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had barely known his mother. Karen had been a stripper at the club when she’d fallen pregnant by Vinny. He’d paid her off and brought his son up with the help of his mum. When Little Vinny was five, Karen had turned up on his doorstep like a bad penny. He’d had her done away with, ordering that her murder be made to look like a heroin overdose. ‘Look, boy, I know you aren’t happy about me being with Joanna and her being pregnant, but I bet once your brother or sister is born, you’ll be in your element.’
    ‘No, I won’t. I hate babies,’ Little Vinny replied, his lip protruding sulkily.
    ‘But it won’t stay a baby for long. It will soon be old enough for you to talk to and take out. I remember sulking when your nan fell pregnant with Roy. I wanted to be the only kid. When Roy was born, I soon grew to love him – and you’ll be the same when Jo’s baby is born. You’re my first-born, Vinny, and you’re always going to be more special to me than any other kid.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes, really. I’ve always been closer to Nanny than Roy, Michael or Brenda were, and that’s because I was her first-born. Number one son you are, boy. Very special that is.’
    When Little Vinny grinned, Vinny ruffled his hair. ‘Now, go and put your suit on.’
    Vivian Harris took one last look inside Lenny’s old bedroom and shut the door. It looked bare and cold now, just like her heart felt. The dustmen must have taken away his stuff because she’d looked out of the window an hour ago and it was gone. A mass of flowers had replaced her son’s belongings.
    Hearing voices outside, Vivian peeked through the curtain again. ‘Nosy fucking bastards. Go away and leave me alone,’ she muttered. She had only ever been interested in her family. In her eyes, nobody else mattered.
    Aware that somebody was staring up at her, Viv jumped away from the curtain. She poured herself another brandy and lay down on her bed. As soon as her pest of a sister left for the funeral, she planned to fall asleep and never wake up. Lenny needed her, he always had, and she was determined to be there in heaven for him. That’s if the bastard place existed, of course.
    When Michael arrived, Queenie Butler battled her way through the well-wishing mourners to get to her sister’s house. Vivian had insisted on being left alone earlier and had promised she would knock at Queenie’s as soon as the coffins arrived. She hadn’t. Queenie put her key in the door, but the chain was on. ‘Viv, it’s me. Let me in.’
    When she still received no reply, Queenie started to get angry. ‘Vivvy, open this bastard door now,’ she yelled.
    Aware of Nosy Hilda and Mouthy Maureen staring at her, Queenie pushed past the gawping mourners and marched back to her own house. ‘Vinny, you’re going to have to do something. Viv’s locked herself in and she won’t answer the door. It’s all your fault for fitting that poxy chain lock, so best you sort it. What with your sister and son, I’ve had enough drama for one day.’
    Vinny snatched the key off his mum, then darted next door. ‘Auntie Viv, come and take this lock off please. We have to leave soon, the cars are here.’
    After five minutes of begging his aunt to answer the door and receiving no reply, Vinny took a couple of steps back and booted the door open. He looked in the lounge first, then ran up the stairs.
    ‘Go away and leave me alone,’ Vivian screamed when her bedroom door flew open.
    ‘What you doing, still in bed? We have to leave in a minute. Why aren’t you dressed?’ Vinny asked.
    ‘Because I ain’t coming. Nothing is going to bring my Lenny back. Why would I want all them nosy cunts out there gawping at me, revelling in my misfortune?’
    Clocking the bottle of brandy on Vivian’s bedside cabinet, Vinny sighed. Only his mother could sort this one out and she was going to go apeshit when she found out Viv was sloshed. He ran back to his mum’s, drew her aside and told her, ‘Viv