Unbeknown to Joycie, Pat the Pigeon had passed away last summer. Brian from the pigeon club had told him the news. Pat had been living with a chap fifteen years her junior and had died of a heart attack, apparently. Stanley had never laid eyes on the woman since the day he’d moved out of her house. He’d avoided every pigeon race he knew she’d be at. He would never get over the vulgar ordeal that she’d put him through, and he often wondered if it was her appetite for nookie that had finally killed her. Thoughts of Pat were erased from Stanley’s mind as the shed door flew open.

‘Get your arse upstairs and get washed and changed. Joey and Dominic are picking us up. We’re going over Frankie’s for the day, to help cheer her up.’

Stanley immediately put Bertha away. ‘Yes, dear,’ he said, almost methodically.

‘And put something decent on. Wear your grey slacks and that nice blue shirt I bought you last Christmas.’

‘Yes, dear,’ Stanley said again. He shut the shed door, locked it and smiled. After fourteen unbearable days, Joycie had finally forgiven him.

After a pleasant stroll around the local country park with Babs and the boys, Frankie returned home to find Kerry sitting on the doorstep. Once upon a time Frankie and Kerry had been inseparable, but since she had come out of prison, Frankie made excuses whenever Kerry asked to meet up. Being with her old pal brought back too many bad memories and hearing Kerry drone on endlessly about her two sons, Freddy and Sammy Junior, depressed Frankie no end.

‘All right, what you doin’ here?’ Frankie asked, forcing a smile. Kerry had been brilliant at her trial, which made Frankie feel all the more guilty for blanking her invitations.

‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, or whatever the saying is,’ Kerry said, giving Frankie a hug.

‘Sit in the lounge with Babs while I make us a cuppa.’ Frankie told her.

Kerry did no such thing and instead followed Frankie into the kitchen. ‘I brought you a bottle of wine. I know what day it is today, so I thought you could probably do with some cheering up. Ain’t Brett got big? Christ, I could have walked past him in the street and not even recognised him. Why don’t we ever see each other any more, Frankie? You ain’t seen Sammy Junior or Freddy for yonks and I’d love you to be part of their lives. I was gonna bring them with me today, but I didn’t want to upset you. I know how hard it must be for you still not knowing where Georgie and Harry are, but we shouldn’t lose contact, mate, not after everything we went through together.’