Within seconds of walking indoors, Jock heard his phone ringing. He glanced at the clock. It was 4 p.m. and his daughter usually rang him at this time most days. He picked up the phone and was horrified to hear Joyce on the other end.

‘Well, did you find the old bastard?’

‘Aye, but I didn’t speak to him, Joycie. He’s still really angry with me, I could see it in his face.’

‘So, where is he then? Where did you see him?’

Aware of how irate Joyce sounded, Jock chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to get his old mate into too much trouble, but if he didn’t give Joycie some information, she would be sure to call the police and find out Stanley’s whereabouts anyway.

‘He was in the Orsett Cock pub. He’s staying with a friend who lives up that way, I think.’

‘Friend! What friend? Apart from you, my Stanley has never had any bleedin’ friends. What’s the bloke’s name he’s stopping with?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Jock replied untruthfully.

Joyce instinctively knew that Jock was lying. Stanley had definitely been behaving oddly for the last couple of months. He disappeared regularly, usually at lunchtime. He’d put on weight, but ate smaller meals at home, and she could swear she’d whiffed women’s perfume on his clothes and it certainly wasn’t her Estée Lauder. It all added up now, every single, last, sordid detail.

‘What’s the old tart’s name, Jock? I know it’s a woman, so don’t you dare fucking lie to me.’

Jock felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘I swear, it’s not what you think, Joycie. Him and Pat are just friends, that’s all. Your Stanley has decent morals, love,’ he stammered.

‘Well, I’ll give him morals and I’ll give her fucking Pat. What’s the old bag’s address?’ Joyce screamed down the phone.

Jock was petrified of Joyce at the best of times. ‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t. All I know is she lives in Orsett,’ he said, his hands shaking.

‘Well, I’ll be taking a little trip to Orsett and when I find that dirty old bastard I married, I’m gonna chop his fucking bits off and feed ’em to his pigeons.’

Unaware that his old woman was on his tail and currently spitting feathers, Stanley and Pat were rather inebriated and cuddled up on the sofa. They had left the pub about an hour ago and they must have sunk at least ten or twelve drinks while they were out. At one point, Stanley had even felt his legs start to buckle.

‘Do you wanna watch a film, Stanley, or shall we have an early night?’ Pat asked him expectantly.