It was less than a month ago that he’d come home with Harold in tow to tell her that he’d be taking over the tailor’s shop earlier than expected. Harold had done most of the explaining.

‘Gloib mir, your son to me is bracha. My health is none too good, Maureen, and I’m going to allow the boy to do his own thing. He’s as good as mishpachas to me, and he’s that good a salesman, my dear, all I do is sit on my tuchis all day. So, from next Monday young James is the proud owner of Cohen and Son. James, open the champagne,’ he urged.

Maureen joined in with the toast. ‘Mazel tov,’ she repeated after Harold.

When Harold left, she turned to James. ‘I’ve guessed you’re taking over the shop on Monday, but I never understood the rest. Doesn’t he talk funny, that Harold?’

James smiled. ‘He said that I’m a godsend and as good as family, Mum. Mazel tov means congratulations.’

Maureen looked at her son in awe. ‘How do yer know what he’s saying?’

James laughed. ‘He speaks Yiddish. I’ve picked it up so well that I can now speak it better than he can.’

Maria had also been a positive change in James’s life, and Maureen had never seen him so happy. To say they were inseparable was an understatement. They were totally in love and the tenderness they shared sometimes brought tears to her eyes. God had obviously looked down on her son and his girlfriend, as they had found that special something most of the world could only dream of. She was sure it would last between them. Having been best friends for years, they knew one another inside out. They were far too well suited and loved up for things to go wrong and, hopefully, one day they’d get married, have kids and live happily ever after.

True love was hard to find, she knew that only too well. Once she’d felt the real thing, the passion, but it wasn’t to be. Not wanting to dwell on the past, she thought about her Susan. She still wasn’t due for a couple of months, but her pregnancy was now taking its toll on her. She was ever so miserable, her feet were swollen and she was struggling with back pain. Maureen had done the best that she could. Most days she popped round Susan’s flat and helped her with the shopping and housework.

‘It’ll all be worth it when you’re holding that beautiful little baby,’ she kept telling her.

‘I’m never having any more, Mum,’ Susan wept.

Maureen was doing buttons for her first grandchild to arrive. She’d knitted some beautiful little baby coats and was always picking up bargains on the market.

Ethel was a regular visitor to Mothercare. ‘I’ve never known an easier store to thieve out of,’ she exclaimed. ‘They’re a load of divs that work there. I could walk out with fuckin’ armfuls and no one would notice.’

With two of her kids sorted, Maureen still worried about the third. The night she’d chucked Tommy out, she’d been determined to wash her hands of him for good. Trouble was, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t. She didn’t like him very much, but having spent hours in labour giving birth to him, she couldn’t hate him either. They were on speaking terms again, just. She didn’t see much of him, but he popped in here and there to say hello. How he earned his money was a subject they no longer spoke about. He seemed to be doing OK, though. He had a girlfriend, whom she’d met once, called Lucy, and he was renting a flat with Freddie in Ilford somewhere.

It had been James who had begged her to resume contact with him. At first she’d refused, but he’d kept on and on at her until she’d agreed.

‘Please, Mum, for my sake. Tommy adores you and the only reason he lied about the building site was ’cause he didn’t want you to worry.’

James had always known how to wind her round his little finger. This time it was his persistence and doleful expression that did the trick.

‘Bring the no-good bastard round, then,’ she told him.

Although James was still in regular contact with his brother, they rarely went out drinking together any more, which pleased Maureen immensely. James had gone off the rails a bit when he’d been out boozing with Tommy and now he was with Maria, he’d sorted himself out. Maureen couldn’t help turning her thoughts back to her youngest. She was so proud of him running that posh tailor’s shop on his own. Her baby, the businessman – who would have ever believed it?

Feeling the first spots of rain, Maureen opened her eyes. She’d been so busy daydreaming that she hadn’t realised the sky was as black as coal. Grabbing her deck chair, she ran inside. As she was about to put the kettle on, she heard the doorbell. Her family, all bar Tommy, had keys, so she guessed it was either Sarn or Brenda.

The sight of the two Old Bill was the last thing she was expecting.

‘Are you Mrs Maureen Hutton?’

She nodded.

‘Do you mind if we come in?’ they asked, removing their hats.

With her heart in her mouth, she led them into the living room. It had to be to do with her Tommy, it couldn’t be anything else.

‘You might want to sit down, Mrs Hutton.’

Heart beating like a drum, Maureen flopped onto the chair. She knew it was serious by the look on their faces.

‘What’s my Tommy done now? Has he been arrested?’

The male officer did the talking. He told her his name, but she was in such a state that she couldn’t even remember it.

‘I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Mrs Hutton. Your husband, Thomas, has been found dead at his home address in Whitechapel. We don’t think that there were any suspicious circumstances, but unfortunately his body is rather decomposed. It seems he may have been dead for quite a while, so it may take some time to conclude the postmortem.’

Maureen nodded. Part of her felt relieved and part of her guilty. The relief was that it wasn’t Tommy Jnr and the guilt was because she was glad it was her husband.

She turned to the coppers. ‘Although we were still legally married, we’d been separated for years.’

The female officer stood up. ‘Would you like me to get you a glass of water or a hot drink, Mrs Hutton?’

Maureen nodded, ‘A cup of tea would be nice, dear.’

Shrugging her shoulders, Maureen smiled at the policeman. ‘You probably think I’m weird, or wondering why I ain’t crying, but truth is I ain’t had nothing to do with him for years. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t wish this on him, but he was a terrible husband and an even worse father.’

The officer smiled compassionately. This type of reaction was common in this neck of the woods. The women in Stepney were as tough as old boots.

‘I understand,’ he said sympathetically.

Maureen sipped her tea in a daze. She hadn’t given a thought to poor old Ethel and didn’t have a clue how to tell her the news. Like herself, Ethel had sod all to do with Tommy, but he was still her bloody son.

‘His mum lives opposite me. Shall I go and get her?’ Maureen asked.

‘You’re still in shock. Why don’t I give her a knock?’ the policewoman said, moving towards the door.

‘No,’ Maureen shouted. Ethel had a flat full of hooky gear, and would have a heart attack to see uniformed police standing at the door.

‘I’ll ring her and get her to come over,’ she said.

Ethel arrived shortly after, with Glad in tow.

‘Sit down, Mum,’ Maureen urged.

Ethel eyed the Old Bill suspiciously. She had no time for the filth whatsoever.

‘Tommy senior’s dead, Mum. They found him in his bedsit in Whitechapel.’

Ethel wasn’t good at showing her feelings. Her life had been too bloody hard for that. Not knowing how to react, she shrugged her shoulders.

‘I can’t say I’m shocked. He’s been an accident waiting to happen for years.’

The two officers glanced at one another. The women of Stepney strike again, they both thought.

Gladys started to cry. ‘Have you seen my Sooty?’ she asked.

The police looked at her in amazement. Who the fuck was Sooty?

Seeing their puzzled expressions, Maureen couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Take no notice, it’s her cat,’ she explained.

The male officer stood up and urged his colleague to do the same. He had to get out of this nuthouse as quickly as possible. He couldn’t believe the reaction they’d got to the poor man’s death. The mother had shrugged, the wife was laughing, and the other old bird was more worried about the cat.

Maureen said goodbye to the coppers and shut the door. Taking a deep breath, she went into the kitchen and poured three large brandies.

‘’Ere, drink this,’ she said, handing a glass to both Ethel and Glad.

Sipping her own, she thought of her children. Whatever Tommy had been, he was still their dad.

‘I suppose I’d better ring the kids, get ’em to come round later.’

Ethel nodded. ‘Kenny’s working away in Birmingham. I’d better ring him and tell him what’s happened.

Maureen got in touch with James at the shop. She didn’t tell him what had happened, just told him to come straight home after work. She then got in touch with Susan and told her to come round at six. Tommy was the hardest to get hold of: she rang a few pubs he drank in, but couldn’t track him down. As luck would have it, he popped into the shop to see James, who told him to come home.

Susan was the first to arrive, ‘This better be important, Mum. I feel terrible.’

Maureen sat her down and made her a cup of tea. She wanted to tell the kids together, not separately.

James and Tommy arrived shortly after. Sitting all three of them on the sofa, Maureen sat in the armchair opposite.

‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. The police turned up earlier. Your dad’s been found dead.’

James’s lip began to wobble and as Susan burst into tears, he hugged her. Tommy showed no emotion whatsoever.

‘Go and get ’em a brandy, Mum,’ Maureen told Ethel.

James managed to pull himself together, but Susan couldn’t stop sobbing. Seeing as she’d never been close to her father, or even liked the poor bastard, Maureen guessed it was just her hormones playing up.

The doorbell rang and she went to answer it. Seeing Kenny standing there was a shock, because she knew he’d been working away.

‘I got here as soon as I could,’ he said kindly.

‘Go and see your mum, Ken, she’s in there. I’ll get you a brandy, love.’

As Kenny hugged Ethel, her eyes welled up. ‘I’m OK – go and sit down,’ she urged him as she fought to stop her tears.

Hearing his sister wailing, Tommy looked at her in contempt. ‘For fuck’s sake, Susan, get a grip, will yer? You didn’t even like him, and yer ain’t seen the tosser for years, have yer?’

Maureen stuck up for her. ‘Leave her alone Tommy, she’s pregnant.’

Tommy stood up. ‘I ain’t sittin’ here listening to his shit. Everyone’s got their fuckin’ head in the clouds. Let’s be honest, shall we? None of us wanted him dead, but none of us will miss him. He was a shit husband and a crap father, he was a loser and a drunk, so why are we all sittin’ here fuckin’ mourning him?’

No one replied. Tommy might be callous, but everyone knew he was telling the truth.

He turned to James. ‘You coming out for a beer, Jimmy boy?’

James stood up, ‘I could do with a pint, I’ll just knock next door and let Maria know what’s happening.’

As the boys left, Kevin arrived. He’d taken on a bit of private work, and had been busy all day painting some old dear’s khazi. ‘Are you all right, Suze?’ he asked, hugging her.

‘My dad’s dead,’ she wailed.

Maureen, Ethel and Kenny all glanced at one another. She was definitely overdoing the dramatics.

‘How much is that doggy in the window? The one with the waggly tail.’

Everyone looked at Gladys in amazement. She picked her times and places, bless her. Maureen was the first to burst out laughing and soon everyone joined in. Even drama queen Susan was unable to keep a straight face.

Seeing Tibbsy, Benno and Dave Taylor walk in, Tommy’s stomach lurched. ‘This is all we fuckin’ need,’ he muttered to James.

‘All right Tommo? All right Jimmy boy?’ Benno said.

Tommy looked at his old mates as though they were something bad he’d trodden in. Not only were they drunks and druggies but, if you listened to the grapevine, they’d also got into burglary and had mugged a couple of old ladies. Tonight, of all nights, Tommy really couldn’t be doing with them.

‘Look, lads, I hope yer don’t mind, but I just wanna have a quiet drink with me bruvver. We’ve just found out that me old man’s dead and we’ve got shit to sort out and stuff.’

Tibbsy grinned like a Cheshire cat. ‘I saw your old man a couple of months ago. He was propped up in the corner of the Blind Beggar. He’d pissed and shit himself, the dirty bastard, and everyone was cracking up.’

As Benno and Dave Taylor burst out laughing, Tommy saw red. Grabbing Tibbsy by the neck, he shoved him up against the wall.

‘See you, yer mug. Don’t you ever, ever, disrespect me or my family again.’

Knowing he’d said the wrong thing, Tibbsy tried to turn his comments around. ‘I’m sorry, Tommo. I didn’t think you liked your old man. I would never disrespect you, you know that.’

Silencing him with a knee in the bollocks and a head butt, Tommy watched him slump to the ground.

‘Whether I liked him or not is none of your business. He was my dad and if anyone’s gonna slag him off, it’ll be me.’

Seeing Tibbsy crumpled up in pain, Tommy snorted and spat on him. Turning around, he nodded to his brother.

‘Come on Jimmy, we’re out of ’ere.’