‘Well, best you do, Albie. Because if I haven’t got a decent outfit to wear for Bert’s wedding, then I ain’t bleedin’ well coming.’

Albie perched himself on the bar stool in the Hoop and Grapes. ‘Large brandy please, mate.’

‘On the house,’ Micky One Ear said, as he plonked the drink down in front of his pal. ‘Bad day?’

‘You could say that. Been a bad year, if I’m honest, Mick. What with losing me mum and stuff. Now I got to sort out new living arrangements as Bert moves out straight after his wedding. Queenie wants us to move in with her mum and sister, but that ain’t gonna work. The sister’s round ours all the bleedin’ time as it is. On top of all that, Queenie’s been on my bloody case this morning for some posh new outfit she wants to buy. I got about ten geezers who owe me money for fags and booze, but only two have coughed up this morning. The rest have told me to come back later in the week. I dread going home tonight if I ain’t got enough dosh to give the old woman.’

At forty-six years old, Micky One Ear was a lot wiser and older than Albie. Most of the locals knew that Albie had shirked his duties to fight for his country, but nobody really disliked him because of it. Albie was a joker, a true character, but had never been able to fight his way out of a paper bag. ‘I’ll lend you whatever dosh you need to buy Queenie her outfit. On one condition though.’

‘What?’

‘That you come out on the piss with me this afternoon. My treat. My Sheila’s given me the rest of the day off.’

Albie Butler grinned. ‘You’re on.’

‘Stop fighting and sit up straight,’ Queenie ordered Vinny. He was sulking because she’d walloped him and given him a good telling off earlier. Time and time again she’d told him never to touch a dead rat and this morning she’d caught him red-handed. He was pulling the insides out of one he’d found with his bare bloody hands. There were lots of stray cats hanging around lately and Queenie guessed one of them had caught the thing before Vinny had found it and decided to give it an autopsy. She’d had to boil a kettle and scrub the dirty little sod’s hands with a brush and Coal Tar soap until they’d almost bled.

‘Feel sick, Mum,’ Vinny announced.

Queenie placed her hand on her son’s forehead. He didn’t seem to have a temperature, but it was common knowledge that rats carried terrible diseases. ‘We’re getting off next stop. You’ll be fine once you get some fresh air. And if you ain’t, I’m blaming your bleedin’ father.’

Albie was thoroughly enjoying his unexpected jaunt with Micky One Ear. They’d lined their stomachs in Manze’s with pie, mash and eels, and were currently in the Lord Palmerston in Hewlett Road. Every boozer they’d been in, Micky had been greeted warmly by the guvnor and their first drink had been on the house. Micky had also recommended the bootleg booze Albie got his hands on via Paddy Adams, and Albie had promised to pop back tomorrow with a sample of everything he sold.