‘What’s the matter with you?’ her mum asked her earlier.
‘Nothing,’ Jessica lied. Her dad wasn’t at home and she’d rather kill two birds with one stone than tell them separately.
Hearing the front door slam shut, Jessica chucked on some clothes and wandered downstairs.
‘Any chance of a quick word with both of you?’ she asked sheepishly.
Joyce and Stanley followed her into the living room.
‘Sit down,’ Jessica urged.
Stan said a silent prayer. Something was wrong and with a bit of luck Mr Fucking Charming Bollocks had kicked her into touch.
‘What’s up, love?’ he asked hopefully.
Jessica felt too embarrassed to look them in the eye, so she focused on the carpet.
‘Please don’t have a go at me, but I found out today that I’m pregnant. I’m really sorry if I’ve let you both down.’
Joyce hugged her daughter. The timing wasn’t perfect but, nevertheless, she was thrilled. She’d always fancied being a young grandma. She could barely wait to get dolled up and go out walking with the pram. As for babysitting, she would look after the child as much as Jess would allow her.
‘I’m so pleased for you, darling. Now, don’t you worry about being young and not being able to cope. Your old mum will teach you the ropes and I’ll be there for you as much as possible. Perhaps Eddie will buy you a house nearby, so I’m always on hand to help out and babysit.’
Stanley sat paralysed in the armchair. He’d had so many high hopes for his beautiful daughter and now she was up the spout by that Mitchell bastard.
‘Are you OK, Dad?’ Jessica asked him.
Stan nodded and looked the other way. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his eyes.
‘What about the wedding? Will you bring it forward or get married after the baby’s born?’ Joyce asked.
Jessica shrugged. ‘I’ll speak to Eddie tonight. He doesn’t even know that I’m pregnant yet. I don’t really want a baby out of wedlock, so the sooner we tie the knot, the better. I’d rather do it before I start showing.’
Joyce nodded. She could understand where Jess was coming from. Walking down the aisle with a stomach like a rugby ball never looked good on anyone. She squeezed her daughter’s hand.
‘Whatever you and Eddie decide, me and your dad are right behind you, aren’t we, Stanley?’
Stan said nothing. The quicker he got out of this bleeding nuthouse the better.
‘Stanley, what do you think you’re doing? Where you going?’ Joyce shouted.
Ignoring his wife, Stan put on his checked cap and slammed the front door.
Eddie ordered another drink and glanced at his watch. His bloody father was late and he was doing buttons to know what had happened.
Five minutes later, a beaming Harry Mitchell strolled into the pub.
‘Well, what’s occurring?’ Eddie asked him.
Ushering his son over to an empty corner of the pub, Harry sat opposite him. ‘They’ve gone.’
Eddie shook his head, ‘Who you on about? Who’s fucking gone?’
Harry started laughing. ‘The O’Haras. They’ve moved away, the whole lot of ’em. They’ve gone to Essex, by all accounts. Butch sent a message to me yesterday, via Ginger Mick. He told him to tell me that there won’t be any repercussions and he wants an end to the feud for good. Ginger Mick said the old cunt was petrified and he can barely fucking walk. Yesterday they went – the site’s completely fucking empty. Packed up their stuff and did a moonlight flit, apparently.’
Eddie couldn’t stop smiling. He would never have to see Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly boat race ever again.
‘Bring us over a bottle of champagne, Betsy,’ he ordered the barmaid.
Eddie shook his old man’s hand. ‘You know what this means, don’t you? We can take over the Stratford boozers. I can’t wait for us to bowl into the Chobham and demand money off that pikey-loving cunt of a guv’nor. I think we should stick the price up in there, charge him more than we charge anyone else.’
Harry laughed. ‘My sentiments exactly. Apparently, they had seven boozers in Stratford on their payroll, all told. In the next couple of days we’ll pay all of ’em a visit, get our foot in the door.’
Eddie sipped his drink. ‘Are you sure that Ginger Mick can be trusted?’
Harry nodded. ‘I’ve had him on me payroll since he was a young ’un. Safe as houses, he is. The O’Haras thought he was their Joey – what they didn’t know was that I set it all up. We needed a spy in the camp, and Ginger Mick was perfect.’
Reg, Paulie and Ronny’s arrival spelled the start of a glorified piss-up. Champagne corks went flying and there were pats on the back and handshakes all around.
‘Come and join us, John,’ Harry urged the guv’nor.
Ronny started the singalong and the rest of the lads joined in: ‘When the inbred O’Haras go run, run, a-running along, shoot the bastards, shoot the bastards, shoot, shoot, shoot the bastards.’
‘What yous lot celebrating? Ain’t won the bleedin’ football pools, have yer?’ Betsy asked, as she brought over yet another two bottles of champagne.
‘We’re celebrating being the kings of the East End,’ Ronny shouted, grabbing her large backside.
‘Keep yer dirty fucking hands to yerself, Ronny Mitchell,’ Betsy said, laughing.
The raucous behaviour, jokes and songs continued for hours and, three sheets to the wind, Eddie completely lost track of time. ‘Shit, I was meant to pick Jess up at seven,’ he said, leaping out of his chair.
‘Fuck her off, stay out with us tonight,’ Ronny said.
‘Yeah, let’s go to a club and celebrate properly,’ Paulie suggested.
Eddie shook his head. He was a gentleman and would never let Jess down at short notice. Realising he was in no fit state to drive, he asked John the guv’nor to call him a cab.
Five minutes later, he heard a bib outside and said his goodbyes.
‘All of us will meet in here tomorrow at two o’clock. Then we can pay a nice friendly visit to the Chobham and the rest of them boozers in Stratford,’ his father told him.
Eddie jumped into the cab and urged the driver to put his foot down.
Jessica, who had been standing looking out of the window for an hour, felt relief surge through her as Eddie got out of the cab. She ran to the front door.
‘There you are.’
Eddie was full of apologies, ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, babe. Something cropped up. It won’t happen again, I promise.’
‘I was so worried, I thought you’d had an accident or something,’ Jessica said.
Eddie held her close and stroked her hair. ‘I got stuck with some business, you know how it is.’
‘Where’s your car?’ Jessica asked.
Eddie was saved from answering by Joyce’s intervention.
‘Would you like a beer, Eddie? Or a cup of tea and fruit cake?’
Eddie shook his head. ‘The cab’s waiting outside. I’m gonna take Jess out for a nice meal. Another time, eh, Joycie?’
Joyce could