Eddie laughed at his eagerness. ‘Best you move your arse then, ’cause I told Jess I’d only be half an hour. Leave the door open, so you can give me the full lowdown on that little floozy you tugged.’

Jessica tried on a few outfits. She opted for her white linen trousers, red patent platform boots and a patterned vest top. She had originally chosen to wear her new dress, but had decided to keep it casual, as she had no idea what the other women would be wearing. Jess put a cardigan, a pair of denim hotpants and a pair of flipflops in her bag. She might get changed later on and, if she wanted to dance, she could take her boots off and wear her flatties.

‘I’m home, babe,’ she heard Eddie shout.

Unable to walk properly in her new chunky footwear, Jessica held on to the stair rail for dear life as she plodded down the stairs.

‘Fucking hell, sis! You look like Wonder Woman in them.’

Surprised, but pleased to see her brother, Jessica playfully punched him. ‘This is all the rage, Ray. You wouldn’t know about women’s fashion if it smacked you over the head, so I’d keep quiet if I was you,’ she joked.

‘Ed said I could come to the party with you. You don’t mind, do you?’

Jessica smiled. ‘Not at all. The twins will be thrilled.’

With Frankie in one arm and Joey in the other, Eddie walked towards Jessica. ‘You look fabulous, but you don’t need all that make-up on,’ he said, pecking her on the lips.

Jessica wiped off her eye shadow. ‘I didn’t know what to wear. It’s so warm today, I was going to wear my hotpants, but I don’t know what the other women will be wearing and I’d hate to turn up looking tarty.’

Eddie smiled. ‘You could never look like a tart, Jess. We ready to make tracks then?’

Both Jessica and Raymond nodded.

‘Gary, Ricky, move your arses. You’ve got one minute or I’m leaving you here,’ Ed shouted.

Patrick Murphy was a big, flash, loud Irishman who loved nothing more than being the centre of attention. He’d been holding his legendary bank-holiday parties for over ten years now and every year he tried to push the boat out a couple of yards more. Over the years, Patrick had fathered six children by three different women. Like many a good man, he adored his own, but wasn’t that keen on anybody else’s. This year, to rectify his own little problem, he’d fenced off a great big part of the field just for the kids. He’d hired fairground rides, swings and slides. He’d even booked Bob the balloon man and a clown from Corringham to keep the little bastards occupied and well away from the adults.