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“Blackridge.”

“Blackridge?”

Donnie cracked open his beer. “Walter always looks after the old lads. Sends a bit through every now and then. Christmas. Birthdays. Things like that.”

“You retired years ago.”

“Aye, but I spent near thirty years keeping his bloody steelworks running before that.” He took another pull from his beer. “Walter must’ve seen your mum’s post on the Facebook page.”

Jake glanced over at his mum. “Didn’t I tell you to stop that?”

Maggie shrugged without turning from the hob. “Can’t, love. Can I?”

“Mum...”

“What?” She looked over her shoulder. “It takes five minutes. If she’s out there...” She gave a small, sad smile. “She deserves to know how her little boy’s growing up.”

Through the kitchen window, Teddy attempted step-overs against an imaginary defender and very nearly took out the washing line.

Donnie’s mouth softened. “Look at the lad. Made up, he is.”

Jake took a swallow of beer. “Bit generous.”

“That’s Walter Blackridge for you.” Donnie leaned back against the counter. “Never forgets his own.”

Jake glanced out at Teddy again.

“You staying for dinner, love?” Maggie glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m doing Teddy’s favourite.”

“Greggs steak bake?”

Maggie fixed him with the exact same look she’d used throughout his childhood whenever he’d refused vegetables.

Jake chuckled into his can. “Sure. But I gotta be at the pub in an hour.”

And so he stayed, devouring the Toad in the Hole with mash and onion gravy, then headed out to the King’s Arms after, where Deacon called at him from across from the stage.

“About fucking time!”

Jake flipped him off and focused on setting up. Amp heads first. Speaker cabs after. Coils of leads everywhere. Raff perched on the edge of the tiny stage tuning his bass while Deacon argued with the sound limiter because apparently Pete still believed they were personally responsible for every blown fuse in Yorkshire.

“New song tonight then?” Deacon said while plugging in his pedal board.

Jake tightened the wingnut on the crash cymbal. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Raff snorted from across the stage. “Mate, you’ve been obsessing over that thing for three days.”

Jake ignored him.

Mostly because they weren’t wrong.

“Your fella coming to watch?” Deacon nudged him with his shoulder. “Listen to your song get its first proper outing?”

“Doubt it.”

“Oh.”

“Not sure he is even my fella.”