Joey sighed inwardly. He had been closer to their mum than anybody, and if he could accept their dad building a new life for himself, then so should his sister. Remembering his father’s orders, Joey took a deep breath.

‘It’ll be better coming from you and she’s bound to hear it via the grapevine, so make sure you tell her tomorrow,’ his dad had insisted.

‘Look, Dad asked me to tell you something and I know you ain’t gonna like it.’

Guessing what it was, Frankie stood up and angrily pushed her chair to one side. Joey was so far shoved up her father’s arse these days that she doubted anyone would be able to fit a Rizla between the old man’s cheeks.

‘Frankie, where are you going?’ Joey shouted, as she stomped off.

Ignoring her lap dog of a brother, Frankie approached the nearest screw. ‘I feel really sick. Can you take me back to my cell now, please?’

Terry Baldwin couldn’t believe how inconsiderate some people could be. Once, he’d met Anne’s mother, bloody once, and she could have chosen any date on the calendar to pop her clogs, except now. Anne’s mum had moved to Australia many moons ago to be near her beloved son and grandchildren. Anne had never been particularly close to her and, as far as Terry knew, they hadn’t even spoken on the phone for months, which is why Terry couldn’t understand his wife’s overboard hysterics over her mother’s sudden death.

‘We need to book a flight today, Tel,’ Anne stammered, between sobs.

‘But it’s the other side of the world, love. I’ve only met your mother once and you were hardly close to her, were you? You even told me you hated her guts once upon a time.’

‘How could you say such a thing? I never said I hated her guts, all I said was that we clashed a bit. I loved my mum dearly,’ Anne insisted.

‘How about we go to a travel agent and I book you a flight. Your brother’s out there with his kiddies and it’ll be nice for you to spend some time alone with your family, won’t it?’ Terry suggested.

‘You can be such an unfeeling bastard at times, Tel. I spent months caring for and putting up with your daughter and her problems, yet you can’t come to my mother’s funeral with me. I’m telling you something now, if you don’t come to Australia with me, you and I are finished.’

‘Whaddya mean, finished?’

‘I mean I want a fucking divorce!’ Anne screamed.