'You need anything else done today, Mrs Jackson?'

Lily Small had been cleaning Maggie's house for five years, and she felt that they had a rapport. She came in five times a week and she cleaned the place from top to bottom, and she had sussed out ages ago that Mr Jackson had left his wife.

Mrs Jackson was putting a good face on it all, but Lily had seen the weight drop off her and the frown lines appear as if by magic. Losing that lovely little boy was hard enough, and maybe the strain had been too much for them. She could understand that, it was still too raw even for her, so God knew how this poor cow must be feeling.

She would give her eye teeth to know what Mr Jackson had done, if he had done anything of course, but trying to get anything out of this woman was impossible. She was tighter than a duck's arse that had been superglued.

'Can I iron Mr Jackson's shirts?'

Maggie smiled then. She gave old Lily points for perseverance anyway. She could make Mo Slater look like a deaf mute, but before assassinating her nearest relatives or her neighbours, people whom Maggie had never met nor would want to, Lily would puff up her ample chest, pull on her cigarette and say the magic words that had made both Maggie and Jimmy roar with laughter once she had left the premises: 'I am not one to gossip as you both know, but…'

Now, as she stood there trying to glean even a smidgeon of information on her employers' predicament, she repeated her question, eyebrows raised and cigarette hovering near her orange-painted mouth. 'Well, shall I iron Mr Jackson's shirts? I know just how he likes them.'

'If you like, Lily.'

Maggie knew she was annoying the poor woman but it was the principle of it all. Her life was hers, and she had no intention of gossiping with anyone, let alone Lily, whose lips, Jimmy used to joke, were looser than a Scandinavian whore's. Even her poor mother had given up trying to find out what was wrong, so Lily had no chance.

Maggie understood what Jimmy had meant now. If she didn't tell anyone then it had not happened. If he came back, no one would know anything and they could just get on as normal. He was right, sometimes things were best left unsaid, it made it easier to live with them somehow.

She poured herself a cup of tea and took it through to the conservatory. She had piles of paperwork to get done and now was as good a time as any. The salons were all doing well, extremely well in fact, and this knowledge didn't have the normal effect on her. Instead of a quiet pride, she had no real interest in anything. Every day he was away from her, she died a little bit more inside.

She had not heard one word from him, and she had not attempted to contact him either. Money was still piling up in the bank so she just carried on as usual, but the loneliness was getting to her, and no matter how tired she felt, as soon as she got into bed, her brain went into overdrive and she relived two separate days of her life, over and over again.

Her son's death, and the absolute grinding grief that it caused, and the day her Jimmy had walked out on her.

She imagined how she should have played it, reminded herself that if she had only kept up the pretence as she had until then, he would still be with her. They were both grieving for their child, and she should have left it all until they were feeling stronger emotionally. Until they could walk into his little room without breaking down, until the raw pain had eased.

For the first time in her life, she understood her sister's jealousy of other women. She tortured herself with visions of him making love to another woman. Loving them, as he had once loved her.

She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and she couldn't rest.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

'Come on, Mum, eat something.'

Kimberley was looking at Jackie with that worried frown she had come to love. She was a good girl, her Kim, and she had not been as good a mother as she could have been. That bothered her these days, and she tried to be nice to them all, nicer than usual.

Since Freddie's death, the girls had been like proper troopers, they had really taken good care of her and their little brother. She was amazed at how well they had turned out.

She knew in her heart that it was Maggie's influence that had helped her girls become what they were, but she didn't feel the usual anger or the jealousy about that. She no longer felt as if she was being compared to everyone, and she didn't feel the pressure of her failings either.

Now, she had made her mind up. She had made decisions and she had been pleased with herself for finally taking control of her life.

'It was a lovely service, weren't it, Mum?'

'It was lovely, darling, and you were all lovely as well.'

Dianna's face was gorgeous, she was a real little sweetie. Even Kim had never looked better. And Rox was getting a nice little lump and, unlike herself, she was making sure her body was not going to be blown out of all recognition, she was taking care of herself. Rox wouldn't hear the man of her dreams, her child's father, saying, 'Fuck me, girl, you look like something from a Hammer horror!' Her girls, they were like film stars, and Jackie only wished now that she had taken up Maggie's offers of beauty treatments and slimming consultations years ago. But even her sister's offering of them had felt like criticism, and so she had not gone. She had cut her own nose off, and now her face was well and truly spited! She wanted to laugh at her own thoughts, but she knew she mustn't.

Once this day was over, she would finally be able to sleep, a real deep and comfortable sleep like she had experienced as a child, she was sure of that. It was what she needed and she knew it would do her the power of good, because in her dreams Freddie was back with her, and they were happy. They were deliriously happy, and she was slim, and didn't drink, and he had eyes for no one but her.

That was why she wanted to get the sleep back. She needed those dreams to help her heal.

As she smiled at her son he nodded at her, and she watched as he left the house. He would be missing his dad. He had loved him so much, unlike his feelings for her. She was painfully aware that the child had never liked her and, if she was honest, she didn't really like him that much either.

Freddie Jackson Junior was walking to a friend's house when he saw two of his little neighbours walking on the pavement opposite. He hated Martin Collins. He was eleven years old and small for his age, but he had a way with him that made him popular with everyone. His brother Justin looked after him, and Freddie was interested to see how far he was willing to go to achieve that end.

Little Freddie crossed over the road and caught up with them. Martin Collins looked at him warily.

'All right?'

Martin nodded cautiously. 'Yeah, you?'

Little Freddie grinned. 'Got any money?'

Justin Collins was nervous. He was older than Freddie Jackson, but he was not as big and he was not as aggressive.

Martin shook his head. 'No, I ain't got any money, Freddie.'

Freddie stared at the boy for long calculated moments before he drew out a long, thin-bladed knife. He watched in glee as the two boys stepped back in fright, and when Justin pushed his little brother behind him he laughed. 'Looking after the wimp, are you?'

'Leave him alone. I mean it, Jackson, go and pick on someone your own age.'

'And if I don't, what are you going to do about it?'

Cars were flying past them and the smell of diesel was thick in the air.

An old man was watching the little tableau from his flat window. He was deciding if he should call the police when the bigger boy, that Jackson lad whose father had been murdered, stabbed the blond boy in the heart.