‘I won’t mess up. Thanks, Freddie. I’ll never forget this act of kindness.’

As Freddie put his hand on the latch, he swung around. ‘And not a word to anyone. Not even family.’

‘Of course not,’ Molly replied.

‘I would never say anything,’ Viv added.

Queenie glanced at her dead father. She felt no remorse or sadness whatsoever. Not for the first time, the O’Learys had come up trumps on her behalf. If they hadn’t beaten her father up today, the bastard would still be alive.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I was indoors washing Ida’s arse when my waters broke. She had a habit of crapping herself just lately and if I didn’t clean her up, the whole house would reek of shit.

‘Baby’s on its way,’ Ida exclaimed gleefully.

I flew into a panic. Ida could no longer hop on one leg. She was too fat now. So I stumbled outside and banged on Bridget’s front door. Luckily she was in. ‘Me waters have broke,’ I gabbled. ‘Go call the midwife.’

As I went back indoors, I felt the first bad contraction. The pain was awful, indescribable. I sank to my haunches, trying to breathe.

My birthing kit had been delivered the previous month, so I grabbed that and crawled up the stairs on all fours. I’d left the front door open so the midwife could let herself in.

As I lay on the bed, I had another contraction, one so vicious it took my breath away. I wanted to push, my whole body was telling me to push, but I didn’t want my son to arrive before the midwife got there.

‘Queenie! Where are you? I bumped into Bridget,’ a voice shouted. It was Albie.

‘I’m upstairs, but don’t you come up. If you wanna make yourself useful, go get my mum for me,’ I bellowed. Albie still didn’t have a proper job, but he was bringing home a bit more dosh thanks to his ducking and diving. Not enough to get us our own place though, and I’d grown sick of living with his brother and mother. I was desperate for a home I could call my own.

It seemed ages before the midwife arrived, but was probably only fifteen minutes or so. She was a lovely Irish lass who lived with the nuns at the convent; Maria was her name. ‘Now let’s have a look at you, Queenie. I doubt baby is ready to come out just yet,’ Maria smiled.

‘I think he is,’ I told her. I could see she was baffled by my insistence I was having a boy, but I didn’t care. I knew in my heart what was growing inside me.

My mum and Viv turned up at the same time. Our bond had grown stronger since the death of my dad, but we never spoke about what happened that evening. Dad had broken his neck as he’d fallen down the stairs and the authorities had swallowed that it was an accident.

As the contractions became more regular, Mum wiped my sweaty brow with a cold flannel, while Vivvy clenched my hand for support. I had never felt pain like it.