‘He looks much older than fifteen though, Queen. He’s so tall an’ all.’

‘Over six foot now and, yes, he looks older because he dresses smart in his suits. But he’s still only fifteen and I don’t want some bloody girl trapping him.’

Vivian squeezed her sister’s arm. ‘She might be a very nice girl, Queen. At least meeting her will put your mind at rest.’

‘I suppose so,’ Queenie replied unenthusiastically. She had never told Viv about Marnie, Macca, or the club Vinny had been working at. She’d told her sister he was working in a strip club on the door.

‘Does Yvonne work?’ Viv asked.

‘Yeah. In a hairdresser’s. She better not practise on Vinny and balls up his lovely hair. I’ll cut her bleedin’ hands off if she does.’

‘Whose hands you gonna cut off, Auntie Queenie?’ asked Lenny, in a voice so loud, the people sitting nearby all turned around.

‘Nobody, earholes,’ Viv snapped. ‘Shall we make a move, Queen? Brenda’s half asleep.’

‘Yeah. Got a headache, I have. Dunno whether the sun’s given it to me, or it’s the thought of Princess bleedin’ Yvonne spending all my son’s hard-earned dosh.’

The following morning, Queenie unpacked her best china that she rarely used and kept wrapped in newspaper in a box for safekeeping. Whatever Yvonne was like, she wanted to make a good impression.

‘You’ve got to give the girl a chance, Queen. She might be just what Vinny needs to keep him on the straight and narrow, and he does seem smitten with her,’ Albie said.

‘I was smitten with you once and look where that bleedin’ well got me. If it wasn’t for Vinny we’d have no TV or telephone and still be living in the dark ages. Unlike you, my Vinny is a good catch, Albie, and I ain’t having any little madam getting her claws into him. He’s fifteen, not twenty-five.’

Knowing there was no point arguing, or pointing out he wasn’t her Vinny, but their Vinny, Albie nodded, said goodbye and set off for his singing gig in the Prince Regent. Sunday was his favourite day of the week. Not only had Albie missed singing in pubs, it brought back memories of the good old days, before he’d got lumbered with Queenie.

Viv arrived at lunchtime with a face like thunder. Bill was up to his old tricks, hadn’t come home all night.

‘You already know my opinion, Viv. I’ve told you this many a time over the last few months. I’d have kicked Bill’s arse into touch when he first started staying out all night. My Albie might not be much use to me, but never has he stayed out all night. Not unless I’ve kicked him out. I wouldn’t put up with it. If a man randomly don’t come home, they’re with some old tart. I’d put money on it.’

Pretending to watch TV, but earwigging at the same time, Lenny ran out to the kitchen. ‘My dad ain’t with an old tart. He loves me and Mummy.’