Jessica looked at his plate. He’d barely touched a morsel. She knew she shouldn’t have let him eat that ice cream he’d pleaded for earlier.

‘Try and eat some more, darling, see if you can eat as much as your sister.’

Joey shook his head. ‘I don’t feel well, I got tummy-ache,’ he lied.

Eddie shook his head as his youngest son left the table. All of his kids were good eaters, bar Joey, who was a finicky little waif. ‘He’ll be ill, that kid, if he don’t start eating more. You wanna get him up the doctor’s, find out what’s wrong with him,’ Eddie told Jess.

Jessica shrugged. ‘He’s OK, he’s just fussy, that’s all. He wasn’t well earlier, maybe that’s why.’

Frankie smiled as she took her brother’s Yorkshire pudding off his plate. ‘Joey was sick all over Mummy’s new car,’ she said, giggling.

Eddie looked at Jess in horror. ‘He weren’t, was he?’ Jessica stood up and began to clear the dinner plates. ‘It wasn’t his fault, Ed. I forgot to put some bags in there for him. The poor little sod can’t help being travel sick.’

Eddie wanted to say plenty, but instead said nothing. A fortune he’d paid for that Mercedes convertible and already it must smell like a fucking hospital ward.

‘Who wants dessert? I’ve got Black Forest gateau or fresh strawberries and ice cream,’ Jessica asked gaily.

‘I’ll have some strawberries, love,’ Stanley replied.

Joyce snatched the empty dish out of his hand. ‘No, he won’t. Fruit gives him terrible wind and I’ve got to sleep next to him tonight,’ she told Jess.

Eddie burst out laughing. How poor old Stanley put up with Joyce, he would never know. He stood up. ‘Come on Stan, I’ll take you outside and show you me new car. We can go for a quick spin in it if you like?’

Stanley grinned. He’d always been a Ford man himself, believed in buying the best of British, but he wouldn’t say no to a ride in that Porsche. Apart from his pigeons and horse racing, cars were his only other real passion. He leaped up from the dining table. ‘I’m ready when you are, Ed.’

‘You coming with us, Ray?’ Eddie asked.

‘No, Uncle Raymond. We want you to see Milky the Cow,’ Frankie said, with her hands on her hips.

‘Please don’t go, Uncle Raymond,’ Joey begged.

With two pairs of pleading eyes desperate for his company, Raymond decided to stay put.

‘We’ll have that chat when I get back,’ Eddie told him.

Stanley followed Eddie out of the front door. ‘What were the kids on about? Have you got a cow out the back?’