‘Why didn’t Daniel come today?’ I blurted out. Patrick had come with Mary.

With a sigh, Mary took my hands in hers and squeezed them so tightly it began to hurt a little. ‘Probably the same reason why you cried off at his wedding, sweetheart. I’m not stupid. You need to forget all about Daniel now, Queenie Butler. You’re married to Albie and he’s a good man. He’ll not break your heart.’

I forced a smile. ‘Thank you, Mary. For everything.’

‘Your dad looked sober when he gave you away. That’s one good thing, eh?’

I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t wanted Dad to give me away, but Mum had insisted. ‘He promised me he wouldn’t get drunk today, but I put money on it he shows me up when we get back to the pub.’

Mary’s face suddenly drained of colour. She clutched the top of her head.

‘Mary, what’s wrong?’ I cried, frightened to see her so clearly in pain.

‘Me head. I can’t see straight.’

As Mary fell to the ground, I started to scream. ‘Help. Mary’s collapsed. Somebody do something. Quick …’

Instead of enjoying her reception in the Hoop and Grapes, Queenie was sitting in a corridor of the London Hospital still in her full wedding regalia, hoping and praying for some positive news.

Queenie was devastated. Mary wasn’t just her friend, she was her mentor, understood her more than anybody else in the whole wide world. Life without her was unthinkable.

‘Darling, you must come to your own wedding reception. I know you’re worried about Mary, but you can’t leave Albie there with all the guests on his own,’ urged her mother. ‘Patrick’s here and Daniel will be here soon. You can pop back later or in the morning. This is your big day.’

Queenie looked at her mother in disgust. ‘If you think I’m going to a pub to celebrate while my beautiful friend is lying in ’ere, possibly at death’s door, you got another think coming.’ Queenie stood up as Patrick returned. His face looked grave. ‘Any more news?’

‘Yeah. They reckon it’s an aneurysm. I can’t believe it. I know she’d been a bit tired lately, but she was fine yesterday. Buzzing with excitement about your wedding. They’ve gotta operate to relieve the pressure on her brain.’

Tears streamed down Queenie’s face as she hugged poor Patrick. She felt that same horrid gut-wrenching feeling she’d had when Aunt Edna died and she could only stand by, helpless.

Mum went off to the reception to inform the guests that Mary’s condition was deemed critical, therefore Queenie wouldn’t be able to attend.

Albie was understanding. He even popped up the hospital with some sandwiches, but neither Patrick nor Queenie were hungry. ‘You go back to the reception and entertain the guests, Albie. I have to stay ’ere. I’m sorry.’

‘I understand, darling. I know how close you are to Mary. I do wish her well. Will you be coming back to Mum’s later? D’ya want me to pop back for you?’