As the days passed, Mary’s condition began to improve. She still couldn’t walk, but had started to move one hand and try to talk again. She was hard to understand, but Queenie quickly learned what she was saying. Sometimes Queenie would turn up to see her clutching her rosary beads, tears running down her cheeks. ‘No crying now, Mary. You’re going to make a full recovery and I’m going to help you,’ Queenie would tell her, meaning every word.

One morning when Queenie was at the hospital, Albie turned up unexpectedly. ‘Queen, it’s been nearly a week now since we got married and I’ve barely seen you. Mum’s asking questions, so is Aunt Liz who you haven’t even met properly yet. What’s going on, love?’

Queenie’s eyes welled up. ‘I’m so sorry; I’ve been a crap wife. I was just so worried about Mary, I needed space. I’ll come home tonight, I promise. Mary’s sort of on the mend now. Thank God.’

Albie breathed a sigh of relief. He’d heard whispers. People were talking, speculating on why his wife wasn’t coming home and he hadn’t fancied confronting those O’Leary brothers. Albie hated the sight of blood, especially his own. ‘I’ll get Mum to prepare us a nice bit of grub. What time can I expect you?’

Queenie forced a smile. She was still dreading sharing a bed with him, but knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘Seven, Albie. I’ll be home by seven, and thanks for being so understanding.’

Albie kissed her on the forehead. ‘See you later.’

Later that afternoon, Daniel pulled Queenie to one side. ‘I spoke to the doctor earlier and they reckon Mum could come home as early as next week. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Queenie, as I would never disrespect you. You’re like a daughter to Mum. But you were saying the other day how unhappy you are in your job with those girls giving you gyp. So how d’ya fancy helping to care for Mum? Patrick and me will pay you more than you’re currently on. No way will Mum want a stranger looking after her, and I know how close you two are. You can help with her rehabilitation more than anyone else I know.’

Patrick walked over, catching the back end of the conversation.

‘Oh, I’d love to, but how can I take money off you two? Mary’s like family to me. That would be wrong.’

‘Don’t be daft. We’re hardly skint, Queenie. It would be such a weight off mine and Daniel’s shoulders if you could help out, and you need the money. Name your price. Obviously, I know you can only be with Mum during the daytime as you have your own life. You can do the same hours you work at the shop. What do you say?’

Queenie had once loved working at Cohen’s, but not any more. She still got on well with the customers, but not Doreen or Eliza. She’d even offered an olive branch which had been rebuffed. ‘Will I still get a day off in the week and Sundays off?’