‘Tell your cousin to tell Jed that if he stops me seeing Georgie and Harry then I’m gonna tell the police the truth about everything.’

‘And what is the truth?’ Katie asked sympathetically.

Frankie was saved from answering by a screw opening the cell door.

‘Come on, Mitchell, back to your own cell. Freeflow is over now.’

Squeezing Katie’s hand, Frankie stood up and walked away. She glanced back at her. ‘See what you can do for me, Katie.’

Katie nodded. ‘I’ll sort it, I promise.’

Raymond had little joy in tracking his father down, so he got up early and drove back to Orsett the following morning. Eddie had understood when he’d explained his predicament.

‘Listen, I like Joycie, so you do what you can to make her happy again. Me and the lads can still go to Milton Keynes. It’s silly five of us going, anyway,’ Ed insisted.

Pulling up outside Pat the Pigeon’s house, Raymond smirked. Unlike the previous day, his father’s car was parked on the drive and he was pleased he hadn’t had another wasted journey. Raymond knocked on the front door. His nickname for Pat was ‘the Trollop’ and it was the Trollop who answered it.

‘Is me dad there?’ he asked coldly.

‘Wait there and I’ll fetch him,’ Pat replied, just as icily.

Stanley appeared a couple of minutes later and glared at his son. He’d never truly forgiven Raymond for his involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder.

‘I’m cleaning out the pigeons. What do you want?’ he asked, clearly rattled.

‘We need to talk, Dad. Not here, somewhere else.’

‘There’s nothing more to say, Raymond. I’ve said everything I wanted to your mother.’

‘There’s a boozer I know not ten minutes from here that opens early. Let’s go there for a pint, Dad, so we can talk properly.’

‘I don’t want to drink at nine o’clock in the morning. Anyway I can’t, Pat and I are racing the pigeons today.’

Getting annoyed by his father’s shirty attitude, Raymond grabbed him by the neck of his jumper and dragged him out of the front door.

‘What are you doing? Get off me, you fucking thug,’ Stanley shouted loudly.

‘I’m taking you back home where you belong. Mum is in bits because of you and I ain’t having her heart broken. It’s nearly Christmas, for fuck’s sake. How’s she meant to get through the festive period without you and Jessica, eh?’

Pat the Pigeon, who had had her nose pressed to the window, now flung it open. ‘You OK, Stanley?’ she yelled, as her fancy man was dragged down the path.

‘Ring the police, Pat,’ Stanley gasped.