For the first time it occurred to me that Albie might be right. In raising Vinny the way I did, I’d created a monster.

Queenie spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in deep shock. The awful things Vinny had said were not only upsetting, they were totally untrue. From the moment Vinny was born, she’d only wanted the best for him. Same as her other three. It had never crossed her mind to raise her children for her own personal gain.

As for Vinny spouting off about Freddie Angel, the troubling thing was, she would have to avoid Freddie like the plague in future. She had no doubt that Vinny was capable of carrying out his threat and she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to the poor man or his kiddies. Freddie had risked his own livelihood to save her, and she’d never forget that.

Queenie poured herself a sherry. Manipulative and hard, that’s what Vinny had called her. Well, if she was hard it was because life had made her that way. She had nothing to be ashamed of on that score.

‘Cooey.’

The tap on the window made Queenie jump. It was her neighbour, Nosy Hilda from the house opposite, the last person she fancied talking to today. She yanked open the front door, glass in hand.

‘Ooh, drinking in the daytime. Something wrong?’ pried Hilda.

‘No. Whaddya want? Only, I’m busy.’

‘No need to be snappy with me. I just thought you’d want to know the police have found Peter Davidson’s body. Murdered, by all accounts. He was fished out the Thames a couple of hours ago. Poor Jack and Ethel. I’ll start a collection tomorrow for some flowers.’

‘OK. Sorry to hear the bad news. Send Ethel and Jack my regards if you see them. Bye, Hilda.’

Queenie shut the door and leaned against it. The gossip-mongers were bound to be out in force, speculating how Peter had ended up in the Thames. She could do without listening to their tittle-tattle.

An idea forming in her mind, Queenie searched for the number of Patrick O’Leary’s club. A trip to Ireland to visit Mary’s grave might be just the tonic she needed.

That evening, Queenie felt a bit better as she packed a small case. In her whole life she’d never been further afield than Kent, for hop-picking, or Southend. She couldn’t wait to see the country Mary was raised in and pay her friend a long overdue visit at her graveside.

‘I can’t believe you’re going all that way,’ Viv said. ‘I’d be too scared, me. You going because you rowed with Vinny?’

Queenie had admitted she and Vinny had argued, but only over her going to lunch with Freddie. She couldn’t bring herself to repeat the horrendous things her eldest had said to her, not even to Viv. ‘Partly. But I was also thinking about all the gossip that’s bound to be doing the rounds now Peter’s been found. I can’t be arsed listening to all that. On top of that, Mum’s letter’s been playing on my mind. I think a break might do me good.’