‘Go on, don’t keep us waiting,’ Joyce said laughing.
Glancing at Dominic, Joey took a deep breath. ‘Well, you know I’ve been staying at Dominic’s flat?’
Raymond nudged Polly. He sort of knew what was coming next.
‘Spit it out, Joey,’ Stanley urged him.
‘I think it’s time you all knew the truth. Dominic isn’t my friend – he’s my boyfriend.’
Stanley and Joyce glanced at one another. Whatever was the boy trying to say?
‘Whaddya mean, boyfriend?’ Joyce said, frowning.
‘I’m gay, Nan. Dominic and I are a couple like you and Grandad are.’
‘Oh my gawd,’ Joyce said, feeling faint.
Not knowing what to say or do, Stanley stood up. ‘Excuse me. The pigeons need feeding.’
Unaware that her brother had just come out of the closet, Frankie was snuggled up to Jed, discussing baby names. After her earlier outburst, Frankie had enjoyed the rest of the evening. Jed had been really attentive, had got himself showered and then made passionate love to her.
‘What about Rocky? That sounds well cool, Rocky O’Hara,’ Jed suggested.
Frankie screwed her nose up. Girls’ names, they could agree on, but Jed had the most awful taste in boys’ names.
Yawning, Jed shut his eyes. Frankie had got on his nerves today, so he pictured what he’d done to her grandfather and smiled.
‘What you looking so happy about?’ Frankie asked him.
Jed opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. ‘How ’bout if we have a boy, we call it Harry in memory of your grandad? At least then the name’s got meaning.’
Frankie had never been particularly close to her grandfather, so was initially unsure. ‘Harry O’Hara,’ she repeated over and over again.
She smiled at Jed. ‘Actually, I quite like it. It has a certain ring to it.’
Jed winked at her. ‘Well, that’s decided, then. If it’s a boy, Harry O’Hara it is.’
Thrilled by Jed’s thoughtfulness, Frankie kissed him gently.
‘Night, babe,’ Jed said, as he turned the light out.
Picturing Sammy’s face when he told him the choice of name for his unborn child, Jed struggled not to giggle. If Frankie ever found out what he’d done to her grandad, she’d muller him.
There was little chance of that, though. Jed was far too clever for even the Old Bill, let alone some simpleton like Frankie.
Joyce and Stanley sat in silence over the breakfast table. Both were still in shock over Joey’s revelation the previous evening and neither knew what to say to one another.
Knowing that it was usually her job to break the ice, Joyce swallowed the last mouthful of her beans on toast, then broached the subject. ‘We need to talk about Joey, Stanley.’
Stanley threw his knife and fork down onto his plate. ‘I’ve nothing to say going the boy, Joycie.’
Joyce sighed. Her husband could be such a stubborn man at times. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation herself, but she wasn’t going to lose her grandson over it.
As Stanley stood up, Joyce ordered him to sit back down. ‘I need to see to me pigeons, they’ll be starving,’ Stanley said sullenly.
‘Them poxy birds will have to bloody well wait for their grub for once. They eat more than I bleedin’ well do. They’re getting that fat, I’m surprised they can even bastard well fly!’
Stanley sighed as Joyce continued. ‘Now, you listen to me. When you stormed off last night, like you always do in a crisis, our Joey carried on talking. He told me and Raymond that Jessica knew all about his relationship with Dominic. He said that she was happy that he’d found love and she fully supported his sexuality. If that’s the case, and I believe Joey was telling the truth, then we have to support him, too. He’s not a nonce or a murderer, Stanley, he just likes boys rather than girls. If our Jess is looking down, she would want us to accept him for what he is.’
Stanley averted his eyes from his wife. He’d never really known any homosexuals before and the subject made him feel extremely uncomfortable. ‘I know what you’re saying, Joycie, but a bloke fancying a bloke ain’t natural, is it? Can’t you have a chat with Joey, see if you can try and fix him up with a girl or something? I mean, imagine Jock and me mates at the pigeon club finding out? It’s embarrassing.’
Joyce pursed her lips. ‘Ain’t natural, ain’t fucking natural! What about you and them bleedin’ mates of yours? Spend half your life talking about your hens and playing with your cocks. Love them poxy birds more than anything, the lot of yous do, and that ain’t bloody natural. Like it or not, Stanley, I’m gonna support that boy. Joey’s my grandson and I love him dearly.’
Stanley nodded, got up and opened the back door. If Joycie had decided to stand by Joey, he knew he had little choice other than to agree with her decision.
Flanked by a prison guard on either side, Eddie Mitchell walked confidently towards the guvnor’s office. He didn’t know either of the two screws who had summoned him there. As for Johnny and old Fred, Ed still hadn’t seen either of them since yesterday morning.
The taller screw out of the two tapped on the guvnor’s door and shoved Eddie inside.
‘Ah, Mr Mitchell,’ the guvnor said sarcastically.
The guvnor was a lot older and shorter than Eddie had imagined him to be. He had grey, curly hair, was probably in his late fifties and had the look of a judge or a magistrate.
Eddie stood tall, arched his shoulders back and made strong eye contact with him.
‘Yesterday morning, at approximately 7 a.m., your cellmate, Barry Macarthy, was viciously attacked in the shower room. You were seen within the vicinity, Mitchell, so what can you tell me about this unfortunate incident?’
Eddie didn’t flinch as he stared the guvnor straight in the eye. ‘Nothing whatsoever, sir. I do remember seeing Barry Macarthy in the shower room, but I left before him. There was certainly nothing wrong with him while I was there, as I remember hearing him laughing and joking with his mates.’
When the guvnor started to pace up and down the room, Ed knew he had nothing on him. The mug was just fishing, that’s all he was doing.
‘This is a very serious offence, Mitchell. The doctors have already had to remove one of Macarthy’s eyes and at this precise moment they’re desperately trying to save his sight in the other.’
Eddie shrugged. ‘I’ll be honest with you, sir, I was no fan of Barry Macarthy, but what happened to him was nothing to do with me. The best thing you can do
