Nula’s life became one huge round of debt. Bing Crosby crooned ‘White Christmas’ all over the city as Christmas came and slowly went. She was working like stink to raise cash, taking all the overtime she could, but it still wasn’t enough. So she took another job in the evenings, working the bar down the Dog and Duck, and then when even that didn’t cut it she took another job on Sundays, polishing tables and cleaning out the disgusting bogs in the local working men’s club.

Finally she broke down in tears and told Jimmy. It was humiliating to have to confide anything to that smug bastard, but she couldn’t tell her friends because she was too ashamed of her own stupidity, wandering into this deal with her eyes shut, and she couldn’t tell her parents because she never told them anything, not ever, and she wasn’t about to start now.

‘Right,’ said Jimmy, puffing himself up while Nula sobbed at the kitchen table. ‘I’m going to have a word with that fucker.’

‘That won’t do any good,’ she gasped out.

‘Oh won’t it? We’ll see about that.’

And Jimmy belted off out of the kitchen and down the hall, slamming the front door behind him.

Jimmy didn’t come back for his tea. Mum was fretting as they waited and Nula was fretting even worse because she knew where Jimmy had gone and she didn’t dare say a word about it.

Mum set Jimmy’s dinner on a covered plate over a simmering pan of water to keep it warm. It sat there for over two hours, until it was turned to mush. Then Mum scraped the lot into the bin and started pacing around while Dad took to standing at the front door, gazing out into the night, letting in gusts of cold air. Nula sat at the table, fearful of where this was all going to end, nervous that Jimmy’s meddling was going to bring her secret out into the daylight.

Then there was the sound of a motor revving out in the street, a shout went up and there was heavy footfall by the front door. Presently, Dad staggered into the kitchen holding Jimmy up. He was bleeding from cuts to his face. His skin was grey and he was clutching his guts.

‘What happened?’ asked Mum, as she helped her husband ease their son into a chair. ‘Oh Gawd son, what they done to you?’

Through one half-closed eye, Jimmy stared at his sister. His expression said it all. You daft cow, this is all your fault.

‘Charlie Stone beat me up,’ he mumbled.

‘Why? What for?’ asked Dad.

‘Just for the hell of it, I s’pose,’ said Jimmy, as Mum started mopping away the blood from his face.