‘Everything all right up there? Do you need anything?’ Albie called up the stairs.

‘Yes. For you to shut up. Go down the bastard pub,’ I shouted, while digging my nails into Vivian’s hand.

‘He’s only trying to help, love. Don’t be too hard on him,’ my mum said.

‘I can see the head,’ Maria exclaimed.

Time stood still as I continued to push when ordered to. There were times I felt like giving up, my body had no strength left in it to bloody push.

Finally, the midwife said, ‘The head’s out, Queenie. Now one more push, brave lady. I know you’re tired, but you need to push with all your might.’

I shut my eyes and temporarily forgot the excruciating pain as I gave one almighty push.

‘You did it, Queenie! Well done, darlin’,’ my mum gushed.

‘Is he OK?’ I was on the verge of panic, until I heard a cry, a shrill cry.

‘Well, well, you were right all along, Queenie,’ the midwife smiled. ‘You have a son – and what a big boy he is! No wonder you had trouble pushing him out. He’s got a full head of hair an’ all.’

As my son was placed in my arms, my heart just melted. Lots of babies I’d seen were ugly, but not mine. He had a mop of wavy almost black hair, with some curls stuck to his forehead. He was the most stunning baby I’d ever seen in my life and as his fist clenched around my little finger, I knew I was born to be a mother.

‘Oh, Queenie. Ain’t he ’andsome,’ my mum sobbed.

‘He’s so big, Queenie. I can’t believe I’m an aunt. What you gonna call him?’ asked Vivian.

I kissed my boy on his forehead. For all Albie’s faults, Mrs O’Leary had been right about one thing. He created beautiful babies. ‘I’m not sure. I want to get to know him first, so I can choose a name that truly suits him. Let’s just call him Baby Blue until I decide.’ I’d been that convinced I was having a boy, every item of clothing I’d bought was blue.

Later that evening, Albie cried when he held his son in his arms for the first time. ‘He’s a belter, Queenie. Bleedin’ size of him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a big newborn with so much hair. He definitely takes after his old dad with that colour barnet.’

Baby Blue had weighed in at nine pounds two ounces. I was pleased he was a big baby, hoped it was a sign he’d grow up to be big and strong. Maria said he was the heaviest she’d delivered all year and seeing we were now in autumn, I doubted that would be beaten.

Albie rocked our baby in his arms, gazing at him in wonder. ‘I dunno how my dad walked out on me and Bert without a backward glance. I could never do that to this little fella. What we gonna call him, Queen? I quite like Michael or Daniel.’