Vinny smiled. He was thrilled his mother was happy in her new home. So much so, he’d decided it was worth the shitty experience he’d gone through with Macca and Aunt Marnie, to get his mum the property. ‘What about you, Auntie Viv?’ Hearing loud laughter coming from behind him, Vinny turned around. Teddy boys didn’t seem to be the in thing any more, bikers were, and there were two sitting behind him. He treated them to his special stare when he wouldn’t blink, then turned back to his mum. ‘They laughing at us?’ he asked.

‘No. I don’t think so,’ Queenie lied. She could sense the bikers were laughing at them, but there were two of them and only one of her son. They also looked older, in their early twenties.

Feeling a bit merry, having let her hair down for the first time in ages, Vivian took her new dress out the bag, stood up and held it up against her. ‘Well, Vinny, what do you reckon?’ she asked, swaying her hips. ‘Will this pull me a better man than the tosser I’ve just sent packing?’ Viv joked.

‘I doubt that very much, darling,’ Vinny heard a voice say behind him.

‘Vinny, leave it,’ Queenie urged, as her son leapt up to confront the bikers.

Vinny stood in front of the pair who were now laughing their heads off. ‘That’s my mum and aunt you’re laughing at. Apologize. Now!’ he demanded.

‘Yeah, right cocker. I love your suit by the way,’ the ginger one replied, much to the amusement of his pal. ‘Very posh.’

‘We reckon you’d look better in that dress, than her,’ the dark-haired one chuckled, nodding towards Viv.

‘Vinny, no,’ Queenie screamed, as her son picked up both the biker’s drinks.

‘You’re hard, ain’t ya?’ laughed the dark-haired imbecile. His drunken mate then giggled like a five-year-old child.

Seconds later, neither of them was laughing as Vinny shoved the pint glasses in their ugly faces.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Viv mumbled, as blood spurted everywhere, including all over her new frock.

‘Vinny, come on. Let’s go,’ Queenie panicked.

‘We’re going, Mum. And believe me,’ Vinny pointed at each and every customer in the pub. ‘If any of these grass me up, they’ll have more than a slashed face to deal with. I can’t stand rats.’

‘They won’t, Vinny,’ shouted a very impressed Bob Morten. ‘I’ll make damn sure of that, lad.’

Vinny took a last look at the bikers. One was rolling on the carpet, screaming that he couldn’t see properly. As for the ginger one, he was crying like a baby.

Vinny smirked as he sauntered out the door. That’d teach the pair of them to insult him and his family. They got what they asked for. End of.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

‘Hello, Queenie. I don’t arf miss you and our wonderful chats. How you doing, sweetheart?’

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, right in front of me, was Mrs O’Leary, showing no signs of the disabilities she had in her later life. She looked beautiful and vibrant, wearing the silk scarf I bought her from Cohen’s. ‘Mary, is that really you?’ I whispered. ‘It is you, isn’t it? Oh Mary, I miss you so much. But you’re looking so well.’