REFLECTING ON OTTERSPOOL PROM.

Sitting on Otterspool Prom, with the Easter sun shining and The Mersey gently flowing by, Joey gazed at the water whilst a montage of images flashed through his brain. Coming here as a kid, rolling down the hill, playing tag, hide and seek, and bulldog with his siblings. Early teenage fumbles with girls in the greenery, losing his virginity to Debbie Barrett, a succession of girlfriends, Alice Waring amongst them, who was physical perfection but always slammed the door to his jag. Walking Edgar, and of course Roxy, always Roxy.

Early days with Roxy when they first met and Joey lost his heart. Bringing his mam to the garden festival in 1984 when they were both hurting from desertion. Roxy back on the scene by September 1987 and rekindling their romance till a month later on this very spot,

'Don't Joey, I'm married that's why.'

Walking with Roxy last week discussing today, his mam's 79th birthday.

'I'm not going Joey, she's never liked me Joey, and I'm the last person she'll want to see on her birthday. She's never forgiven you for marrying me in the first place and then for staying married.'

Joey grimaced. It was true and the only reason they'd stayed married was because he had loved his wife beyond rhyme or reason, enough to stand father to Alex, to ignore the constant affairs, to overlook her refusal to mix with any of his family, to demand his loyalty and undivided attention whilst offering nothing herself. But now Joey didn't even know whether or not he still loved her or why the hell he stayed. All he felt was an increasing sense of dissatisfaction that he couldn't comprehend.

Joey realised his relationship with his mother had never fully recovered from the time he told her of his marriage, and his secret frustrations and resentments so long suppressed had finally surfaced and been given voice to. On the face of it things were ok, he'd apologised but deep down he felt he'd spoken the truth. She had domineered them, smothered them, made it hard for them to have relationships outside the family. His mother had forgiven him, of course she had, because that's what mothers do, but Joey knew the things he had said that day lay at the back of her mind, forgiven but not forgotten.

Julie had hit the nail on the head when she told Billy it was a mother he wanted not a wife. Billy, living in his dead grandad's house, continuing to have dinner next door with his mam every night, still pining for Julie, and still trying and failing to bond with Francesca. Francesca now twenty-seven and married to Zac, the only son of a wealthy, health-spa owning, golf playing, wine quaffing Cheshire type, and living in the Colonnades at Albert Dock. No doubt she would send Nellie a card, flowers and a gift voucher but Joey doubted she'd visit.

Jack had certainly needed his mam when Leonora had decamped to London when Rosa was a toddler, unable to cope any longer with Jack's aggression. Jack had moved back home and played no further part in his daughter's life. Jack never appeared bothered about the separation from her, something Joey just couldn't understand. How could you not mind that you hadn't seen or heard from your daughter for nineteen years and possibly never would?

Two years later Jack had moved in with Susie, a single mum with a fourteen year old daughter Jess, who lived near Brunswick station. How Nellie had raged, Leonora had been too old, but Susie was too common, a single mum, and from a traveller family to boot. The birth of John a year later and Tanya the following year, both baptised and raised as Catholics had softened Nellie a lot. At fifteen and fourteen they were a bright, loveable pair of scallies whom Joey had a soft spot for. Nellie was scandalised when Jess had not one but two sons by different men, stayed with neither and now lived with the boys in a warm, friendly, slightly chaotic house in one of the Holy Land streets where Jack fitted in as grandad and adored both lads. Joey envied Jack, undisputed head of his own clan with a partner who was both friend and lover.

Unlike him.

Roxy had refused to give him a child.

'It's too late now Joey, I'm too old now Joey, you should have cut the cord and married me earlier Joey, when I wanted you to.'

Granted Roxy was older than Joey, but only by a couple of years, hardly too old to have another baby when they did finally marry.

Although Joey loved Alex and had treated him as his own, it wasn't the same not quite, not that Joey could ever bear to acknowledge that. He always refused to face up to that little niggle that reared its head sometimes.

Joey was close to Alex and a frequent visitor to Manchester where he lived with his girlfriend. In contrast Roxy rarely visited, and when she did the atmosphere was stiff and formal. No surprise there. It had been Joey who had bought Alex up, been there for him, helped with homework, taken him to football, swimming, cycling, cubs, attended parents evenings, sorted out parties, sleepovers and problems. The day he left Alex in his Manchester halls for the first time he'd bid a cheerful goodbye and cried his way home along the M62.

All his brothers had fathered at least one child, even Adrian had managed two sons before deciding, after nine years of marriage, to stop living a lie and come out. Nellie's worst fears realised.

She blamed Eddie (giving him ideas), Freddie (deserting them), Irene (not clever enough), even Joey (too tolerant of that sort of thing).

Adrian and Irene had stayed friendly, so he had been able to maintain contact with his lads, James and George. They were both away at university, James in Leeds and George in Birmingham. Irene had remarried, and when she had a daughter eight years ago Adrian had been very moved, very moved, to be asked to stand godfather.

'Blended families mam, bended families,' said Joey, rubbing her arm, when his mam went into overdrive about the break up of the family and the disintegration of society, repeating the phrase he'd used the year before when Jess had Dexter, and had to resurrect with some force when Jaiden was born two years later.

'It's all around us and you can't hold it against the kiddies.'

'Oh, of course not,' said Nellie, 'poor little souls, it's not their fault, they don't ask to be born.'

She sighed, whilst secretly delighted at being a great-nan, and the bonus of an extra 'grandaughter'.

Joey smiled as he pictured the three moving Nellie to tears with their handmade cards, pictures and creations. With John and Tanya having put in some work for Joey they had earned enough to buy Nellie their first grown up present of a gold watch and Joey knew Nellie would be overjoyed.

Adrian and Irene being civilised about their break up meant Nellie had kept in touch with James and George and being Easter no doubt both boys would be there today.

The lure of being able to see her grandsons had meant Nellie allowed Adrian back into the fold after the initial rantings and ravings, but that didn't extend to his partner of ten years, Andrew, a history lecturer at one of the universities and in Joey's eyes a perfect match for Adrian. Although younger Andrew took responsibility for everything, leaving Adrian free to go where the muse took him.

There was no doubt in Joey's mind that like Jack, Adrian had found someone to nurture him and have a truly satisfying relationship with.

Joey shook his head, he needed to stop this train of thought right now and get back to his car.

The issue, buried deep, but still there, was his resentment of the role he'd been cast into by his family, his grievances about always having to sort out everyone else's problems to the detriment of his own life. Didn't matter how often he tried to reason it away it was still there, festering.

In his darker moments he blamed them for his late marriage to Roxy. If only he'd been in a position to marry before she left the first time, if dad hadn't left, if mam had faced up to her own problems instead of relying on him all the time, if Jack, Adrian, Aveline and Billy had sorted themselves out instead of sitting there waiting for him to do it, he'd have had his child or even children.

There it was again that visceral feeling of wanting his own kid, his own flesh and blood.

A woman walking by caught his eye and from God knows where the words

'Oh, hidin' out down 'ere are we, Mr Boswell, when we're not being shady or bleedin' the state dry.' echoed in Joey's mind.

No, he stood up quickly, he was not giving in to that particular memory. He'd spent twenty-one years firmly pushing that one away every time it surfaced, and he was not giving into it now.

He turned his back on the river and walked briskly back to his car, not his beloved Jag, now residing in auto heaven, but a Mercedes cabriolet, black of course. He turned the ignition on, set the roof to down and as Maria Callas filled the air he pulled away.

Joey cursed silently as the car in front stopped on amber forcing him to a halt as well. The traffic was heavy along Aigburth Road and he felt he'd caught every red light possible. He drummed his fingers impatiently and checked his appearance in the mirror.

Although Joey had thickened out slightly he wasn't carrying any weight and he hadn't lost his hair. He had it shorter now and left it to its natural colour. Joey had given up on leather gear and tended to follow the "Reservoir Dogs' dress code of black suit, white shirt, black tie, often by Agnes B. since he'd discovered she was Quentin Tarantino's chosen designer.

Finally the lights changed and Joey was able to turn left into Dingle Lane.

Maria was just coming to the climax of his favourite aria when his mobile rang cutting dead the music. Cursing again he slowed up in front of the church and answered with an irritable,

"Hello, yes?"

"Aw hey Joey where are yer? Mam won't cut the cake without yer, an' we're all waitin'," shrilled through the speaker.

"Oh, hi Princess, I'm just at the Mount. Be there in a few minutes."

"Ok Joey, tarra then."

Maria returned with the ending of the call, but Joey jabbed it off, slipped it in his pocket and accelerated away. Three minutes later he stopped behind Oswald's car, put the roof up, locked it and walked down to number thirty.

Joey sighed as he passed twenty-eight even though his granddad had been dead for the past thirteen years. He'd been ninety-one before he breathed his last in his own armchair, in his own parlour. A surprisingly gentle, peaceful death. And he'd got to see the 21st century in, not that he was aware of that fact. The dementia that had first shown itself in 1990 had steadily increased and by the time he died his mind had decayed completely.

Joey sighed again, unconsciously squared his shoulders and pushed open the door to number thirty.