Eddie stroked her long blonde hair and found comfort as he took in the scent of her coconut shampoo. ‘I really love you, Jess. Me dad’s death won’t change anything. We’ll still try for that little baby, everything will be OK, I promise you.’

Jessica’s eyes welled up. ‘The baby can wait Eddie, but I’ll tell you something now – if it’s a boy, we’ll call him Harry as a tribute.’

‘Do you mean that?’ Eddie asked.

‘Yes, I do,’ Jessica said adamantly.

Downstairs, Joyce was rather enjoying all the drama. Unfortunately, Stanley wasn’t.

‘I think we should go to bed soon, dear, give the family some space,’ he whispered to his wife.

Joyce had no intention of going anywhere. She was upset over what had happened to Harry Mitchell, but would dine out on the excitement for weeks. Being part of a notorious gangster’s family suited Joyce down to the ground. She didn’t even bother to read her Mills & Boon books any more. ‘So did you say it was a baseball bat or a hammer, Ronny?’ she asked again.

Extremely drunk, Ronny spilt his guts. ‘It was a baseball bat. The lifestyle we lead, I suppose something like this was always bound to happen,’ he bragged.

Desperate to get his grandchildren away from the wheelchair psycho, Stanley ordered them to follow him into the kitchen. This was no conversation for such young ears. ‘Take no notice of Uncle Ronny. He’s very drunk and talking nonsense,’ he told them.

Frankie and Joey were unfazed. They had known what their family was for years. Insisting that they were fine, they got rid of Stanley and went outside for a sneaky smoke.

‘I bet it’ll be a big funeral,’ Frankie said to Joey.

Joey nodded. ‘Be every villain for miles there. I wonder if it’ll be televised.’

Frankie laughed. Her brother did love the camera. ‘It won’t be on telly. Grandad weren’t Al Capone, you know.’

Joey hugged his sister. ‘I dunno about you, Frankie, but I need to get out of this house tomorrow. I wish I could meet a boy I liked. David’s started to bore me now.’

Frankie slipped her arm into his. ‘Let’s get New Year out the way and then I’ll take you to a gay club. We look old enough to get in and you’ll find a decent bloke there.’

Joey squeezed her hand. ‘I’m so glad you know, Frankie. You’re the only one I can really talk to.’

Frankie smiled. She often wound Joey up – she always had – but she loved her brother more than anyone. ‘Are you upset about Grandad Harry?’ she asked him.

Joey shrugged. ‘I suppose so. He was our grandad, but we never really saw him, did we? I’d be much more upset if it was Grandad Stanley.’