‘Did Charlie work?’ Queenie enquired.

‘Yeah. Always had money, did Charlie. Nobody was sure what he actually did, mind.’ Liz tapped the side of her nose. ‘Rumour had it he was a bit of a villain.’

‘Really!’

‘Yeah. I heard through the grapevine he worked for the Italians. They ran all the race tracks, were into horses – amongst other stuff.’

Albie craned his neck to check on his sons and couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘No. Surely not,’ he muttered, as he darted past his wife.

Vinny had always been jealous of Roy from the day his brother was born, but to see him holding a cushion over his little brother’s face made Albie’s blood run cold. ‘What the hell d’ya think you’re doing?’ Albie grabbed Vinny by the arm and smacked him hard on his backside. He then picked up Roy and comforted him. The poor little sod was fighting for breath.

Remembering his mum had always told him if anyone kicked or hit him, he had to kick or hit them harder, Vinny booted his father in the leg before running over to his mum.

Queenie scooped Vinny up in her arms and walked over to Albie. ‘Whatever’s going on?’

‘Whatever’s going on! I’ll tell you what’s going on, shall I?’ Albie pointed at Vinny. ‘That little bleeder just tried to suffocate his own brother with a cushion. Look how red Roy’s face is. He’s still coughing and spluttering now. Caught him bastard-well red-handed, I did. Another minute and this poor little sod would’ve been a goner.’

Queenie was horrified. She knew Vinny was jealous of Roy, had often caught him pinching or tormenting him. But never had he tried anything like this. She put Vinny on the floor and wagged a finger in his face. ‘What did you do to Roy, eh?’

Vinny shook his head. ‘Wasn’t me, Mum.’

Queenie slapped Vinny repeatedly on his hands. ‘Don’t you ever lie to me or let me catch you doing anything like that again. Do you hear me? What you did is fucking wrong. You’re a bad, bad boy.’

Albie rubbed Roy’s back. His breathing had thankfully returned to normal now. ‘This is your fault for spoiling him like you do,’ he told Queenie. ‘You’ll be the ruination of that boy. I’ve told you that ’til I’m blue in the face, and this is the fucking outcome.’

‘Give me Roy ’ere,’ Queenie ordered.

‘No. You take that little bastard home. I’ll bring Roy home in a bit. Don’t you ever leave him on his own with Roy again, Queenie. I mean it. Not normal behaviour that, love. Not normal at all.’

Later that evening, Queenie lay in bed studying her two sons while they slept. She wasn’t a bad mother as Albie had insinuated. Her boys were her life. She’d walk over hot coals for them if she had to.

Life hadn’t been a bed of roses since the war ended. There was still rationing for food, clothes and toiletries, amongst other stuff. And although the O’Learys sent round packages here and there, luxuries were hard to come by. Queenie had gone without herself to buy Vinny his first proper suit to wear today. Albie had said it was a waste of money and vouchers as their son was sprouting up faster than Jack and the Beanstalk, but Queenie had wanted her eldest to look smart for his grandmother’s funeral. It was what she called respect. Aunt Edna’s money was long gone now.