Aggie had said nothing. She didn’t trust Vinny as far as she could throw him. Neither did she like the child. There was something about Vinny Butler only a mother could love.

Cilla Watkins slipped Albie a piece of paper. ‘I’ve written me shifts down and my home address. Be lovely to have a proper catch-up with you in the future. My husband works away. Don’t be a stranger,’ Cilla winked.

Well aware that Cilla was coming on to him, Albie felt flattered yet awkward. ‘Erm, thanks. It’s been lovely seeing you, it really has. See you again soon hopefully,’ Albie said, before bolting out the pub door.

Micky One Ear slapped his pal on the back. ‘You’re well in there, mate,’ he chuckled. ‘Pretty lady an’ all. So what’s the story? You and Cilla got history?’

‘Nah, nothing like that. I had a crush on Cilla as a lad and during my early teenage years. She lived with her mum, opposite mine.’

‘Well, I think boot might be on the other foot now. She was certainly sending out signals. You gonna see her again?’

‘Is the guvnor interested in me booze?’

‘Yeah. Alf said to drop some samples in. Reckons the cheap spirits he’s been offered on the black market are shit.’

‘I’ll probably see Cilla when I pop back with the samples then. I’d like to have a good catch-up over old times with her.’

‘By the look on Cilla’s boat-race, she wants more than a chat about old times. Once a stud, always a stud, Butler,’ laughed Micky.

‘Shut up,’ Albie chortled. ‘I’m a happily married man and I certainly wouldn’t be getting on the wrong side of my Queenie. I like me bollocks intact, thanks.’

Queenie put two bowls of leftover beef stew on the table and two doorstop slices of bread. ‘Don’t waste that now, boys. Eat it all up. You want to grow big and strong, don’tcha?’

‘I’m a big boy now,’ Vinny replied.

Roy dived straight in, unfortunately missing his mouth with the spoon. ‘Dadda,’ he said, hearing the front door open and close.

It wasn’t Albie. It was Viv.

‘All right, Queen? Got you another bag of goodies ’ere. Tomatoes and apples are a bit rotten, but I’m sure you’ll still make use of ’em. The rest of it looks OK.’

‘Ooh, lovely.’ Vivian working for Sid at the greengrocer’s certainly had its perks; he often allowed Viv to bring home fruit and veg that was no longer deemed fit for sale. With certain food still being rationed and hungry mouths to feed, Queenie would find use for even the most rotten fruit and veg. ‘You staying for tea? I bought some sprats. Albie can have the rest of the stew.’

‘Yes, please,’ Vivian beamed, her face flushed.

‘Come on, out with it. What you looking so happy about?’

‘You know me only too well,’ Viv laughed. ‘There’s this bloke who comes in the grocer’s quite a lot to get fruit and veg for his mum. He’s ever so handsome, Queen, and often treats me to a cheeky grin as he leaves. He’s funny too, got the gift of the gab. Sid knows him, I think, ’cause he usually serves him, but today Sid had popped out, so there was only me and Simple Brian there. Anyway, as I was serving him, he started asking questions. He asked how old I was and if I had a boyfriend. Then as he left, he turned back, winked at me and said, “I’ll see you again very soon, treacle,” in a seductive voice.’