‘Hello,’ Yvonne giggled. ‘Meet my beautiful little kitten Vinny bought me,’ she giggled again, opening the lid of a box.

Queenie glanced at the tiny white blue-eyed kitten, glared at Vinny as he giggled like a dickhead, then sized up Yvonne. Tall, leggy, scantily dressed, looked far older than sixteen and was clinging to Vinny’s arm like a limpet. Queenie forced a smile. ‘Hello, dear. Welcome to our home.’ She didn’t mean it, not one little bit. She hated the tart on sight.

The dinner was Queenie’s worst nightmare. Albie arrived home partly sozzled, bragging how he’d sung his first ever Frank Sinatra song and got a standing ovation. Then he’d proceeded to sing it – much to her mum and Viv’s delight; they both clapped him until their hands must have hurt.

Michael didn’t arrive home until dessert, with barely any apology and a big grin on his face. Brenda was ratty, complaining she had an earache and Lenny wasn’t his usual bubbly self either. He kept demanding to go home as he missed his dad and kept whinging there were no jam tarts.

Roy was the worst behaved out of everybody. He kept coming out with lewd comments about Michael and the girl who smelled like death. Queenie knew that smell. Everybody who purchased those chickens off Petticoat Lane did, and she could smell it on her baby boy. Michael was only bloody twelve. Surely he didn’t know about the birds and bees already? She would have to ask him later, or get Albie to do the honours.

The worst part of the day for Queenie, though, was the interaction between Vinny and his silly, giggly girlfriend. Vinny was clearly besotted with her, but in Queenie’s opinion Yvonne was brainless.

When Roy came out with another lewd comment while they were eating the rhubarb crumble Queenie had carefully prepared, Queenie could not help but clout her middle son around the head and tell him to, ‘Get your arse up them stairs before I brain ya.’

Appalled, Molly stood up. ‘Thanks for the lovely dinner, Queenie. I must be going now though. I will call you and Viv in the week.’ Molly kissed Vinny’s cheek and Yvonne’s. ‘I wish you two all the happiness in the world. You make a lovely couple.’

Queenie saw her mother out. ‘Thanks for coming, Mum.’

‘Don’t be inviting me again anytime soon, Queenie. It’s too hectic round yours for me. As for Roy, he needs his mouth washing out with soap. I can’t listen to filth like that. It’s vulgar.’

Wanting to remind her mother of the horrendous childhood herself and Viv had endured, Queenie chose not to bother. Her mum lived in her own little cocoon these days; she seemed to have lost her marbles since she started hanging out with her bible-punching pals. ‘OK then. Bye, Mum.’

Molly turned and stroked Queenie’s cheek. ‘I will always love you and Vivvy, no matter what. I pray to God every night for you and your children.’