, plonking a plate of sausages in front of her sons.

Albie was unsure. He didn’t like Bill Harris very much. Unbeknown to Bill or Queenie, he’d spotted Bill all over birds in pubs a couple of times recently, but thankfully Bill hadn’t spotted him. Albie liked a quiet life, so wasn’t about to spout his mouth off. Vivvy, he also owed nothing to, the way she’d spoken to him this past year or so. A match made in heaven. Let them both get on with it, was Albie’s take on the matter. ‘I’m not sure, Queen. Let me speak to Bill man-to-man, see what it actually entails first.’

‘It’s just you collecting some dosh and giving it to me. I’ll then take it to the boss. You don’t even have to meet him. It’s very simple,’ replied Bill.

‘He’ll take the job,’ Queenie snapped. ‘With Christmas coming up, we can do with some extra money for the boys’ presents.’

‘Thanks, Bill. That’s really kind of you,’ Vivian gushed.

Bill smirked. Queenie and Albie both needed to be taught a lesson. It would serve them bloody right for underestimating him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As Christmas approached, with the extra money Albie was bringing home, Queenie decided to spruce their house up a bit.

The landlord wasn’t at all interested when Queenie told him the wallpaper was peeling off, the paintwork was flaky and there was damp in the boys’ room, but when she asked if it was OK if she decorated it herself, the sly old bastard could not have been more keen.

Green was the in colour at the moment, so that’s what Queenie chose. She even had her dressmaker run her up some apple green curtains with some material she’d bought down the Roman Road.

‘What you up to today, love?’ Albie asked his wife.

‘Taking Brenda to be weighed, then I’ll do a bit more present shopping. I’m gonna get us some nicer decorations an’ all. I want this to be the perfect Christmas,’ Queenie smiled.