Debbie giggled. He was a funny bastard, her husband, and never failed to make her laugh. 'I'd run off with any bastard, foreign or English, if it meant getting rid of you, ya tosser,' she joked. 'Go on, sod off. I'm dying to find out what happens in this book and I've only got three chapters left. You take the girls and I'll follow you in a bit.'
Patting her rounded stomach, Steve stood up. 'You make sure you look after me boy for me, won't ya?'
'Steve, I'm pregnant, not a bloody imbecile.'
He kissed her gently. 'Laters, sexy.'
Debbie smiled as she watched him walk away holding a daughter by each hand. The girls looked almost miniature beside his massive physique.
Debbie picked up her book, then put it back down. She fancied thinking rather than reading, and sitting alone on an emptying beach was the perfect place to do so.
Her pregnancy had come as a complete shock to both her and Steve. Adding to their brood certainly hadn't been a priority in their lives. Steve was immediately overjoyed by their little mistake, though. Planned or unplanned, he could hardly wait for another addition to the Roberts clan.
Debbie felt differently and had been full of reservations since the blue line had first appeared on the test. Putting on weight, no alcohol, milk leaking from her tits, these were all of concern to her, but nothing was as worrying as the thought of giving birth to a son. The prospect of that happening filled Debbie with total dread. What if the kid looked like Charlie? What if he behaved like him? What if he tried to rape his cousin or nonce his fucking sister? She had done her best to keep her thoughts well and truly hidden. Not once had she mentioned abortion, although many times she'd wanted to, and she'd spent the first few months of her pregnancy smiling falsely while praying for a girl.
Two weeks ago she'd learned that her prayers had not been answered. Her five-month scan saw her leave the hospital clutching a picture of her unborn with the definite outline of a willy. Steve had been absolutely overjoyed by the news. Debbie was inwardly horrified.
Hence the holiday. Steve, being a big softie, had sensed his wife's unease and hoped two weeks in the sun might help her to get her head together.
As the beach ball landed at her feet, it interrupted Debbie's thoughts. Glancing around, she saw a little blond boy running towards her.
'I'm really sorry, Missus,' he said in a cute Geordie accent. 'My name's Sonny. What's yours?' he asked cheekily as he flashed her a toothy grin.
'Hello, Sonny. I'm Debbie. Where's your mum, love?'
'Over there,' he replied, pointing to a large woman in a striped swimsuit.
Seeing his mother wave and give her a friendly smile, Debbie carried on chatting to the lad.
'I'm gonna be a famous footballer one day and play for Newcastle and England,' he told her confidently.
Debbie smiled as he plonked himself down in the sand next to her. 'Are you gonna be the next David Beckham?'
He shook his head. 'No. I'm the next Gazza!'
Chatting to him, Debbie took in his freckles and cute turned up nose, and felt a slight maternal stirring. He was charming, friendly and gorgeous. Sonny was such an appropriate name for him. His smile seemed to light up the beach.
'I'm so sorry. He's not being a nuisance, is he? He doesn't stop bloody talking,' Sonny's mother said ten minutes later when she arrived to retrieve her son.
'No, far from it. He's wonderful company. You must be very proud of him.'
'Oh, I am. I'm Linda by the way,' the other woman replied, pleased by the compliment.
'Nice to meet you. I'm Debbie.'
'When's yours due? And do you know what you're having?'
'A boy,' Debbie replied. 'I've another four months to go. I already have two girls,' she added. Charlie no longer existed as far as she was concerned.
'Oh, how lovely. Your first boy. I bet your husband is over the moon.'
'He is,' Debbie said politely.
'My Sonny is the image of his dad, you know. Looks, personality, he even pulls the same expressions ... two peas in a pod they are. Girls tend to be more like their mums, but boys usually turn out just like their dads.'
Debbie watched mother and son walk away. ''Bye, Sonny,' she shouted.
He turned around. 'You're my friend now. You musn't forget me.'
'I definitely won't forget you in a hurry,' Debbie replied, smiling at his mum who'd also turned round.
Debbie felt a sense of new optimism as she took a slow stroll towards the hotel. She hoped Linda was right and a son's making was all to do with his father's genes. Charlie was a ringer for Billy, that was for sure. Surely her unborn son would turn out to be just like Steve ... On reaching the hotel, she headed straight for the pool area. Her family were easy to find, they were the noisiest by far.
'Mummy, get in!' Gracie screamed.
'Please, Mummy. Daddy keeps tickling us,' Rosie protested.
Steve swam to the edge of the pool. 'Is Mummy getting in? Or does Daddy have to fucking chuck her in?'
Debbie smiled. Finally, she felt ready to enjoy the rest of her holiday.
The traumatic phone call came three weeks before her due date. Debbie swore it was the shock of it which made their son arrive prematurely.
She had heard virtually nothing from or about Charlie since he'd upped and left with his father. He'd rung as promised in the first week, with his bank account details and new mobile number, and Debbie had been more than ready for him.
'I know what you did to your little sister. Unfortunately for you, Gracie has told me everything. Me and you are finished, Charlie. I've stuck my neck out for you for far too long. Now it's over. In my eyes you're dead, son.'
'What am I meant to have done? She's lying, Mum. I swear I ain't done nothing,' Charlie whined as he tried desperately to protest his innocence.
'Don't fucking lie to me!' Debbie screamed at him. 'You and your father deserve one another. Now, do yourself a favour and don't ever contact me again.'
Twice he'd had the audacity to ring back, once begging for money and the second time just to abuse her. Debbie cut him short both times. 'Go to hell, Charlie,' she'd told him on the last occasion.
The day Debbie gave birth to her fourth child started uneventfully. She'd dropped the girls at school, Steve had popped home for lunch, and she was just about to do a bit of ironing when the phone rang.
'Hello,' she said, not recognising the number on the display.
'Debs, it's Billy ... please don't hang up!'
'What the fuck do you want?' she replied coldly.
'It's Charlie. He's in big trouble. They've locked him up and apparently he's in a terrible state. I've been down tae the station, but the police wouldnae let me see him. I havenae got a clue what else tae do, Debs. I really need your help.'
She took a deep breath and asked, 'What has he done, Billy?'
'They're trying to charge him with rape and attempted murder. We need to get him a good brief, Debs, someone top-notch. I'd get one myself but I havenae the money ... '
Debbie dropped the iron. 'I'll call you back in a minute. I need some time to think.'
Shaking, Debbie sank on to the sofa and held her head in her hands. Should she ring Steve? Her mum? She needed advice but didn't have a clue who to turn to. Staring at the living room wall, she noticed the pictures of Gracie in her tap-dancing outfit. As she glanced at the mantel-piece she caught sight of a photo of Lois. She was smiling brightly, with Mickey cuddling her.
'Bastard,' muttered Debbie. 'The evil little bastard.'
Charlie had already nearly ruined the lives of those closest to him and now some other poor girl had borne the brunt of his cruelty. Well, no more. Reaching her decision, she picked up her mobile.
'Billy, it's Debs. I've thought about things and I want you to give Charlie a message from me. Tell him that his mum says she hopes they lock him up and throw away the fucking key!'
Within seconds of ending the call, her waters had broken.
Steve was in the club with Mickey, going through the accounts, when he received a call to say that Debbie had gone into labour.
'I'll drive,' Mickey said awkwardly.
The relationship between Mickey and Debs had never truly repaired itself since the attack on Lois. Barely on speaking terms, they'd lost all the old warmth and love that had once bonded them together.
Debbie's action in sending Charlie away to stop him receiving his comeuppance was unforgivable in Mickey's eyes. He'd never been told exactly what had happened, but guessed that his sister must have packed Damien off, out of harm's way. Steve knew the score, Mickey was sure of that, but they'd been such good pals over the years that Mickey didn't want to spoil their friendship by backing him into a corner. Steve was in an awkward situation and, although Mickey would love to know exactly what had happened to Charlie, in some ways he admired his pal's loyalty. Debs was his wife, after all.
There were only two things that had kept Mickey sane over the past year. One was the thought of his delayed revenge because he knew that one day Charlie would rear his ugly head, and when he did Mickey would be waiting for him. The second was Lois. Thankfully, his daughter was now back to her old self, and seeing the improvement in her pleased him no end.
Dean Summers had been fantastic, a complete rock to her, and Mickey now admired him immensely. The memory of the day he'd turned up at Deano's house with the five hundred quid reward for tracing Kevin would stick in Mickey's mind for a long, long time.
'Leave it out, Mr Dawson. I don't want your money,' Dean protested.
'Take it. You've earned it. And please call me Mickey.'
'Then don't insult me, Mickey,' Dean replied. 'I love Lois and I wanted to help her. Why would I want paying for that?'
Mickey had looked at him in a special light from that day onwards. He'd even given him a little job at the club that didn't interfere with his training, and was in no doubt that one day he'd be honoured to refer to the promising young boxer as his son-in-law.
'I'd better ring June,' Steve said, aware that his brother-in-law was daydreaming.
Cursing the traffic, Mickey swerved to the right. 'You'd better ring Karen as well,' he replied, knowing that his wife was still extremely fond of his sister, even if he wasn't.
His wife was forgiving, unlike himself, and Mickey just hoped that little Alfie, who so far seemed to have his wife's temperament, would turn out to be more like him in the end. Karen was too nice, and he didn't want his boy to be trodden on in life.
The journey to the hospital seemed to take forever. As a frantic Steve rushed through the corridors, he prayed he wasn't too late to witness the arrival of his son. 'I'm the father,' he declared breathlessly when he reached his destination.
Baby boy Roberts was delivered at 6.15 p.m. exactly. A healthy baby, he weighed in at 7lb 2oz. He had a chubby face, a mop of blond hair, and looked very much like his father. With the birth being uncomplicated, Debs was moved to a ward shortly afterwards and Steve wasted no time in inviting the rest of the family to visit and share in their joy.
'Oh, he's gorgeous, Debs,' June gushed, gazing at her new grandson. 'Can I hold him?'
Handing her baby over, Debbie smiled at Peter. 'Do you wanna have a little hold of him?'
'I'd rather not, if you don't mind. Unfortunately I'm not very good with babies.' Peter secretly wondered if she'd given birth to another monster and didn't want to touch the thing, just in case.
'I am so fucking proud of him,' Steve said, peering over June's shoulder.
'He looks just like you, Steve,' Karen cooed as the baby was passed to her for a cuddle.
'Is Mickey here?' Debbie asked, realising that bar him, the rest of the family were all present.
'He's standing outside,' Karen said, nodding towards the corridor.
'I need to talk to him. Does anybody mind if I have five minutes alone with my brother?'
'I'll go and get him,' June said, praying that her offspring would finally kiss and make up.
'Do you want me to leave as well?' Steve asked, surprised.
'Yes, that includes you, Steve.'
Holding his hands up, he walked towards the door. He might be a big old boy, but he wasn't brave enough to argue with his Debs. She turned into a Rottweiler as soon as she raised her voice.
'Mick, your sister wants you,' Steve called as he traipsed out of the ward.
Being alone with Debs for the first time since the attack on Lois made Mickey feel anxious and awkward.
'Don't just stand there, come and say hello to your nephew,' she said, trying desperately to break the ice.
As he looked at the baby for the first time, Mickey couldn't help smiling to see the miniature version of Steve. 'He's a belter, ain't he?'
Debbie took the initiative. 'Look, Mick. I know we've had our ups and downs, but I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet and get back to how we was. I miss you so much, and it upsets Mum dreadfully that me and you are on bad terms. The girls are lost without seeing Alfie, and our weekends are crap without you and Karen being part of them. Charlie's history now, Mick. In fact, he's dead in my eyes. I promise you faithfully, he ain't ever coming back. Please let's try to sort things out, even if it's only for the sake of Mum and the kids.'
Mickey was desperate for some answers to the questions that had haunted him for the past year. 'Be honest with me, Debs. I know you sent him away. But where to? And who with?'
'Scotland, with his father. Unbeknown to me, Billy had moved back to Barking and had been seeing Charlie regularly. I didn't have a clue. I only found out after he attacked Lois.'
Knowing she was telling the truth, because of his conversation with Kevin, made Mickey feel less angry. 'Are you still in contact with him?'
'No. I've disowned him, Mick. And don't bother heading North to look for him either because I've just found out he's been locked up for attempted murder.'
Leaving out the words 'girl' and 'rape', she carried on. 'Billy rang me. Begged me for money to get him a good brief. I fucked him off. In my eyes, Mick, Charlie is no longer my son. I hope the evil little bastard rots in hell.'
As he looked into his sister's eyes, Mickey knew she wasn't bluffing. 'Well, at least in the end you saw the light.'
The baby's crying signalled an end to their heart-to-heart. 'Pick him up, Mick. You haven't held him yet.'
As he gently rocked the new addition to the family, Mickey smiled. He didn't feel a bit like Rodney Trotter this time round. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed his nephew back to Debbie.
'Look, sis. I will never forgive Charlie for as long as I live, and if I ever see him again I swear I will kill him. But you and me are a different story. Now you've come to your senses, I'm willing to give all the family stuff another go.'
Debbie smiled and ordered him to call the rest of them back in.
'Thank fuck for that,' was Steve's take on the matter.
'About bleeding time,' June said, determined to give her tuppence worth. 'Us East Enders are a different breed. We stick together, through thick and thin.'
Peter shot his wife a look. He loved her dearly ninety-nine per cent of the time, but as soon as she changed into a Pearly Queen, his love quickly turned into a form of hate.