Backstabber

‘He’s dead?’ Eddie mumbled stupidly.

The doctor nodded.

Little Vinny Butler felt like his whole world had collapsed, and it had. He’d been sick and couldn’t stop shaking, and as an image of Molly flashed through his mind once again, he shut his eyes and rocked to and fro. He could see his little sister clearly, she was smiling at him, laughing almost, and he knew without a doubt this was retribution for his past sins. To lose a much-loved child was an excruciating feeling, and Little Vinny now knew how his dad must’ve felt when Molly died.

‘I think the doctor needs to sedate him, love. He looks grey and can’t stop trembling, bless him,’ Queenie muttered in Vinny’s ear. They were currently in Newham General Hospital. Against all odds, Sammi-Lou had been resuscitated after her heart had stopped. However, the doctors weren’t overly hopeful of a full recovery, as her heart had stopped for a good few minutes.

‘I wanna go home. I need to phone Regan,’ Calum spat. His tears had turned to anger, and he hated the world.

‘I’ll ring Regan’s social worker in the morning. Once the authorities know what’s happened, they should allow him home,’ Vinny replied, rather coldly. He had never particularly been a granddad type. Pipe and slippers were not his style, and he’d tended to treat his grandsons like little mates. He remembered how he’d once ordered young Oliver to call him ‘Vinny’ rather than ‘Granddad’. How he wished he could change that now. Oliver could call him ‘Granddad’ every minute of every day, if only it would bring him back to life.

Queenie squeezed her eldest’s hand. Ava hadn’t wanted to come to the hospital, had chosen to go back to Albie’s house in Barking with Michael. No way would Queenie leave Vinny’s side though. She could see in his eyes how hard this had hit him, and even though she was still in a state of shock herself, she needed to remain strong. It was her duty as a mother.

‘Tell me again what the bastards said, Mum. See if you can remember the exact words this time.’

‘It was all such a blur, Vin, I really can’t think straight at the moment. But they definitely spoke with Turkish accents, and I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I heard them mention Ahmed’s name. They said something like “This is for Ahmed.” It was the one in the Bill Clinton mask, I think. No, it might’ve been the other one. So scary, those awful masks were. I thought they were armed robbers at first, I really did.’

‘I’ll find ’em and fucking make ’em wish they’d never been born, I promise you that much. When I get my hands on the bastards, I’ll—’

‘Shut up! Just fucking close that big mouth of yours for once, will ya?’ Little Vinny screamed, stopping his father mid-sentence. ‘My beautiful wife is fighting for her life. My son is dead. And all this is your fault. You playing the big man is what has brought on this tragedy in the first place. How dare you sit there, planning your revenge at a time like this? Piss off home, and take him with you an’ all,’ Little Vinny said, poking Calum on the arm. ‘None of yous are bothered about Sammi-Lou. All he’s bothered about is Regan. As for you and Nan, you’re two of a fucking kind. All you care about is each other.’

About to jump to his mother’s defence, Vinny Butler was stopped from doing so by the arrival of Sammi-Lou’s father. Vinny and Gary Allen had never seen eye to eye, and when Gary started insinuating that what had happened was his fault, instead of arguing the point, Vinny blanked the man and stood up. ‘Come on, Mum, and you, Calum. We’ll leave Sammi’s family in peace and pop back later.’

The last thing Vinny heard as he stomped down the corridor was the scathing comments from Gary Allen: ‘Leave us in peace! I’ve never had a decent night’s sleep since my Sammi became a Butler. A disaster waiting to happen, this was. And it isn’t your son’s fault, it’s yours.’

‘Don’t let him talk to you like that,’ Queenie hissed.

Unusually for Vinny, he chose to ignore his mother’s advice. Oliver was dead; Sammi-Lou, even if she did survive, would probably be brain-dead. So for once, Mouth Almighty Allen did have an extremely valid point.

Albie Butler was sitting in silence in his favourite armchair. It was full of cigarette burns, and worn out in places – and that’s exactly how Albie felt at this moment. Old, stained and faded. Albie had hoped, even prayed that the wonderful Vivian would get the send-off she truly deserved, but it wasn’t to be. Her funeral would go down in history for many years to come, but for all the wrong reasons.

Michael grabbed the brandy bottle and topped his father’s glass up, then his own. ‘You got any food in the fridge? You didn’t eat at the wake, did ya? I’ll make you something.’

‘I’m not hungry, lad. But thanks anyway. Be turning in her grave, will Vivvy, and truth be known I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this world, Michael. I’m tired, I’m old, and I want to see Vivvy again. And our Roy, Adam, Oliver, Brenda and Molly. Got more family up above now than down ’ere.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Your mum’s always blamed me for Molly’s death, seeing as it was my bastard son that did it. But I had nothing to do with the way he was brought up – I never even knew the kid existed. It wasn’t me that made him a killer. So I reckon your mother has far more blood on her hands than me. I’ve often wondered if Vinny was born evil, but I don’t believe he was. It’s your mother’s doing, the way he’s turned out. Queenie was determined to mould her first-born into a crime lord to match the bloody Krays. I remember how she used to look up to Violet Kray back in the day. She’d see the way shopkeepers would let Violet jump the queue and make a big fuss of her, how everyone kowtowed to her, and she was jealous. That’s what your mother craved: notoriety and adulation. And with no way of achieving that in her own right, she was determined yous boys would do it for her. It’s her that’s evil, boy, and she has blood all over her hands after today’s shambles. Lovely lad, our Oliver. What a waste of a bloody life. And I’ve always thought the world of Sammi-Lou. Why is it always the good ones that suffer and not the bad souls? The devil certainly looks after your mother and Vinny,’ Albie spat.

Shocked by the viciousness in his usually mild-mannered father’s words, Michael was taken aback. ‘Mum ain’t evil, Dad. She is what she is. Today wasn’t her doing. As for Vinny, we all know he’s got a streak, but he has calmed down of late. I bet he’s as shocked as anybody. Ahmed and Burak vanished years ago – why wait until Auntie Viv’s wake to turn up, hell-bent on revenge? It just doesn’t make sense.’

‘Of course it makes bleedin’ sense! They were gunning for your brother and, as per usual, he got away unharmed while others weren’t so lucky. How you can stick up for Vinny or your mother after that Bella turnout, I will never know. Your mother moulded Vinny into the money-grabbing power-loving fruitcake that he turned out to be, and Vinny chose to pal up with Ahmed in the first bloody place. Had he chosen his friends more wisely, Oliver would still be alive and Sammi-Lou would not be at death’s door. You need to wake up and smell the coffee, boy. The evil in this family will outlive you, if you’re not very careful. You mark my words.’

Head bowed, Eddie Mitchell felt desolate as he leaned against the wall and lit a cigar. Stuart’s motor was parked up in Stratford, but no way could he face travelling back to Essex in the vehicle the two of them had been laughing and joking in only this morning. He got all choked up just thinking about the way he’d been taking the piss out of his future son-in-law’s girly-looking air freshener and his rubbish taste in music.

‘I’m gonna have to get off in a bit, if that’s OK?’ Raymond stated and asked at the same time. His wife’s parents were coming over to theirs for dinner and Polly would have his guts for garters if he did not turn up. It was her mother’s birthday.

‘Yeah – you get off. And you, Gary,’ Eddie muttered. He’d originally met Stuart in prison. They’d shared a cell together and bonded almost instantly. Stu was far more than a pal or employee to Eddie. The lad was like another son to him.

‘I haven’t got to be anywhere. I’ll come to Frankie’s with you. Have you switched your phone back on yet? Frankie isn’t silly, ya know,’ Gary reminded his father.

‘I rang Joey. She’s been trying to ring me and Stu, but she don’t know anything yet. Joey took her out for something to eat, like I told him to. I couldn’t even tell him on the phone Stuart’s dead, so fuck knows how I’m gonna explain that to Frankie. She’s bound to blame me. So will Stu’s mum, I bet. Best I pluck up the courage to pay her a visit tomorrow an’ all. It’s what Stuart would’ve wanted me to do.’

Gary put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulders. Life had toughened him up to the point that not much fazed him these days. ‘Let’s call a cab, eh? I’ll do the talking when we get to Frankie’s. We need to be strong, Dad. Frankie’s gonna need us more than ever now. Poor little cow ain’t destined to find happiness, is she? Perhaps those bastard gypsies cursed her after all.’

Meg Allen darted along the hospital corridor with her youngest daughter by her side. She and Millie had been spending a relaxing day being pampered at an Essex health farm when Meg had checked her phone messages. Gary had left one, telling her there’d been an incident and she needed to make her way to the London Chest Hospital in Bethnal Green as soon as possible.

‘Whatever’s happened? And why haven’t you been answering your bloody phone? We’ve been worried sick,’ Meg Allen screamed at her husband. She and Millie had thought of every scenario possible and panicked throughout the journey. Meg had come to the conclusion her husband must have endured some kind of heart failure, but here he was, fully dressed, and apart from looking a bit peaky he seemed as right as rain.

Gary Allen was not a man who shed tears easily. Even when he’d buried his dear old mum last year, he’d managed to keep a stiff upper lip during his moving eulogy. However, Sammi-Lou was his first-born and he’d doted on her since day one. As for Oliver, unlike the other two horrors his daughter had given birth to, he truly was the perfect grandson. Gary had idolized the lad, even as a baby.

Having never seen her dad cry before, Millie was frightened. ‘Where’s Sammi-Lou and the boys? Is it Little Vinny? Has something bad happened to him?’

Gary Allen put one arm around his wife, and the other around his daughter. ‘There was a shooting at the wake. Two masked men burst in. Oliver didn’t make it, and Sammi-Lou is critical. Her heart stopped, and …’

Meg Allen pushed her husband away. ‘Oliver didn’t make what? A shooting at a wake! Where is Sammi now?’

‘Surely you don’t mean Oliver’s dead, Dad? That’s ridiculous. And Sammi’s heart can’t have stopped,’ Millie Allen shrieked.

When Little Vinny suddenly appeared, his white shirt covered in blood and a doctor in tow, the realization suddenly hit Meg and Millie Allen full in the face. It was then Meg became hysterical.

Frankie Mitchell wasn’t daft. She knew when Joey had turned up out of the blue earlier, demanding to take her and the kids out for something to eat, that her father must have told him to do so. No doubt her dad had enticed Stuart to get rat-arsed at the wake and now he was feeling guilty, trying to put her in a good mood so she wouldn’t bite Stuart’s head off when he rolled home. Or at least, that’s what she’d assumed.

‘No. Don’t put the TV on,’ Joey shouted, snatching the remote out of Brett’s hands.

‘But Mum says I’m old enough to watch The Simpsons now,’ Brett complained.

Frankie snatched the remote out of her brother’s hand. ‘You’ve been acting bloody weird ever since you got here. I reckoned Dad sent you because him and Stuart are bladdered, but you’re so twitchy it’s starting to freak me out. So come on, Joey, tell me: what’s going on?’

All Joey knew was that there had been a shooting at the funeral his father had attended, and Stuart had been wounded. When his dad had rung back again, about an hour or so ago, he’d offered no more information. His orders were to keep Frankie away from the TV and radio; Eddie promised he would explain all when he arrived at Frankie’s himself.

‘I’m not acting weird. It’s just me and Dom. He went mad when I told him I’m going to be working for Dad. Stormed out, and I think it’s all over between us, for good.’ Joey was telling the truth to a degree. Dominic had gone ballistic when he broke the news he was giving up his high-flying career as a broker to go and work for his father.

Harry nudged Georgie. In the travelling community, homosexuality was extremely frowned upon. Rumour had it that Old Man Macca’s grandson had been gay, and he’d disappeared without a trace. ‘Uncle Joey, can I ask you something? I know I don’t call Frankie muvver, but it’s OK to call you my uncle, ain’t it?’

Knowing whatever the horrible child said was bound to be crude and also a dig at him, Joey’s response was, ‘Call me whatever you like, Nephew.’

‘I wanna know if it hurts when Dom sticks his cory up your bum? Only, sometimes when I have a crap it’s painful – and that’s going out the normal way, ain’t it?’

Frankie was speechless for a moment, but when Georgie burst out laughing she turned on her children and yelled: ‘Get back upstairs now, the pair of ya. I’ve had enough of you two for one day and if you don’t get out of my sight, I’ll swing for you. No way are you going out with Calum again until you learn how to behave in the correct manner. And I bloody well mean that!’

Georgie giggled as she playfully pushed her brother up the stairs. ‘We’ll be nice to her tomorrow, behave ourselves. Bet she does let us see Calum.’

‘Yeah. The dinlo will fall for it an’ all, she’s that desperate,’ Harry grinned.

‘Mum, if Stuart doesn’t come home, can I sleep in your bed with you tonight?’ Brett asked Frankie. The last couple of mornings Harry had crept into his room and been really nasty to him before anybody else in the house had woken up.

‘Stuart will be coming home, love. But if Granddad has got him very drunk, we’ll make him sleep on the sofa, shall we?’ Frankie replied jovially. So far, Brett hadn’t picked up on the terrible sayings and language Georgie and Harry used, but Frankie was worried he would in the long run. Brett certainly wasn’t his usual self lately, and that did concern Frankie immensely. Her youngest had always been a bubbly little chap before Georgie and Harry came on the scene.

‘Nooooo,’ Joey yelled, snatching the remote off Frankie and turning off the TV the second she turned it on. His dad had said there was bound to be something about what had happened today on the news.

Frankie put her hands on her hips. ‘Right! Tell me the truth now. What the fuck is going on, Joey?’

The buzzer sounded in the nick of time. Joey Mitchell was relieved to fling open the front door and see his father and Gary step out of a black cab. He ran outside to greet them. ‘Frankie knows something’s up. Have they kept Stuart in hospital? He’s going to be OK, isn’t he?’

One look at his father and half-brother’s sombre expressions told Joey all he needed to know.

Minutes later, Frankie Mitchell’s screams of unbridled anguish could be heard half a mile away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was ten p.m. when Michael and Albie Butler arrived at the hospital in Bethnal Green. Little Vinny had rung up in a terrible state, and aware that Vinny had left the hospital, Michael had insisted his nephew needed some family around him.

‘They won’t tell us anything,’ Little Vinny bellowed, eyes bulging with a look of sheer terror.

Gary Allen glared at Michael and Albie, mumbling, ‘I’m going to find Meg and Millie,’ before stomping off. Unlike his wife, who’d been quite at ease with Sammi-Lou’s relationship with Little Vinny from the very beginning, Gary had always seen the danger signs. He was a self-made millionaire through pure hard graft, and a family of notorious gangsters did not impress Gary in the least. Especially one that seemed to have a personal bond with the Grim Reaper.

‘You sit with your granddad and I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on,’ Michael said.

‘Gary hates me now. He’s blaming me for what happened. I only went to Auntie Viv’s funeral, so how is all this my fault?’ Little Vinny told Albie. ‘Dad’s the one to blame, if anybody. It was him they came to shoot. Why did they have to turn the gun on Ollie and Sammi? Why would anybody do that to an innocent woman and child?’

Albie had no answers, all he could do was put an arm around his distressed grandson’s shoulders. Little Vinny had lived with him when his father had gone to prison, and they’d been extremely close ever since. It was an awful feeling to lose a son; Albie could remember Roy’s death as though it were yesterday, and all he could do was say a silent prayer that Sammi-Lou would pull through. With Sammi by his side, Little Vinny would cope with the loss of Oliver in time, but without her Albie feared for his grandson’s future. Sammi was the strong one in their relationship. It was she who had turned Little Vinny into the good man he was today.

‘Gary upset Meg and she stormed out. He was really nasty to her, said some proper shitty stuff. Aimed at me being a Butler it was. He was insinuating that our family is rotten to the fucking core. I’ve always been a good dad and husband, haven’t I? The man’s a cunt, Granddad.’

‘Don’t be taking no notice of Gary, boy. It’s grief and worry making him say such stuff. Michael will have a chat with him – put him straight, so to speak. What happened with your father? Did you two have words?’

‘He’s a cunt an’ all. All him and Nan are bothered about is themselves, so I told ’em where to go. They make me sick. How dare they discuss fucking revenge when I’ve just lost my son and I don’t even know if my wife’s gonna pull through?’

Albie shook his head in disgust. Queenie and Vinny never failed to disappoint him.

‘Where’s Calum?’ Little Vinny asked.

‘Round your nan’s with your father. We dropped Ava off there before coming here. In a right state of shock, she is, bless her. She sends her love to you and Sammi.’

‘Sammi’s gonna need more than love. The first doctor we spoke to said her heart had stopped for a few minutes. Then the Indian quack said it was longer, and hinted if she wakes up she might be brain-dead. What am I gonna do, Granddad? I love her so bloody much.’

‘I know you do, lad. She’s a fighter is Sammi. Let’s hope she—’

Albie never got to finish his words of comfort. The doctor appeared at that moment and the look on his face spoke volumes.

‘I’m so sorry. We did our utmost, but Sammi-Lou didn’t make it, I’m afraid.’

Little Vinny picked up the chair and threw it down the corridor. ‘Nooooo. Not my Sammi-Lou. This ain’t happening. It can’t be. Sammi, Sammi,’ he screamed.

Georgie and Harry O’Hara were in an extremely upbeat mood. Neither child had liked Stuart. He was far less of a pushover than their mother, and they were delighted he was now out of the picture.

‘She’s wailing again. Hark at her. Sounds like that Jack Russell I used to torture,’ Harry chuckled. He, more so than Georgie, was getting a real buzz out of his mother’s pain. It served her right.

‘I think we should say something to her. We can pretend to be sad, can’t we?’ Georgie suggested. She and Harry had been earwigging earlier when their granddad and Uncle Gary had delivered the shocking blow to their mother. She’d screamed like a nutter, then locked herself in her bedroom and had not stopped making weird noises since.

‘I ain’t saying nothing to her. And why should you? The bitch took us away from our family. Now she knows how it feels to be apart from someone you care about. Poor old Stuie. I wonder how badly he suffered before snuffing it?’

‘Oh, don’t say that, Harry. He did buy us loads of stuff. I’m gonna knock on Mum’s door and tell her we’re sorry for her loss.’

‘Go on then, crawler. And while you’re at it, ask the slag when we can go and visit Calum next.’

Michael Butler glared at the unfeeling police officer. ‘The lad’s in no fit state to talk to you mob. Would you wanna chat if you’d just lost a son and your wife?’ he hissed.

‘No. But I will need to take a statement from him soon. How about tomorrow?’

‘How about you go catch the killers instead of pestering us? I’ve already told you everything that happened. I ain’t telling you again,’ Michael snarled.

Little Vinny pinched himself on the arm to check he was actually awake. He felt so numb, he doubted he was capable of stringing a couple of words together, let alone a full sentence. His mind kept replaying the first time he’d laid eyes on Sammi-Lou. He might have only been a teenager back then, but he’d known immediately that one day he would marry her. People question whether love at first sight exists, but he and Sammi were living proof that it did. Or they were up until this morning. Now his beautiful wife was dead, and he was about to say his goodbyes to her. Surreal didn’t even scratch the surface.

‘One of the nurses will be with you in a minute,’ the doctor told Little Vinny.

‘Do you want me to go in with you? Or would you rather be alone?’ Michael asked his nephew.

‘Alone. I want to be alone – with my wife,’ Little Vinny replied. Even his voice didn’t feel like it belonged to him. It sounded flat and dead, which was exactly how he felt inside.

‘I’ll make up the spare bed. You can stay at mine for as long as you like. With Calum, of course,’ Albie said. He really did not know what else to say. On a day like today, there were simply no words.

‘I’ll go home.’

‘Me and Granddad’ll come and stay with you then,’ Michael stated. Little Vinny was understandably shell-shocked and no way was Michael leaving him all by himself.

‘Nah. You go back to Barking. I need my own space.’

Michael and Albie shared a worried glance. Both were thinking the same thing. Little Vinny had endured problems with drink and drugs in the past. Would this send him spiralling out of control again?

‘Mummy! Mummy, please open the door. I want a cuddle,’ Brett Mitchell wept. He had loved Stuart and seen him as the dad he’d never had. They’d played lots of games together, had fun days out, and Stuart had bought him toys and games. Now he was gone for good and Brett knew his life was about to get a whole lot worse. His mum would be sad all the time, and Harry would pick on him even more.

‘Move out the way, Brett,’ Eddie ordered. ‘Frankie, unlock the door, darlin’,’ he bellowed. After hours of constant wailing, it had all gone worryingly quiet inside the bedroom.

‘Do as Dad says, Sis. I know you’re upset and want to be alone, but Brett needs his mummy,’ Joey added. Being twins, he and Frankie had always been exceptionally close. His heart went out to his sister, it really did. Even though his own relationship was rocky at the moment, he’d still managed to find and hold on to love. With Stuart, Frankie thought she’d finally found love too.

Unable to stop himself, Harry O’Hara burst out laughing. ‘Brett needs his mummy,’ he mimicked.

Georgie giggled. ‘Shhh. They’ll hear you.’

‘Go shut that pair up, Gary. If I go in there, I’ll strangle both of ’em,’ Eddie ordered his son.

Georgie and Harry insisted on sharing a bedroom, and as Gary flung the door open, Harry scowled at him. ‘You’re meant to knock first. Says so on the sign outside. Georgie might’ve been getting changed. Hoping to see her titties, was ya, you perv?’

Seeing red, Gary raised his right hand and whacked the cheeky little shit around the head. He didn’t feel like an uncle to these kids. They were vermin, just like their father had been.

Harry O’Hara was stunned as he fell to the carpet.

‘Leave him alone, you bastard. Touch him again and I’ll beat the granny out of ya,’ Georgie O’Hara screamed as she flew at Gary, scratching at his face like a wildcat.

Gary held both of Georgie’s wrists and glared at Harry. ‘We could hear you, taking the piss. Your mum’s fiancé has just been murdered. Have you no fucking heart?’

‘We’ve lost our family an’ all, you know,’ Harry spat.

Letting go of Georgie, Gary Mitchell wagged his forefinger at both kids. ‘I’d watch my back if I were you two. Me and your granddad are on to ya, big time.’

When Gary slammed their bedroom door, Harry O’Hara stuck both middle fingers in the air. ‘Go fuck your grandmother,’ he mumbled. In the travelling community, that was the worst insult there was.

Little Vinny stared at his wife’s pretty face. It didn’t have a mark on it. Sammi looked as though she was sleeping and would wake up any second. She truly was beautiful, even in death.

Sammi’s body was covered over, but unable to stop himself, Little Vinny lifted up the cover to hold her hand. It was still warm. ‘I love you, babe. I’ll always love you. Forever soulmates, eh?’

As he continued to pour his heart out to Sammi-Lou as though she could hear him, tears flooded down Little Vinny’s cheeks. ‘I won’t let you down, I won’t fall to pieces, I promise you that. It’s your job to take care of Ollie now, and mine to look out for Calum and Regan. I’m going to get in touch with Regan’s social worker tomorrow, fight tooth and nail to get him an early release. That’s what you would’ve wanted, eh? And Calum’s gonna need his brother now he hasn’t got you or Ollie, isn’t he?’

For a split second, Little Vinny could have sworn he felt Sammi-Lou’s hand slightly squeeze his, but he guessed that was only wishful thinking. ‘I want you to tell our Ollie how much I love him, babe. I can’t go and see him, not with his face like that; I’d rather remember him how he looked this morning. Smart and handsome in his suit and tie. Tell him he will always be my number one son, no matter what.’

Little Vinny carried on chatting to his deceased wife until a nurse opened the door and informed him the Allens wanted to see Sammi-Lou. He stood up and kissed Sammi tenderly on the forehead. ‘Goodbye, princess. Wait for me in heaven.’

Little Vinny’s final memory of visiting his dead wife would be of Meg Allen as she was taken inside the room. ‘My baby. My beautiful little girl. Sammi-Lou. Sammi-Lou. You can’t leave me. Wake up,’ Meg screamed.

Shuddering, Little Vinny ran towards the hospital exit.

‘You’ve got thirty seconds to open this door, Frankie, before I break it down,’ Eddie Mitchell threatened.

‘Go downstairs a minute, Brett. Mum’ll be down in a tick,’ Gary said, ruffling his nephew’s hair. Unlike the other two horrors, Brett was a lovely little boy. So much so, it was hard to believe Jed O’Hara’s sperm was involved in his creation.

‘You don’t reckon she’s done something stupid, do you?’ Gary whispered, as soon as Brett was out of earshot.

‘Only one way to find out,’ Eddie said, taking a step back then aiming his right foot at the door.

The door finally splintered at the third attempt and Joey was first to burst into the room. ‘She’s not here.’

Eddie peered out of the open window. Frankie had obviously made her escape via the garage roof, but there was no sign of her. ‘What the fuck am I paying these so-called security men for, eh? Gary, you stay here and look after Brett. Joey, me and you will find your sister.’

Ten minutes later, Joey Mitchell found his sister in the summer house. She was sitting on the floor, her knees huddled to her chest, shivering. ‘Dad, Dad! I’ve found her,’ Joey yelled, before taking his jacket off and putting it around Frankie’s shoulders.

‘What you doing out here? You had us worried sick. You could’ve broken your neck jumping off that garage roof,’ Eddie Mitchell told her.

‘I wish I had. I don’t want to live any more. I’ve had enough. First Mum, now Stuart. He didn’t even want to go to that fucking funeral you know. Said he didn’t know the dead woman. Why did you have to drag him there? Were you not content with just killing my mum? Did you want me to lose my fiancé as well?’

Tears pricking his eyes, Eddie crouched to his haunches. The day he’d accidentally killed Jessica had been the worst of his life, but today was right up there with those dark days when his father and his son Ricky had been brutally murdered, that was for sure. ‘I loved him too, Frankie. Stu was like a son to me, you know he was.’

‘But he was more than that to me, wasn’t he? Stuart was my future, my everything. And now he’s gone, thanks to you. You’re gonna have to take care of Georgie and Harry for me now. I can’t manage. Harry’s evil, just like Jed was. You should’ve heard what he said about Stuart earlier. He was laughing, I heard him. That’s why I had to get out the house. I couldn’t take any more. I just want to curl up and die. That’s why I brought these in here with me,’ Frankie screamed, waving a packet of tablets in the air.

Joey snatched hold of the packet in panic. ‘How many have you taken, Frankie?’

‘None! I forgot to bring a drink. But if I had, I would have swallowed every single fucking one of ’em. Other than Brett, I have nothing to live for now. Nothing whatsoever.’

Queenie Butler switched the bedroom light on. ‘You hungry, Calum? You need to eat something. I’ve got burgers, sausages, bacon. Can cook you whatever you fancy.’

‘Not hungry. I just wanna sleep,’ came the muffled reply. Calum had been under the quilt for hours and had no intention of getting up. All he could think about was his mum and Oliver. Not being able to see, talk, laugh or even argue with them again seemed so unreal. Their deaths hadn’t sunk in, and Calum doubted they ever would. He’d stared at his nan in a state of disbelief when she’d informed him: ‘Your mum’s gone to heaven to look after your brother, boy. Your dad, me, and the rest of the family will take care of you and Regan from now on. A promise that is, an’ all. You’ll want for nothing; I’ll make sure of that.’