‘Mum won’t let you leave school until you’re fifteen,’ Roy warned.

Vinny grinned. He already had a plan should Macca’s job offer come off. ‘Best I get meself expelled then, eh bruv?’

‘Surprise!’ Queenie shrieked.

Vinny glanced at his mum, the cake and then around the front room. Apart from his dad’s relations being there, there was no surprise. His mum had always baked a cake and invited people around for his birthday for as far back as he could remember. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he grinned.

‘Give Nanny a kiss then, and Auntie Liz and Aunt Ivy,’ Queenie urged her sons. She then clocked what Vinny was wearing. ‘Whatever you got on your legs?’

‘Jeans. I treated meself. They go with my new jacket.’

‘Workman’s clothes,’ Queenie hissed. ‘In my day the O’Leary brothers, well they looked like real gentlemen. You don’t see the Kelly brothers or the Krays wearing jeans, do you?’

‘No, but—’

‘No buts, Vinny,’ Queenie interrupted. ‘You’re not wearing those bloody things when you come out with me. Even your father wouldn’t be seen dead in them.’

‘Told ya,’ Roy grinned.

Vinny punched his brother on the arm. ‘Shut it, you.’ Little did his brother know, he’d only bought the jeans to try and impress Macca and land himself a job.

Lenny prodded Vinny in the leg. His speech was slower than other kids his age, but perfectly understandable. ‘Music, Vinny, music.’

Vinny picked up his beloved cousin. ‘Come on then, Champ. Let’s put the records on.’ Every couple of weeks Vinny would pop into a record shop and treat Lenny to a new tune. The boy was music mad.

When Lenny started dancing to Elvis’s ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, Vinny caught his mum’s eye and smiled. He’d never forgotten those bedtime stories she’d drummed into him as a child. She was a fantastic mum, had held their family together virtually single-handed. Now it was time for him to show his worth, get his mum a TV and a radiogram. Even his Aunt Viv had a TV.

Queenie walked over to her birthday boy and slipped her arm around his waist. Vinny towered above her now and she was glad he’d inherited Albie’s height and not hers. ‘Sorry what I said about your jeans. I’m an old fuddy-duddy, so take no notice of me. I know they’re in fashion.’

Vinny kissed his mother on the forehead. ‘I’m wearing ’em for a reason, trust me. Look at this place. It needs decorating and we need new furniture. I’m not a kid any more, Mum. You’ve done so much for me over the years, now it’s my turn to do stuff for you.’

Queenie stroked his cheek. ‘You’re a good son, Vinny. I couldn’t have wished for better.’

‘Mum, meet Kevin. Kev, this is my mum and that’s Auntie Viv,’ Michael said proudly.

Queenie held out her right hand. Kevin was a caramel colour with afro hair. ‘Hello. It’s lovely to finally meet you, Kevin,’ Queenie said slowly.

‘Hello, Kevin. Do you live locally?’ Viv asked, in an even slower tone.