Queenie knew that Pearl and Basil were going on holiday in a couple of months as Pearl had told her she wouldn’t be needed that particular fortnight. Usually, Pearl would brag about the vacations they took, but this time she’d said very little. Queenie reckoned that was around the daughter’s due date and they must be taking her off to recuperate after giving birth to a child she’d be forced to give away.

As a throbbing pain similar to a toothache shot through her leg, Queenie forgot all about the safe code. She was in too much pain to concentrate on anything.

The following morning, Queenie took a slow walk down to the Waste.

‘Queen,’ yelled Jeanie Thomas. Queenie had felt slightly guilty for Jeanie’s son moving so far away; she would be fuming if her sons ever moved too far for her to visit. But Jeanie seemed to have accepted the situation now. Trevor was happy with Yvonne apparently, and Jeanie had been to visit them recently. The money Queenie had bunged Yvonne had thankfully never been mentioned. Queenie guessed Jeanie hadn’t been told about it. She wouldn’t put it past that slippery bitch Yvonne to have left Trevor in the dark and kept the grand for herself.

Leg still throbbing, Queenie hobbled over to Jeanie. ‘You all right, love?’

‘I’m gonna be a grandma,’ Jeanie beamed.

‘Oh, how lovely. I’m glad their relationship worked out, for your sake, Jeanie. If our kids are happy, we’re happy, aren’t we, darlin’.’

‘Well, I gotta accept her now, Queen. I ain’t got no choice if I want to be part of my grandchild’s life.’

‘True.’

‘What you done to your leg, Queen? It looks mauve and ever so sore.’

‘That poxy cat that Vinny bought for Yvonne bit and scratched me. I’ve been putting TCP on it, but it kept me awake last night.’

Jeanie crouched down. ‘That’s infected, Queen. Cats carry germs where they kill mice, rats and birds. You should go to the quack sharpish with that. I know a man who got bitten by a cat, left it like you have, and ended up having his leg cut off.’

Queenie felt the colour drain from her face. She’d rather be dead than have one leg.

Queenie felt nostalgic as she hobbled round to her doctor’s surgery. Kids didn’t know how good they had it these days. Back in her day, if you couldn’t afford a doctor, chances were you’d die. There were no ambulances when she was growing up either.

‘Hello, Queenie. How you doing, sweetheart?’

‘Hello, Violet. I’m OK, thanks, apart from a gammy leg. Been a while since I’ve seen you. You been OK?’

‘I was living in Dagenham for a couple of months, Queen, with me poor Daisy. She was devastated after her Charlie died, still is. Which is why I’ve come to the decision to move to Dagenham and live with her. We’re both widows now and the company’ll do us both good.’

Violet was a lively sixty-six-year-old Queenie had known since she was a small child. She hadn’t seen her twin Daisy for years, but imagined they still looked identical. ‘I’m sure you’re making the right decision, Vi. Life’s too short to be lonely.’