Stan had ignored her and gone downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. He’d sat up the rest of the night, frightened to go back to sleep in case his nightmare returned.

Joyce heard her daughter coming down the stairs and yelled out to her to come into the kitchen.

‘Well, how do I look?’ Jessica asked.

Joyce stared at her. She was wearing a flowery top, white plastic boots and sexy yellow hotpants.

‘You look sensational. Where did you get your shorts?’ she asked.

Jess giggled. ‘They’re not called shorts, Mum, they’re hotpants. They were only cheap, I got ’em down Petticoat Lane.’

‘What time’s Eddie picking you up? Where’s he taking you tonight?’ Joyce asked excitedly.

‘He’s picking me up at six, I’m not sure where we’re going yet.’

Joyce smiled and pointed to the fruit cake. ‘I made that for your Eddie. Are you gonna invite him in?’

‘I wasn’t planning to.’

Noticing her mum’s disappointment, Jessica immediately changed her tune. ‘I’m sure he’ll have time to come in for a quick cup of tea,’ she said.

Joyce urged Jessica to shut the kitchen door. Last night, she’d been so excited about her daughter’s romance, she could barely sleep. She had thought of an idea and she really didn’t want Stanley earwigging.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jessica asked.

‘You know what we were talking about last night? About you making sure you don’t let go of Ed.’

Jessica nodded.

Moving nearer, Joyce continued. ‘Why don’t you trap him? You know, get pregnant on purpose. I mean, let’s face it, Jess, blokes like him don’t come along every day and I’m sure if you were carrying his child, he’d propose.’

Jessica looked at her mother in horror. She wanted Eddie to propose to her because he loved her, not because she had a bun in the oven. They’d done it twice without a rubber, but only because Ed had run out, and she had no intention of trapping him. She was about to tell her mum to mind her own bloody business when the doorbell rang.

‘Quick, don’t keep him waiting,’

Joyce said. ‘Don’t you dare say anything about babies and stuff in front of him, Mum.’

Joyce pushed her towards the front door. ‘Of course not, dear.’

Stanley felt himself flinch as Eddie walked towards him.

‘Good evening, Mr Smith,’ Eddie said, holding out his hand.

As Jessica stepped out from behind him, Stan glared at her. ‘Surely you’re not going out like that? You’ve got no bloody clothes on.’

Jessica raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know who she liked the least. Her domineering mother, who was always trying to run her life for her, or her old-fashioned father, who still thought she was twelve years old.

‘It’s the fashion, Dad. All the girls are wearing hotpants.’