Desperately trying to remember everything Micky had told him last night, Albie put his key in the door.

‘That you, Michael?’ Queenie yelled.

Albie nervously smiled as he walked into the lounge.

‘Oh,’ it’s you. Bleedin’ state of you. Bert not got a sink or razor? I didn’t think Ivy would put up with you for long. Been slung out already, have ya?’

‘Bert and Ivy are away, Queen. I haven’t seen them.’

‘Where you been then?’

‘Grafting. I had a busy day. Ere you go,’ Albie said, handing his wife three pound notes plus a handful of loose change. He’d had a tip on a horse earlier that had romped home at 10-1, so he’d kept those winnings for himself.

‘Where did ya sleep? Rough? State of those bleedin’ trousers, Albie. I hope none of the neighbours clocked you coming home. Thank Christ it’s dark.’

‘I bumped into Micky One Ear. Well, actually he came looking for me. That’s where I stayed, at his bedsit. We need to talk. It’s about Vinny. Micky told me some pretty disturbing stuff, Queenie.’

‘I already know what Vinny’s been up to. Got it out of him meself last night. I thought you hated Micky?’

‘I did. But it was good of him to come and see me. Where’s Vinny now?’

‘At work.’

‘What! You let him go back there? Are you mad?’

‘We need the money and Vinny’s assured me he’s in no danger, Albie. I was fuming when I first found out. Viv and me went to Soho to check out his story, as I was becoming more and more suspicious. As soon as I found out the hotel didn’t exist, I guessed he was working in one of them seedy bloody strip clubs where all those dirty, disgusting nonces hang out. But he’s working on the door, chucking out the—’

Albie waved his hand. ‘I’ll stop you there, Queenie. Your beloved boy is a good bloody liar, I’ll give him that much.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

Knowing how much this was going to upset Queenie, Albie sat next to her and held her hand. ‘Now, try not to go too ballistic, as me and you both know Vinny ain’t no iron.’

‘What! You been on the sauce again?’

‘No. I bloody ain’t. Vinny is working in a poofters’ bar, love. Obviously, it’s just for the dosh. From what I’ve been told, he don’t touch ’em or nothing like that. But that’s where he’s working. Oh, and he don’t use his real name there. He calls himself Terry.’

Queenie dug her fingernails into Albie’s arm, then froze. ‘Nah. No way. Not my Vinny. There must be some mistake.’

‘There’s no mistake.’ Albie stood up. ‘Stay there. I’ll pour us both a brandy, I think we need one. Then we’ll work out what we’re gonna do next.’

Queenie couldn’t speak. Her firstborn. Her Baby Blue. For once in her life, she was completely lost for words.

Marnie McCartney’s mansion was on the outskirts of West London and as soon as Vinny walked inside, he felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Never had he seen such an opulent property, not even in the films he’d seen at the cinema. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling and there was a stuffed moose’s head hung in the hallway.