to be as rich and famous as Max Baer one day.
It was the only thought that kept him going when life in Griffin Street was really grim.
Their mother finally surfaced just before midday. She drifted into the living room, her woollen dressing gown pulled tight around her thin body. Nick could smell the stale booze on her from the other side of the room.
‘H-happy Christmas, Mum.’ Nick watched Danny rush to greet her, winding his skinny arms around her neck and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. He wished he could be so forgiving.
‘Happy Christmas, son.’ She and Nick shot each other resentful looks across the room. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ she asked.
‘That’s about all there is.’ Nick filled the kettle under the tap. ‘There’s no food, that’s for sure.’
His mother pulled a packet of Woodbines out of the pocket of her dressing gown. ‘Here we go,’ she sighed, lighting one with an unsteady hand. ‘Your brother never misses a chance to have a go at his poor old mum, does he?’ she said to Danny. ‘Even on Christmas Day, he can’t let it lie.’
‘So you’ve noticed it’s Christmas Day, then?’ Nick lit the gas. ‘I wasn’t sure, since we’ve got nothing to show for it in the house. Unless you’ve got a chicken and a load of sprouts hidden away somewhere?’
June Riley narrowed her eyes at him through the curling plume of cigarette smoke. She had been pretty once, but drink and resentment had etched deep lines in her face. ‘Maybe there would be, if you gave me a bit more money?’
‘What, so you can go and spend it all down the Rose and Crown? You’d have enough money if you didn’t drink it all away.’ He turned to face her. ‘I s’pose there’s no point in asking where you were last night?’
‘I’m entitled to a life, aren’t I? They’d banned slavery last time I looked.’
‘It wouldn’t hurt you to do a bit of slaving once in a while. Have you seen the state of this place?’
June rolled her eyes at Danny. ‘Your brother’s giving me earache again, Danny boy. When’s he going to change the record, eh?’
‘I’ll change it when you start listening to me.’ Nick sat across the kitchen table from her, forcing her to look at him. ‘Look, I don’t care where you go, or what you do. You can go to hell for all I care. It’s Danny I worry about. You know I don’t like him being left on his own. Anything could have happened to him.’
‘It didn’t though, did it?’
‘No thanks to you. You know what he’s like.’ Nick lowered his voice. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that he could have wandered off and ended up in the river, or under a tram?’
June turned her head slowly to look at him, her red-rimmed eyes mournful. A thin stream of cigarette smoke escaped from one corner of her mouth. ‘Might be a blessed relief if he did,’ she muttered.
Her words hit Nick like a punch in the stomach. ‘You wicked cow!’
‘Wicked, am I? Look at the poor little sod.’ She glanced at Danny, who sat at her feet, looking up at her with adoring eyes like a spaniel. ‘He doesn’t understand half of what we’re saying. What kind of life is that for him? Who’s going to look after him for the rest of his days?’
Not you, that’s for sure, Nick thought.
‘You don’t know how hard it is for me.’ There was a catch in his mother’s voice as she turned her face away. ‘Four years I’ve had to struggle on my own.’
‘You, struggle? Don’t make me laugh! You haven’t been on your own, have you? You’ve had us. Except you’ve never given Danny and me a thought in all that time.’
Nick watched her fish in the pocket of her dressing gown for a handkerchief, unmoved by her self-pity. It was the same every time she’d had a drink.
Danny rushed to comfort his mother, clumsily trying to dry her tears with his sleeve. ‘L-leave her alone, Nick,’ he begged.
‘You wouldn’t say these things to me if your father was here,’ she wept.
‘Well, he’s not here, is he?’ Nick said.
‘Because you drove him away. You sent away the only man I ever loved!’
‘And do you know what? I’d do it again tomorrow.’
‘That’s your father you’re talking about. You should show some respect.’
‘Did he show us any respect when he blacked your eyes and cracked my ribs or—’ Nick broke off. He couldn’t