Ronny was in a quiet mood. He hated being stuck in a wheelchair and he couldn’t stand other people being happy. No one knew what his life was like. Being treated like a cripple made him feel so inferior that sometimes he wished he was dead.

‘Looking forward to Christmas around Paulie’s?’ Eddie asked him cheerfully.

‘Yeah, can’t wait. I’m gonna dress up as fucking Santa and slide down the chimney while singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”,’ Ronny answered sarcastically.

Eddie glanced at Sharon. She had just turned up to take Ronny home and Eddie felt truly sorry for her. Years ago, he’d never been a massive fan of his brother’s bird, but just lately his heart went out to her. Most women would have run a mile after Ronny’s accident, but Sharon had stuck by him through thick and thin. Ronny showed her no love at all, he spoke to her like shit and Eddie didn’t know how she put up with him. It wasn’t as though they had kids or anything to keep her there.

‘Come up the bar; let me get you a drink, Sharon,’ Eddie said.

‘Yeah, go on. Fuck off with him, I dunno why you turned up so early – I ain’t going nowhere yet,’ Ronny said nastily.

With tears in her eyes, Sharon followed Eddie up to the bar.

‘What do you want, love?’ Eddie asked her.

Sharon shrugged. ‘I’ll just have an orange juice, please.’ Eddie smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you have something stronger? Have a glass of wine or something. One won’t hurt you.’

Sharon shook her head. ‘Living with Ronny has put me off drink for life.’

Eddie shouted up an orange juice and handed it to her. ‘Listen, if you ever need any outside help, just let me know. I can pay for a carer or someone who will give you a break.’

Sharon felt her eyes well up again. She wasn’t used to kindness. ‘I can manage all right. I just wish he was more grateful and didn’t drink so much. When he’s drunk, he says the most terrible things to me.’

Eddie nodded sympathetically. ‘My offer will always be there for you, Sharon. You know my number. If things get too much for you, then ring me.’

Sharon smiled sadly. ‘Thanks Ed, I will.’

‘What’s for dinner, love?’ Stanley asked his daughter.

‘I’ve done a nice cold-meat buffet with crusty bread, pickles, jacket potatoes, cheese and coleslaw. I thought it best that we don’t overeat tonight – we don’t want to spoil ourselves for tomorrow, do we?’

Joyce agreed. ‘Any chance of another glass of Baileys, dear?’

‘We’re going out now, Mum,’ Frankie said, as she walked into the room all dolled up in a denim miniskirt.