the voices of Gary and Ricky, Stanley handed Frankie to Joyce. ‘I dunno about you Joycie, but I most certainly need another drink.’
Joyce smiled with rare affection at her husband. ‘Me too, and make it a large one, Stanley.’
EDDIE CARVED UP the roast beef, while his wife brought in the side dishes.
‘I’ll just serve up a little plate for Frankie and Joey and the rest of yous can help yourselves,’ Jessica said.
Making sure everybody had enough meat on their plates, Eddie opened a couple of bottles of wine. ‘Who wants red and who wants white?’ he asked.
‘I’ll have red, but just a small one,’ Joyce giggled. She’d already had three glasses of sherry and was feeling a little bit tipsy.
‘Can me and Gary have a drop of wine, Dad?’ Ricky asked innocently.
Still annoyed with his sons for arsing about in the swimming pool when he’d blatantly told them not to, Eddie glared at his middle son. ‘No, you can’t, and don’t be so bloody cheeky.’
Ricky scowled and nudged his brother. ‘Mum lets us have a drink indoors, don’t she, Gary?’
‘Well, I’m not your mother and you’re not indoors now. You’re in my house and you abide by my rules. As for your mother letting you drink alcohol, I’ll be having a little word with her about that. Now, shut up the pair of you and eat your fucking dinner.’
Desperate to change the subject, Jessica picked up one of the dishes. ‘More roast potatoes anyone?’ she asked.
‘I’ll have some, sis,’ Raymond said, grinning.
Joyce pointed towards Stanley. ‘Your father will have a couple more as well,’ she told Jess.
As the potatoes were put on his plate, Stanley looked up in amazement. He had obviously spoken without him moving his mouth.
Joey slid off his chair. ‘Don’t want no more, Mummy.’
Jessica looked at his plate. He’d barely touched a morsel. She knew she shouldn’t have let him eat that ice cream he’d pleaded for earlier.
‘Try and eat some more, darling, see if you can eat as much as your sister.’
Joey shook his head. ‘I don’t feel well, I got tummy-ache,’ he lied.
Eddie shook his head as his youngest son left the table. All of his kids were good eaters, bar Joey, who was a finicky little waif. ‘He’ll be ill, that kid, if he don’t start eating more. You wanna get him up the doctor’s, find out what’s wrong with him,’ Eddie told Jess.
Jessica shrugged. ‘He’s OK, he’s just fussy, that’s all. He wasn’t well earlier, maybe that’s why.’
Frankie smiled as she took her brother’s Yorkshire pudding off his plate. ‘Joey was sick all over Mummy’s new car,’ she said, giggling.
Eddie looked at Jess in horror. ‘He weren’t, was he?’
Jessica stood up and began to clear the dinner plates. ‘It wasn’t his fault, Ed. I forgot to put some bags in there for him. The poor little sod can’t help being travel sick.’
Eddie wanted to say plenty, but instead said nothing. A fortune he’d paid for that Mercedes convertible and already it must smell like a fucking hospital ward.
‘Who wants dessert? I’ve got Black Forest gateau or fresh strawberries and ice cream,’ Jessica asked gaily.
‘I’ll have some strawberries, love,’ Stanley replied.
Joyce snatched the empty dish out of his hand. ‘No, he won’t. Fruit gives him terrible wind and I’ve got to sleep next to him tonight,’ she told Jess.
Eddie burst out laughing. How poor old Stanley put up with Joyce, he would never know. He stood up. ‘Come on Stan, I’ll take you outside and show you me new car. We can go for a quick spin in it if you like?’
Stanley grinned. He’d always been a Ford man himself, believed in buying the best of British, but he wouldn’t say no to a ride in that Porsche. Apart from his pigeons and horse racing, cars were his only other real passion. He leaped up from the dining table. ‘I’m ready when you are, Ed.’
‘You coming with us, Ray?’ Eddie asked.
‘No, Uncle Raymond. We want you to see Milky the Cow,’ Frankie said, with her hands on her hips.
‘Please don’t go, Uncle Raymond,’ Joey begged.
With two pairs of pleading eyes desperate for his company, Raymond decided to stay put.
‘We’ll have that chat when I get back,’ Eddie told him.
Stanley followed Eddie out of the front door. ‘What were the kids on about? Have you got a cow out the back?’
Eddie started to laugh. Stan didn’t have a clue, bless his cotton socks. ‘No, course not. They’re talking about their new toys – Milky, the Marvellous Milking Cow. Drove me mad for ’em, they did. All the toy shops had sold out and I spent a whole day driving around looking for ’em. I got two in the end, had to drive all the way to Southend to pick the bastard things up. The things you do for kids, eh?’
Stanley said nothing. Eddie was a good dad, a good husband, but there was still something very sinister about him that Stan couldn’t put his finger on.
Hearing the front door slam, Joyce and Jessica grinned at one another. No words were needed, but both of them were absolutely thrilled that Stanley and Eddie had got over their little differences and become friends.
‘Is it OK if me and Ricky go out the back and play football? We won’t go near the swimming pool, I promise.’
Jessica ruffled Gary’s hair. ‘Of course you can. Mind the flowerbeds, though.’
Joyce helped Jessica take the dirty dishes into the kitchen. ‘I’ll wash up for you, love,’ Joyce insisted.
Jessica giggled. ‘There’s no need, Mum, I’ve got a dishwasher.’
Joyce looked at the metal machine with interest. She’d heard about dishwashers, but had never seen one up close before. ‘You sure it cleans them properly, Jess? I mean, it ain’t like human hands, is it?’
‘Of course it cleans them properly. Now, if you wanna make yourself useful, Mum, pour us both another drink.’
Frankie poked her head around the kitchen door. ‘Grandma, where’s our presents? It’s after dinner now.’
Topping up her glass with sherry, Joyce followed Frankie into the living room. She delved into her big black shopping bag. ‘Here we go. You’ve got a jamboree bag each and me and Grandad clubbed together and bought you both a new toy.’
‘What
