‘Because Viv and Bill will probably turn up after dinner and Nanny don’t like Bill.’ Vivvy was having Christmas dinner around Bill’s parents’ and her mum had decided to spend it with her church friends.

‘Why don’t Nan like Bill?’ asked Vinny.

‘Because he’s a bleedin’ arsehole,’ Queenie replied, staring at Mrs O’Leary’s old house. Patrick and Daniel had sold it soon after Mary’s death and that was the last time she’d seen the lads. She’d heard they were doing well, through the grapevine, so was pleased about that.

‘Will Nan be all on her own?’ Michael asked.

‘No. She’s spending it with the bible-punchers.’

‘But you said Nan wasn’t religious,’ Roy reminded his mother.

‘She’s not religious. Now stop giving me the third degree. You’re driving me bloody mad.’ Queenie could not help but worry. She’d already paid for Vinny and Roy’s bikes, but was still eight quid short for Michael’s. No way could she give two boys a bike and not the other. It wasn’t fair.

Queenie tapped on her mum’s front door.

‘Oh, you bought the boys with you. I thought you were just bringing Brenda,’ said Molly.

‘I thought you wanted to give the boys their presents.’

‘Yeah, I do. Tell ’em to behave though,’ Molly whispered. ‘The vicar’s popped in for tea and cake.’

‘Hello, Vicar,’ grinned Vinny, nudging Roy. They loved winding their nan up when the vicar was there.

‘Why don’t you play outside for a while, boys?’ Molly suggested.

‘Nah. We wanna talk to the vicar, Nan,’ replied Roy.

‘You boys should come to my Sunday school. You’d love it. There’s lots of other girls and boys your ages,’ smiled Reverend Christopher Clark.

‘What d’ya do there then?’ Vinny asked.

Molly glared at her grandsons as they asked Christopher more and more stupid questions. ‘Let the vicar finish his tea in peace, lads. Outside you go,’ she snapped.

‘My mum reckons my nan ain’t religious,’ Vinny informed the man of the cloth. ‘Mum calls Nan’s friends bible-punchers. Are you a bible-puncher too, Vicar?’

Feeling her face flush beetroot red, Molly physically pushed her naughty grandsons out into the back yard.

‘Nanny just said the f and b words, vicar,’ Vinny shouted out. ‘She called us “Little fucking bastards”,’ he lied.

How Queenie stopped herself from laughing out loud, she did not know. Her poor mother’s expression was priceless. So was the vicar’s.

As soon as Queenie arrived home, she knew by Albie’s expression that something was seriously wrong. ‘Well? Did Bill turn up?’

‘Yeah. But it ain’t good news, love. The boss was apparently furious. I’ve been sacked.’

‘Sacked! How can he blame you for what happened?’

Albie shrugged his shoulders dismally. ‘I gotta pay back the money I lost an’ all.’

‘You gotta be kidding me! No way are you paying a penny back, Albie. Did Bill bring you your wages round?’

‘No. I’m not getting paid ’cause of what happened.’

‘For crying out loud, Albie! Well that’s just bloody brilliant. Some Christmas this is gonna be. We haven’t got a pot to piss in.’