Hello, Jean Valjean is now on parole and trying to adapt to life outside of prison. Now, having never been in prison myself, I wasn't sure how accurate things are and what the correct process for coming out is, so I have just kinda glossed over it. Any questions just gives a shout!

Enjoy xx

He didn't like his sisters new choice of layabout. Guy was a waste of oxygen as far as he was concerned. He'd never worked a day in his life and didn't have any plans to either. He had as many children as he'd had hot dinners, and seemed not to know how to use the shower.

Guy wasn't Jean's biggest fan either. Until his arrival, Guy had been the big man around town. He was a man with a finger in all pies - if those pies were filled with drugs and other illegal activity, he earned his respect by others as having been 'inside' for fourteen months. When Jean had turned up after serving nineteen years, Guy was surprisingly sick with envy.

Adam, Ethan, Chloe, Morgan, Jade and Paul had all flown the nest and started their own families, while Ruben (who Jean could only remember as a baby) had managed to get into University. It was strange seeing them again. He was used to being cool Uncle Jean who served as a climbing frame, now they were having adult conversation with him, but as Jean had spent his entire adulthood in prison, he wasn't actually sure how to conduct that.

Margaret had continued to add to her brood and in the household remained sixteen year old Aaron, 15 year old Rose with a baby on the way, 12 year old Adele and the five year old twins Jack and Daniel. He couldn't tell the older ones apart let alone the twins and the house was an overcrowded chaos, made even more so by Guy's sulky sixteen year old who would flit her time between her anxious mother and her lazy father.

Jean shared his new room with the five year old twins and half a dozen models of Thomas the Tank Engine. True, his duvet covers flitted between the said train, Scooby Doo and the Smurfs, but it was better than nothing and his nephews cheered him up.

Jean's new job, however, did nothing to improve his mood. Every day from 8:30-7:00 he worked at a local gardening centre pretending to give a crap about plants. His colleagues viewed him with uncertainty as well, preferring to ignore him rather than pretending to be ok with the fact that he used to be in prison.

While his colleagues struggled to survive on £7 an hour, Jean was on minimum wage. He wasn't allowed anywhere near the tills, the managers brushed aside his questions as to when he would be trained on selling the products and he was lumbered with all the crap jobs.

'Well you can't quit', Margaret snapped at her brother as he lamented over the unfairness of it all.

They were in the cramped yellow kitchen at the moment. It was filled with an assortment of charity shop goods and hand me downs, nothing matched and everything was just grubby no matter how many times you cleaned it. Aaron and Adele had already headed off to school, Rose was in her room sulking over her swollen ankles, leaving the adults and the twins sitting at the table. Margaret kept on jumping up to do more chores; getting the boy's dinner money, putting the kettle on, pulling a clean jumper over Jack's head and trying to find the duster.

'An' grow up, a jobs a job.' She continued, out of breath. 'You're doing well for a guy who has just come out'.

'Come outta where?' piped up Jack.

'Holiday.' His mum cut across. 'Your Uncle's been on holiday.'

'Some holiday.' Jean grumbled picking at his toast. Breakfast was always toast. There'd been more variety in prison. He said as much now.

'Don't be a shit.' Guy snarled, banging his fist on the table. He wasn't even dressed yet. He rarely did. It wasn't like you needed to be dressed to spend all day watching TV. ''You're here out of charity. You sit in my house an' eat me food so the least you can do is be fucking grateful.'

'Don't swear infronta the lads.' Jean thundered.

'They're my kids an' I can do what I want! This is my house! An you can shut up!'

Jean laughed unkindly. 'It ain't your house, it's my sisters. All the deeds are in her name.'

Guy looked ready to flip the table over and hit him. He probably would have had it not been for Daniel announcing, 'Mam? Mam me head itches.'

'Danny.' Margaret scolded. 'You better not have lice again.'

While she fussed over him, Jean and Guy continued to glower at each other over the table, each desiring the other start the fight. Jean was stopping himself from throwing the first punch on account of the audience. Guy was stopping himself because deep down he knew that he'd only end up as a bloody pulp.

'Uncle Jean?' It was Daniel prodding him in the early hours of the morning with shabby pyjamas and tousled hair. With his brother asleep, it was safe for Daniel to have his thumb firmly in his mouth and as such it made it almost impossible for him to be understood.

'What?'

'I'm well chuffed you're here.'

'Thanks, Danny.'

'Are you chuffed?'

Jean couldn't complain. It wasn't the life he'd known before he'd gone into prison, but it was a life outside of prison nonetheless.

'Yeah. Dead chuffed. Did you wake me up just ta ask me that?'

'No, I just wanted to talk.'

'Lad, you've had all day to talk to me. Give yer chin a rest now.'

Daniel still continued to gander, all solemn eyes and the only sounds were of him sucking his thumb. Jean gave up ignoring him.

'What's it yer wanna ask?'

'What's it like in the bin?'

Immediately he looked as if he regretted it. His mam told him and his brother that his Uncle had been on holiday, but Daniel was smarter than his twin and quickly worked out the truth. He'd been coached by his sister to say nought about it but curiosity had gotten the better of him. The elusive Uncle Jean who'd appeared out of nowhere and was confused by things like CD Roms, disposable cameras, mobile phones, the internet and even roller blades. Daniel waited to be shouted at.

'Why'd you ask?'

Daniel couldn't tell what his Uncle was thinking. But at least he hadn't shouted.

'Rose an her friends were talking about the Bulger baby. They were saying about whether or not the kids should go to prison. Some people think that they shouldn't 'cos they're kids but Rose says murder's murder. An' I just 'fought that if people are saying that murderers shouldn't go to prison then if you went ta prison you must have done summin bad - but I don't think you're bad at all. So I wondered if prison really is such a bad place to go? An' I got to thinking about that so when Miss asked us at school where we wanted to be in ten years time, I said in prison 'cos I wanna be like you.'

'What'd she say about that?'

'Miss got cross and told me ta stop being silly.'

'She's right, kid. You don't wanna go inside.'

'Did you do summin' bad then?'

Five year old logic really was strange. Jean sighed and got up to put Daniel on his lap.

'Nah. They were just waiting to get me. Anyfing woulda done.'

'Will they get me?'

'Don't be soft. 'Course they want. Your mam would go mental. An' besides you're gonna keep your head down and your nose clean ain't ya?'

'Honest I will. Mam says you got into drumming which is how it happened. I told that to Miss but she didn't understand. She thought you were in a rock band'

Jean laughed. 'Go back to sleep, kid. You've got school tomorrow.'

Daniel went to clamber off of his Uncle, but suddenly put his little arms round him and engulfed him in a hug.

'What's that for?'

'If I'm not gonna be the one who goes to prison. Could I be the one who something bad happens to? They talk about the Bulger baby in the playground. I don't want anything like that happening to me.'

Bloody hell. Kids knew too much these days. He'd have to have a word with his sister. Or at least the news stations who liked to keep everyone up to date with the gory details.

'I'll go after anyone who even tries to hurt you.' He promised. 'You just call on me, an' I'll be there.'