Gina turned her head towards Eddie and grinned. She would be thirty-five by the time the baby was born and she had never been so excited about anything in her life before. There was a time when Gina had given up on meeting Mr Right and becoming a mother, but meeting Eddie Mitchell had changed all that. From the first moment Gina had laid eyes on Eddie, she had known he was the one and now he had made all her dreams come true.

‘I like Michaela for a girl and Bradley for a boy,’ Gina suggested.

Eddie pondered over her choices, then turned to her. ‘I like Rosie, be a nice tribute to me mum. Michaela’s OK, though. My Frankie’s real name is Francesca and Georgie’s birth name is Georgina, so like both of these, Michaela will be shortened to Micky. Micky Mitchell, yeah, sounds proper. I dunno about Bradley though, sounds a bit poofy to me and, as much as I love Joey, I don’t want two gay sons.’

‘Bradley don’t sound poofy! What about Gavin, do you like that?’ Gina asked.

Eddie shook his head. ‘Gavin Mitchell sounds like a fucking accountant who drinks piña coladas and plays squash at weekends.’

Gina playfully punched his arm. Eddie could be such a comical bastard at times; his sense of humour was second to none. ‘You pick some boys’ names then,’ she urged him.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow and thought carefully. If they had a son, he wanted him to have an old-fashioned, masculine-sounding name. He hated all that trendy bollocks. ‘I like Lenny. Lenny Mitchell, whaddya think?’

Gina smiled. She wasn’t struck on the name Lenny, but she quite liked Rosie. ‘If it’s a girl, you can call her Rosie, after your mum. If it’s a boy though, I choose. I quite like Aaron as well.’

Eddie held out his right hand. ‘You got yourself a deal, babe. Now can I fuck you again?’

Gina giggled as Eddie rolled on top of her. ‘You’re insatiable, Eddie Mitchell, has anybody ever told you that before?’

Thrusting his penis inside her, Eddie smirked. ‘Of course, therefore you should think yourself one lucky girl to have got me, babe.’

* * *

Raymond pulled up outside the Orsett Cock pub. His mother had had verbal diarrhoea for the entire journey and he now had the stirrings of a headache.

When Joyce went to leap out of the car, Raymond grabbed her arm. He knew she’d had a few drinks and he didn’t want her showing herself up, nor him, for that matter. ‘You stay ’ere for a minute, Mum. Let me go in first, see if Dad’s in there. If he is, I’ll bring him outside, if not, I’ll get this old bird’s address.’