He started grabbing at her then, trying to pull her hair and punch her face. She put her glass down quickly and, smacking him once more across the head, she threw him away from her. 'Fuck off, you mad bastard, before I fucking knock you out.'

He lay on the floor then, screaming and swearing at her. She picked her drink up again and took a deep swallow. The tirade would soon reach a crescendo, then he would just lie there and swear at her until she hit him again. Jackie sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. He was like an animal, and she knew it was her fault.

When he had first done it they had all laughed. He had been eighteen months old and he had attacked poor old Kimberley because she had told him off, and his language had been ripe. They had all sat stunned for a few minutes and then started rolling up. The words coming out of his mouth, and his dear little face while he said them, had been so outrageous they had roared. Then the girls had told him to repeat it, because it was so funny, and it had caused them all to crack up again. Little Freddie had soon sussed out that it was an attention-getting device and before they knew it his whole speech was peppered with effing and blinding.

It had set the tone for him and now at nearly eight it was his main vocabulary. He had been ejected from two playschools because of it. Now the school was refusing to take him back again, but that was also because he attacked anyone in his radius if they did not let him do exactly what he wanted.

It had brought the social workers into their life and she could knock him out because of that alone. If that Mrs Acton mentioned her drinking one more time she would scream. Fucking social workers, if she had that mad little cunt all day and night she would have a bastard drink herself! And Jackie had told her that in those very words, enjoying the woman's shock at her turn of phrase and feeling as if she had finally scored a point.

But he was out of control, there was no doubt about that, and as the only person he was even remotely civil to was his father, he would stay that way until Freddie came home regularly and took him in hand once and for all.

Fat chance of that ever happening.

Jackie sighed and then poured the dregs from the bottle of cheap vodka into the glass. He was still swearing and calling her names, but she ignored him as best she could, just saying, 'Get your coat on, and I'll call the cab.'

Maggie had been cooking all morning, and the smells coming from her kitchen were driving everyone mad. Lena and Joseph were already there, all spruced up and filled with pride at the lovely home their youngest daughter had created around her.

She and Jimmy had moved into this place a few months earlier. According to Lena, it was a brand-new, large, detached, four-bedroom mock-Tudor mansion, with a huge garden and en-suite bathrooms. Lena never stopped going on about it to anyone who would listen. Her pride in her daughter knew no bounds.

It was a nice place, but for Jimmy and Maggie it was just another stepping stone. Unlike Freddie, Jimmy had taken Ozzy's advice and he had invested in property. It was the best thing he had ever done in his life. He bought early, waited and then they moved on again, with their tidy little profit ploughed back into a new house that was always a bigger and better place for them to live.

This was their first brand-new home, though, and as much as they loved it, they missed the character of their last place. But they had bought that for a song. A builder friend had owed Jimmy a big favour and this was his way of paying him back. They'd done it up and then sold it because it was too good an opportunity to miss.

They would have the character house once again, only bigger and better next time. This place would do for another couple of years. It had a big garden which wasn't overlooked, and they had the kitchen and bathrooms of their dreams.

Maggie looked up at Jimmy as he walked into the large kitchen to refill his father-in-law's glass.

'All right, babe?' he said.

She nodded. ''Course I am. Are Paul and Liselle here yet? I heard a car pull up.'

Jimmy walked out into the big entrance hall. A few seconds later, he saw them coming through the front door, and waved them into the kitchen.

Liselle looked around in admiration. 'This place is lovely. I wish you well in it.'

Maggie kissed her on the cheek. 'Take your coat off, mate. We're lucky with the weather, anyway.'

Jackie's girls were all laughing and joking in the front room, putting on music, and Maggie smiled as she heard an old soul tape going on. The girls loved all the old songs, thank God. As Sam and Dave blared out of the sound system, she walked through to the garden and was grateful to finally have a sip of her white wine.

Maddie was sitting quietly on a garden chair. She was always invited, and she always sat by herself, smiling, but rarely joining in. Her husband's death had hit her hard and Maggie always remembered the awful feeling on her wedding day when the news had been blurted out by Freddie.

His father had lain in the bath and slashed his wrists, and the thought of it still made her blood run cold.

It had been such a traumatic thing for them all to have to deal with on such a happy day. Freddie had found him, and had not wanted to ruin the wedding. He had waited until the body had been taken away and the bathroom cleaned up, so his poor mother had not had to face that on top of everything else.

Maggie knew that Jimmy, like her, felt awful for the way they had assumed Freddie had just blanked them. She pushed the thought from her mind and went over to where poor Maddie sat on a garden chair.

She sat beside her and chatted for a while, but she knew the woman was waiting for her son, and if he arrived it would make her day. If he didn't then she would go home and sit alone and wait for him there. At least he took care of her. Maggie couldn't take that away from him.

'I wish you would just listen to me sometimes, Freddie. I knew they were fucking ice creams.' Pat's voice was heavy with annoyance because she knew Freddie was still not listening to her.

The South London warehouse they were standing in was full of snide. Though Jekyll and Hyde was the proper term for all the goods stacked around them, it had been shortened to Jekyll or snide. The warehouse was chock-full of snide booty and swag. A lot of videos, most not yet on general release. Disney videos were where their money really lay. Disney only brought their films out every seven years, so there was always a new market for them. One year it might be Bambi, another year Dumbo, but the main thing was, once the film was released it would not be brought out again for a long while. This worked to their advantage since all they needed were a couple of master tapes and they were off. They could knock them out for a couple of quid and the one-parent families could treat the kids and buy a carton of fags, and still be quids in, as opposed to going to Woolworths and paying what they termed the full bifta.

There was also plenty of hardcore porn, otherwise known as old Bluey. They made fortunes from that too. It was easy to bring it in from Denmark and Sweden, where you could watch what the fuck you liked without having to justify your shagging preferences to anyone but your old woman.

Then there were knocked-off Fila tracksuits, run up in Korea and shipped over for the benefit of the unemployed and anyone who used a local market. The designer stuff was worth a lot of money, and it caused a lot of aggravation because there was so much competition around trying to flog it off.

'How long did they say they would be?' Patricia tapped her foot in annoyance, and Freddie checked his gold Rolex. It was definitely not a Jekyll nowadays. Patricia had seen it before and knew it sweeped not ticked, but they had boxes full of snide watches for the discerning punter. From Rolex to Cartier, it was one of the best scams ever. Everyone suddenly wanted to be a film star, wanted to look worth a few quid, and they were tapping into that market.