‘No, ya won’t. We’ll have a couple of drinks and a joint before we go there. That’ll take the edge off. You’ll be fine. I got every faith in you.’

Queenie was twiddling her thumbs waiting for her firstborn to arrive home. Her other three were upstairs in bed. She’d grilled Roy earlier and he’d sworn he knew nothing of what Vinny was really up to. Queenie could usually tell if Roy was lying, so was fairly sure he was telling the truth.

She stared at the rosary beads Mrs O’Leary had given her. Her dear friend had been a big believer in life after death: ‘Whenever you look at those beads, you’ll think of me, Queenie. Please don’t be sad, because I’ll be creating fecking mayhem upstairs, and when I’m not I’ll be looking down on you. You talk to me through those beads and I’ll guide you.’

Queenie sighed. ‘I could do with your help right now, Mary. I miss you so bloody much. You always knew what to do in a crisis, didn’t ya?’

She jumped as she heard the front door open. She’d already planned what she was going to say. ‘All right, boy?’ she asked chirpily.

Vinny sat on the arm of the shabby sofa. He’d already bought his mum a carpet and a TV. If he could get through tomorrow night, he would hopefully earn enough money to buy her a new sofa. But he was dreading it. The thought of even going to that party scared him shitless. ‘I’m gonna go to bed, I think. Knackered, I am.’

Queenie studied her son when he handed her a tenner of his wages, as he did every Friday night. He looked worried. ‘How was work?’

‘Yeah, OK. Bit boring today, if I’m honest.’

‘What’s the name of your hotel again? One of the neighbours asked me and I couldn’t bleedin’ remember it.’

‘Valentino’s.’ There was a restaurant near where he worked with that name, which was why Vinny had chosen it. It was easy to remember.

‘And whereabouts is it in Soho?’

‘Erm, just off Wardour Street. Why?’

Queenie’s tone changed from nice to nasty. ‘Because me and your Auntie Viv walked all around Soho today looking for it and we were laughed at like two silly old bats and told by numerous arseholes that it didn’t bastard-well exist.’

‘Yeah. It does,’ Vinny stammered.

Queenie leapt off the sofa, grabbed hold of Vinny’s right ear and twisted it like she used to when he was naughty as a child. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me, boy. You know I can’t stand liars. Now I want to know where you’re really working – and don’t be making up another load of old crap ’cause I will be visiting Soho or wherever you are to be checking your story out next week.’

Vinny rubbed his ear as his mother let go of it. ‘I’m working in a club, but it ain’t dangerous or nothing, Mum, and we need the money.’