Lena rocked her daughter and tried to whisper the loving words that all mothers used to placate their offspring. Finally, after what seemed an age, Maggie began to calm down, but she still remained with her face buried in her mother's brand-new Marks and Spencer twinset.

'What on earth is wrong? Tell me, love, tell your old mum.'

Maggie was still sobbing, shuddering as if she was cold, even though she was calmer.

'Were you burgled, my love? Did someone break in?'

'No! Don't be silly, Mum.'

Maggie's voice was hard, and Lena was taken aback at the tone of it.

'I just lost me keys, that's all. For fuck's sake, Mum, give it a rest, will you?'

Lena swallowed down her retort. The so-called lost keys were on the hall table, she had seen them as she had come in. Maggie had a distinctive, heavy brass key ring that, on close inspection, spelled her name.

Lena kept her own counsel and made the tea. She knew that once her daughter was ready she would get some kind of explanation. She hoped it wasn't to do with Jimmy, then she dismissed the thought out of hand. Whatever this was, it would not be about him. They were sound as a pound. No, this was something completely different. Maggie looked like shit, and Lena decided that if she had a bad head then maybe that was the cause of her upset. She had had a migraine once, years before and she had never wanted to repeat the experience.

But why the change of the locks? If she had anything happen she would get Lily Law. No reason not to – they were all legal. Not a nicked thing in the house, they were far too shrewd for that.

Lena was nonplussed, but she was also sensible enough not to pry just yet. Maggie was still upset and needed to calm herself down. But this frightened her, this was so out of character for her daughter, and she hoped it was not something too awful, something that could not be rectified.

The only person who could make her daughter feel like this was Jimmy, but he would never hurt her in any way, of that much she was sure.

She sighed deeply, then lit another of her endless cigarettes.

Well, as her old nana would say, it would all come out in the wash.

Jackie was looking at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had just had a bath, and she knew that the bath was long overdue.

The drinking stopped her from doing the everyday things, but by the same token she had always been lazy. When her husband had gone away she had lost interest in herself, and she had drunk to blot out her struggle with the children and her struggle with her loneliness. Freddie had never understood that, he had been surrounded by people in the same boat, while she had been too frightened to go to the pub, talk to a man or be seen in any situation which could be misconstrued. Her world had gradually imploded and her best friend had become her drinking partner. Her best friend was vodka when she was flush, wine and cider when she wasn't.

She closed her eyes and savoured her drink once more. It gave her a lift, even more than the pills, although the Valium she also took on a regular basis always ironed out the little wrinkles in her life. It smoothed the edges, made life that bit more bearable.

She had soaked herself for ages, knowing the grime in her toes would take time to dissipate. She had decided that she was going to start looking after herself, and so at eleven thirty in the morning she was sipping white wine mixed with vodka and attempting to put on eye shadow and lipstick.

She could hear the girls whispering in their room. They were laughing, really laughing and the noise was grating on her brain. She had a sneaky feeling they were laughing at her.

'Stop pissing about, for fuck's sake, and go out!'

She could hear the high-pitched anger in her own voice and she hated herself for it.

They were good kids really, she knew they were. She also knew they spent their time living down her drinking, and her fighting. She popped another little yellow pill and swallowed it dry.

The laughter had stopped and the music went on. Even the noise of the Spice Girls was preferable to their skitting and laughing, which always made her feel paranoid, as if they were mocking her. She knew they most probably were. Shouts of 'happy birthday' had been rife earlier when she had got in the bath, which had not helped with her bad humour at all.

Kimberley strolled in a little while later. 'You look nice, Mum, where you going?'

The fact she assumed she was going somewhere depressed Jackie even more. Was this how bad things had got? She looked at her daughter. Kim was turning into a lovely girl and she was poking out in all the right places. They all were, and her jealousy knew no bounds. 'Who are you, the fucking police?'

As she looked into her daughter's eyes she saw the girl's confusion, saw the wonderment at seeing her mother tidy and in make-up when she would normally still be in bed shouting her orders in a raspy voice as she coughed up the cigarettes and vodka from the day before.

'I only asked!'

'Well, fucking don't. Do I have to have a reason to get meself tidied up, then? Is it such a fucking big deal in this house if I decide to look nice?'

Jackie wanted to shut up, but she couldn't. She always had to justify herself to these young people who were watching her, judging her and finding her sadly lacking as a mother, a person, and as a human being.

'Well, shoot me for asking a question, why don't you.'

She flounced off in a temper, and Jackie swallowed down the urge to call her back, to hug her. They hated being hugged by her, and she knew it was because she stank of drink, of despair, and worst of all she stank of hopelessness. Her world had imploded a long time ago, and now she was waiting for it to explode, for Freddie to finally leave her. When that happened she knew it would be the end for her.

Freddie had frightened her the night before. The faceless women she could cope with, but her own sister? Her Maggie, who was probably the only person she had ever trusted around her husband. Because she had never been able to trust him with anyone else, but she had trusted her sister. She had known that no matter what he might want Maggie would not do that to her, but now she was not so sure.

And Maggie was not only young, she was beautiful. She was stunning, and she took great care of herself. At times the envy Jackie had felt towards her had been almost visceral, and she had felt great dismay about her youthful body, and her tight skin.

But Maggie wouldn't touch him with a strangers, would she? The thing was, Jackie wasn't sure any more. Her self-esteem was on the floor, her life was in the toilet and her head was all over the place. She was a mess.

When Freddie wanted something he went all out to get it, and no one knew just how charming he could be when the fancy took him. He would go on an all-out assault, and Maggie would not know what hit her. Jimmy was her world, but if there was trouble between them she knew Freddie would use that to inveigle his way in there. He would see it as a laugh, think it was funny to sleep with Jimmy's wife. Freddie saw all women as fair game and he saw all their men as mugs who were finally shown the true colours of the women they professed to love.

But Maggie? Maggie and Jimmy were set like a jelly, and anyway, Maggie was too shrewd, far too shrewd, surely? Maggie had at least a modicum of loyalty, she was sure of that much.

Or was she?

She knew about that Patricia, knew all about their so-called affair, knew that it was more on his side than hers. Now the Patricias she could cope with, because they was going nowhere. He was great in the kip, but even Jackie knew he was a type and most women did not want his type for any length of time. He was dangerous, he was a fucker, but at the end of the day he was generally hers. The Patricias would finally send him home with his tail between his legs when he stepped over their imaginary line, and then she picked up the pieces.