‘I’m not, Joycie, I swear. It’s me knees, they’re seized up. I don’t think I can get up the stairs, I reckon I’m gonna have to sleep down ’ere tonight.’

Feeling more than a tad guilty now, Joycie went out of the room and returned five minutes later with a piece of fruit cake, a mug of Horlicks, a bottle of horse liniment and two paracetamol tablets. ‘Take your trousers off and I’ll sort you out while you eat your cake and drink your Horlicks.’

‘What! Why have I got to take me trousers off?’ Stanley asked in horror. The awful experience Pat the Pigeon had put him through had left him scarred for life.

‘Because I’m gonna rub this on your knees, you silly old git,’ Joyce said waving the glass bottle that contained the white liquid at him.

‘Oh, right,’ Stanley said, relieved.

‘What did you think I was gonna bloody do? I ain’t been near your little maggot for years and I certainly wouldn’t wanna touch it now, in case it’s been up that old slapper you were living with.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid, Pat was just a friend,’ Stanley said red-faced, as he undid the button and zip of his trousers and let Joyce tug them off.

Joyce rubbed the horse liniment into Stanley’s knees, made him take the paracetamol, then went upstairs to get him his pyjamas, a quilt and a pillow. ‘I think you should leave that new carpet, Stanley. I’ll speak to Eddie, let him sort it, he’s bound to know someone who lays carpets. If not, he’ll send one of the boys round to do it.’

‘Thanks for looking after me, love,’ Stanley said, as Joyce helped him put on his pyjama bottoms and tucked him in.

‘Goodnight, then. As soon as them legs are better, we’ll go and buy ourselves that new car, Stanley. I’m choosing it, though; my taste is classier than yours.’

Stanley grinned as his wife turned off the light and left the room. He might be in terrible pain, but as long as his Joycie was warming to him, nothing else mattered.

* * *

Another person currently suffering from a rare twinge of guilt was Eddie Mitchell. Unlike the spineless Jamie Carroll, whom Ed hated and had had great pleasure in killing, Baldwin seemed a decent geezer and was actually talking a lot of sense. Usually, when Ed confronted his victims, they turned into shivering wrecks begging and pleading for forgiveness, but not Baldwin, he had stood his ground and Ed had to admit the geezer had bottle. He even had the front to look Ed straight in the eye without as much as a flinch as he said his piece.