‘Don’t cry, love.’ Albie put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. ‘I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you ring your friend, the copper, Freddie Angel? I’m sure if you mention the name Marnie McCartney, he’ll be able to get an address and bring Vinny home for us.’

‘No way! We never mention this to anyone, Freddie included. Can you imagine the shame if the neighbours and locals were to find out where Vinny is working? I’ll never be able to hold my head up high round ’ere again. We know Vinny is only working there for the money, but the gossip-mongers won’t see it that way. The boy’s life will be over before you know it, and I’ve always had such high hopes for him – still have. Think again where that dirty hag Marnie’s nephew lives. Think of his name an’ all.’

‘I honestly don’t think Micky told me his name. I know he said he lived locally though, but I can’t remember where. What I’ll do is pop round to Micky’s first thing tomorrow and find out everything he knows.’

‘Don’t say nothing in front of Roy and Michael when they get in. We just act normal, OK?’ Brenda was already in bed.

‘Of course, love.’

‘And you mustn’t slip up when you’re on the piss with your mates, Albie.’

‘I’m hardly gonna bring up the fact our eldest is working in a poofters’ bar, am I, Queen?’

‘No. I suppose not. I’m not gonna tell Viv. The less people that know about this, the better.’

‘I agree. And that’s why you mustn’t go to Soho and make a scene, Queen. Not only might you find yourself in danger, some bastard is bound to find out and spread the word.’

Queenie squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘Yes. You’re right, for once. It’s your mate Micky I’m worried about the most, mind. He could spout his mouth off to anybody. Might have already done so.’

‘Micky only found out a few days ago and he swore to me he hasn’t told a soul. He won’t say nothing, honest. I’ll make sure of it, love.’

‘How?’

The doorbell saved Albie from answering.

‘Get that. I can’t be talking to anyone,’ Queenie said.

Hearing Albie cry out, Queenie felt her legs tremble as she stumbled out into the hallway. Fully expecting to see a policeman at the door, she was surprised to see Mr Sharples standing there. Albie had his hand over his mouth, tears in his eyes. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Queenie couldn’t help but fear the worst. Something must have happened to one of her boys.

‘It’s Micky One Ear. He walked out in front of a bus along the Whitechapel Road. I gotta pop round there, Queenie. It’s not long happened.’

‘Oh no, that’s awful, Albie. Go on, you go. Thanks for letting us know, Mr Sharples.’

Queenie poured herself a brandy and held Mrs O’Leary’s rosary beads. She pressed them close to her chest. ‘Thank you, Mary. Nobody survives being run over by a bus, I doubt. One more favour now, please. Ask that Saint Anthony you swore by to bring my Vinny home safe and sound for me.’