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Lenny woke up the following morning with a throbbing headache and no recollection of the previous night. It was only a post-it note on his alarm clock that reminded him what had happened.

You owe me taxi money. Zoe x

How had he let himself get so wasted? It was obvious now that he thought about it; all the anger and frustration had bottled itself up inside him until he had no other choice than to drown his sorrows.

He headed downstairs for something to eat and noticed a piece of paper had been pushed through his letterbox. On police notepaper was a number and the words Dungeaston Social Services.

Lenny wandered into the kitchen and put the kettle on, pinning the number to his fridge with a magnet. He'd ring them once he'd sobered up a bit. Thankfully it was his day off work today; he didn't have to worry about facing Zoe and Jordan for another 24 hours. He downed two paracetamol with a glass of water while he made himself breakfast.

Once he was sat down on his sofa with a slice of toast in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Lenny turned on the television. He flicked through the channels, settling on a repeat of a comedy show he'd seen three times already. He didn't care; as long as he didn't have to concentrate on the telly, he was happy.

He stayed there once the show finished, watching the next episode and then the one after that as well. It was just putting off the inevitable, but putting it off was what he wanted to do.

Eventually, bored of television, he got up and headed into the kitchen. He took the number from the front of the fridge and picked up the phone. Dialling the numbers in one by one, his finger hovered over the call button. Could he do this? Did he really want to give the rest of his life to looking after a small boy he didn't even know?

But the only alternative for Sam was care, Lenny reminded himself. If he could save him from the childhood he'd had, he would be doing something right.

Lenny pressed call.

The phone rang barely three times before someone picked up. "Hello, Dungeaston Social Services, Mary speaking. How can I help you?"

Lenny gulped. "It's, er, Lenny Lyons. I'm Sam Roberts' uncle, and I'm supposed to be looking after him now his parents are dead."

"Ah, yes, Mr Lyons. We've been expecting a phone call from you. Samuel's staying with his grandparents at the moment but they can't look after him permanently. His mother changed her will only a few days ago naming you as Sam's legal guardian if something was to happen to her and Sam's father. I don't know if you were aware of that?"

"No, I wasn't." Lenny kicked the wall with his foot. Helen had as good as dumped Sam on him now.

"Do you have any family of your own, Mr Lyons? Partner or kids, maybe?"

"No, it's just me. I split up with my girlfriend a couple of months back," he added so that he didn't seem like a sad loner.

"I see." There was a pause before Mary continued. "Do you have a job at all?"

"Yeah, I'm a doctor at Holby City Hospital."

"Holby? Where's that?"

"Down near Bristol."

"I see. Well, Mr Lyons, we'd have to arrange for someone from Holby Social Services to check your home, but providing it's suitable, Sam can move down and live with you."

"How long will that be?"

"Well, it depends, but hopefully by the end of the month."

Lenny swallowed. There wasn't that long to get everything organised for Sam's arrival. "Alright," he agreed. "End of the month, and then I'm Sam's legal guardian?"

"Providing all goes to plan, yes."