Eddie sat in between them and put an arm around each of them. He’d had the hump earlier when he couldn’t find out who had brought the poxy house he’d wanted and he shouldn’t have taken it out on them for having a dip. ‘Sorry for shouting at you earlier. Listen, I’ll do you a deal. Go and pour your old dad a drink and you can both have a can of lager.’

Gary smiled. ‘Can we really?’

‘Just the one, mind. Now move your arses, ’cause Daddy’s thirsty.’

Eddie felt a pang of guilt as they ran excitedly from the room. They must feel left out sometimes with all the attention showered upon the twins. The poor little sods didn’t have much of a home life and they were good kids at heart.

‘Christ, you must have poured half the bottle in there,’ Ed said to Gary, as he was handed a full glass of Scotch.

Urging the boys to sit down next to him, he told them about his plans for the following weekend. ‘Grandad Harry is organising a surprise party for your Uncle Reg to celebrate his retirement, so we’re going to that on Friday, and you know Pat Murphy who owns that old converted farmhouse not far from here?’

Ricky looked bemused, but Gary nodded. ‘Is that the man you took us to see, he used to be a boxer?’

‘Yep, that’s the one. Well, every year he has this big bank-holiday party, where he invites all his family, all his mates and the neighbours. Well, as we’re neighbours now, we’ve got an invite. I’ve never been before, but it’s meant to be the bollocks. He has everything there, rides for the kids, a boxing ring, there’s a barbecue, a disco. It’s next Sunday, so do yous boys fancy it?’

‘Yeah. Can I have a go at the boxing?’ Gary asked.

‘Me too. I wanna box as well,’ Ricky said.

Eddie gently banged their heads together. ‘Only if you behave yourselves in between.’

‘We will, we promise,’ they both said.

Gary and Ricky both loved boxing. Eddie had sent them up to Peacock Gym in Canning Town at quite a young age and they were both good little prospects, according to their trainer.

Hyped up, Gary and Ricky went out the back to practise their sparring.

‘What party’s that, then?’ Jessica asked, sitting down next to Eddie.

‘Pat Murphy’s. The kids will love it. He has clowns, all sorts of entertainment for them, it’ll give you a chance to meet some of the other wives as well. Next Sunday, it is.’

Jessica squeezed his hand. He was such a softie, her Ed. A real family man. ‘It sounds wonderful. Roll on next week,’ she said, kissing him gently.

‘Mum, Dad, Joey won’t give me my new doll back,’ Frankie whinged.