‘I left my phone in the car. I’d no idea. As soon as I saw the messages, I got here as fast as I could.’

Gloria lifted her head from Arthur’s shoulder, all her anger now centred on Eric. ‘You never let that bloody phone out of your sight. It’s like history repeating itself. Our Mikey needs you, and once again, you’re on the missing list. You expect us to treat you the same as Mikey, but you don’t act the bloody same. Ya never have. You’ve no idea of the meaning “family stick together”, have you?’

With a face like an angry bulldog, Eric retorted, ‘Christ, if it was Mike who arrived late, neither of you would bat an eyelid. You’d just assume he’d had more important things to do!’

Like a coiled spring, Gloria was up on her feet, pointing her finger in Eric’s face. ‘Now you listen to me. If it was your son lying there fighting for his . . . ’ she said, as she choked on her words and cleared her throat, ‘nothing on this earth would’ve stopped Mikey from being right by your side.’

Childishly, Eric snapped back. ‘Well, I don’t have a son, and like I said, I left my phone in the car.’

Gloria was in floods of tears again, and Arthur pulled her away and sat her down, patting her shoulder. ‘Settle down, my love.’ Then he turned to face Eric. His slow, confident words made everyone sit up.

‘Eric, I’m no fool, and the excuses you pull out of your arse really don’t wash with me.’ He straightened his shoulders and raised his eyebrow. For a man in his late sixties, he bore a look of an army general and was treated as such. ‘Your phone may well have been in your car, but I also called your landline, which certainly was working, since it diverted to your answerphone.’

Eric felt hot under the collar. ‘I’m sorry but I didn’t hear it. I must’ve been asleep or in the shower.’

Arthur gave him a slow, disapproving shake of his head.

Before another excuse could leave Eric’s mouth, the door opened, and there, looking exhausted and deflated, stood Mike.

Gloria jumped up from her chair and hurried over to him, flinging her arms around him. ‘Come and sit down, Son. How’s our boy doing?’

Mike almost collapsed on the chair. ‘He’s still in a coma. I guess he’s in the lap of the gods now.’

He rubbed his face to wake himself up and then looked up at his father, who was still standing.

‘Dad, I think you’d better find Jackie—’

‘What!’ screeched Gloria. ‘That good-for-nuffin tramp!’