Stan jumped up as though he had a firework up his arse. He wasn’t the bravest man in the world and over the years he’d realised that it was easier to comply with Joycie’s orders than to argue with her.

‘Where’s Raymond?’ he asked.

Twitching the curtain, Joyce explained. ‘Gone round his mate’s. I told him not to come back until later. He’s been a cheeky little sod lately and, as for that racket he keeps playing upstairs, I didn’t want him to give a bad impression of us in front of Eddie. Quick, here they are, this is them. I’ll answer the door, you go and get some beers out the shed to offer Eddie. Now, Stanley. Quick, chop-chop.’

As they approached the house, Jessica squeezed Eddie’s big hand. Clocking Ginny and Linda staring at her from the house across the road, she waved proudly. Jessica couldn’t stop grinning. To say Eddie was a looker was an understatement. The expression tall, dark and handsome could have been created just for him. She was dying for her parents to meet him, especially her mum. The only worry she had was the age gap between them. Eddie was thirty but she had told her dad he was only twenty-five. Her mum knew the truth and once her dad got to know Eddie and like him, she would tell him the truth as well.

‘This is it, number eleven. Now, remember what I told you about my dad. He still thinks of me as his little baby, so if he’s not overly friendly, please don’t take it personally.’

Eddie kissed her on the nose. ‘You worry too much, Jess. I’ll have a chat with your old man, just leave him to me.’

Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Joyce flung open the front door.

‘Ed, this is my mum. Mum, this is Eddie,’ Jessica said, beaming.

Eddie shook Joyce’s hand and politely kissed her on both cheeks. ‘It’s a delight to meet you, Mrs Smith. Your Jessica’s told me so much about you.’

Joyce giggled. ‘All good, I hope?’

‘Most definitely,’ Eddie said, winking.

Joyce led them into the living room. ‘We’ll have a nice cup of tea, Jess, and let the men have a beer,’ she said.

Jessica smiled as she noticed her mother had got the expensive china out. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked.

Joyce offered Eddie a sandwich. ‘Gone down to the shed to get some beers. Speak of the devil – here he is now.’

Eddie put his sandwich down and stood up as Stan entered the room. ‘Dad, this is Eddie who I’ve been telling you about,’ Jessica said nervously.

At five feet eight inches tall, Stanley felt inadequate as he shook Eddie’s strong hand. He thought of the jockey who had lost him the race earlier and, for some reason, felt like his twin brother.