Stanley smiled as Pat put his dinner down in front of him. Roast beef, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, Brussels, carrots and peas – it was a meal fit for a king. ‘Cor, this looks handsome,’ Stanley said appreciating the presentation. They’d had a nice day today, he and Pat. They’d spent the morning out the back with the pigeons and had then had a game of cards. No more had been mentioned about the kiss they’d sort of shared and the only thing that Stanley wanted now was for Pat to stop wearing her low-cut tops. Her breasts were enormous and Stanley felt embarrassed every time Pat caught him looking at them. He tried not to, as he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, but they were so big, and when they were shoved in your face morning, noon and night, any man would have difficulty ignoring them.

‘Have some horseradish, Stanley,’ Pat said, as she sat down at the table. Seconds later, there was a knock at the door. ‘Who the bleedin’ hell’s that?’ Pat complained as she stood up again.

‘Can I help you?’ Pat asked politely, as she came face to face with Joyce and Raymond.

Joyce looked Pat up and down and was disgusted by what she saw. Unlike herself, the woman had no class. She was tarty, blonde and plump, with her Bristols hanging out for the whole world to see.

‘I’m Joycie, Stanley’s wife, and you must be Pat, the fucking old slapper.’

When his mother lunged at Pat, Raymond quickly stepped in. ‘Fighting ain’t gonna solve this, Mother,’ he said.

Stanley was petrified when he heard Joycie’s booming voice. Choking on his roast beef, he jumped up and hid behind the sofa.

‘Where is he? Stanley! Stanley!’ Joyce yelled.

Pat was shocked. Stanley had described Joyce as a person, but never her appearance, and she couldn’t believe this brazen, tall woman was his wife. Stanley was such a kind, inoffensive man, yet his wife looked like a much uglier version of Yootha Joyce.

‘He don’t wanna see you. Get out of my house,’ Pat shouted. Now she’d overcome her initial shock, she wasn’t about to take shit from this woman. Pat was a true East Ender, and women from where she came from bowed down to no one.

Aware that his mother and Pat were about to start fighting, Raymond left them to it and went in search of his father. He really didn’t need any of this shit. He had promised Polly he would get things sorted and return to her parents’ to pick her up. ‘Dad! Dad!’ he yelled.

Stanley was sweating as he hid behind the sofa. He hated violence of any kind, it made his nerves bad.