Eddie kissed the inside of his hand and placed it against Jessica’s headstone. He’d been here a few times since he’d come out of prison, but he never stayed long, as it upset him too much. As they walked back to the car park, Eddie dried his eyes on the cuff of his jumper.

‘You must think I’m a right soppy prick,’ he said to Joey.

Joey shook his head. ‘Course I don’t, but shall I tell you what I do think?’

‘What?’

‘I think me and you are far more alike than we ever gave ourselves credit for, apart from me being gay, of course.’

Eddie smiled. He loved Gary and Ricky dearly, but just lately he’d felt closer to Joey than he ever had to them. He put his arm around him.

‘Like father, like son, eh?’

Joey laughed. ‘Like father, like son.’

Back in Rainham, Rita and Hilda were caught in a bit of a quandary. The letter from Stanley’s solicitor had tipped Joyce over the edge and, after crying and drinking herself senseless, she had now collapsed in a heap on the carpet.

‘What are we gonna do? Try her Raymond again,’ Rita ordered Hilda.

Rita had found Joycie’s address book and had been ringing both numbers listed for Raymond. She tried them both again.

‘Well?’ Rita asked impatiently. Albert would be back to pick her up soon, but she couldn’t leave Joyce on her own in this state.

‘There’s no answer on the home phone and on the other one some woman is saying, “We can’t connect your call.”’

‘What woman? Ask her where Raymond is, then,’ Rita yelled.

‘Don’t fucking shout: I can’t ask her, it’s one of them answer-phone thingymebobs.’

‘This is all your fault. What did you have to bring her that bloody sherry over for?’ Rita said.

‘Don’t bleedin’ well blame me. I didn’t know she was gonna drink the whole bastard bottle, did I?’ Hilda hollered.

Seeing the funny side of matters, Rita burst out laughing. ‘There ain’t never a dull moment with our Joycie, is there?’

Hilda creased up. ‘You can fucking say that again.’

Another person currently drunk and lying on the carpet was Sally Baldwin.

‘Terry, quick!’ shouted Anne, Sally’s stepmum.

Terry Baldwin ran up the stairs and stared at his comatose daughter in despair. Since having the miscarriage and coming out of hospital all Sally had done was sit in her room moping about and drinking herself senseless. Terry lifted his daughter’s body up and lay her on the bed.

‘I searched this room yesterday and couldn’t find any booze. Have a butcher’s around, Anne, see if you can find where she’s fucking stashing it.’