Czytaj książkę: «Payback»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Kimberley Chambers

About the Publisher

Prologue

Whistling ‘Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah’, Trevor Thomas felt as happy as a pig in shit as he walked the mile-long journey from the pub to his mother’s house.

As a lad, Trevor had never truly appreciated the sights, smells, atmosphere, or community spirit of the East End of London. But after years of living in Yorkshire, he sure did now. Had it not been for his good fortune on the football pools, Trevor would probably still be stuck in a loveless marriage in Leeds. Twenty-four thousand pounds was a hell of a lot of money and there was no way that miserable, greedy, nasty bitch he had got saddled with was going to get her mucky paws on his windfall. Leaving his four kids behind was a small price to pay if it meant him keeping all the money to himself. Only his mum knew about it. She had hidden it under her floorboards to keep it away from prying eyes.

What Trevor did not realize as he stopped to chat to an old pal before continuing his journey was that his run of good luck was about to come to a very abrupt and gory end.

Vinny and Michael Butler were sitting in a white Ford Transit van. Michael was in the back, Vinny in the passenger seat as though he were waiting for the driver of the vehicle to return. Both were wearing dark hooded tracksuits to hide their identities, and seeing as they only ever wore the finest designer suits and drove top-of-the-range cars, Vinny doubted even their own mother would recognize them.

‘This could be him now, bruv. Nope. Hold your horses, it isn’t.’

‘I hope he fucking hurries up, Vin, because our alibi will be blown sky high if he doesn’t.’

‘Stop panicking. We’ve got stacks of time. Like I told you, you’ve no need to get your hands dirty at all, Michael. Hold up! Speak of the devil and it appears.’

Still whistling the song he could not get out of his head, Trevor spotted the two tall men in hooded tracksuits leap out of the van. Apart from wondering if they were boxers who had been training at the gym, he thought little of it until they grabbed him from behind.

Before Trevor could shout for help, tape was placed over his mouth and he was chucked into the back of the van like a roll of old carpet. As one man expertly tied him up, the other leapt into the front and drove the van away.

Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and shock, Trevor now wished he had listened to his mother’s words of wisdom. ‘As much as I love and miss you, it’s not safe for you to be living back in the East End, son. That Vinny Butler is a real force to be reckoned with now, and he won’t have forgotten what you did to him. He isn’t the type of man to let bygones be bygones.’

As the van trundled along, Trevor shuddered as his abductor took his hood down. Vinny had been fifteen, Trevor nineteen, when he had eloped to Leeds with Yvonne. But even at such a young age, Vinny had already carved out a fearsome reputation back then. That was why Yvonne had insisted they left the area. How Trevor now wished he had never clapped eyes on Yvonne Summers.

‘Not the greatest choice of song for you to be whistling, was it, Trevor? Because, my oh my, your day is going to be anything but fucking wonderful,’ Vinny chuckled as he ripped the tape from his victim’s mouth.

It was quite dark inside the back of the van and it wasn’t until Vinny switched on a big static torch like the ones workmen used that Trevor could properly see the man whose girlfriend he had stolen all those years ago. With his mop of thick black hair Brylcreemed back, and his menacing eyes that were a piercing shade of bright green, Vinny looked even scarier in the light than the dark.

‘What you gonna do to me? Please don’t hurt me, Vinny, I beg you. I know what I did was wrong and I am very sorry, but I swear if you let me out of this van, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll even move away again, if that’s what you want. On my mother’s life, I will.’

Vinny could not help but grin. He had waited years for this moment, and intended to enjoy every second of it. Trevor had lost all of his hair, had yellow teeth, and reminded Vinny of a fly stuck to one of those sticky tape traps his mum had in her conservatory that was desperately trying to untangle itself. ‘If I was a forgiving man, I would let you jump out of this van right now. Unfortunately for you, Trevor, I am not.’

‘Please, Vinny, I’m beggin’ you not to hurt me. It will be the end of my mum if you do. She has a lot of respect for your mum and aunt, you know. She was gutted over Roy and Lenny’s deaths – she’s ordered some lovely flowers for their funerals. And I remember your dad well. I used to buy my cigarettes and booze off him once upon a time,’ Trevor gabbled.

‘So, where is the slag now? Did you marry the manipulative deceitful whore?’ Vinny spat. Yvonne Summers had been his first and only true love. Two years older than him she was, but even at fifteen, Vinny had known how to earn a bob or two and had treated that girl like a princess. Jewellery, clothes, hats, shoes – he had lavished Yvonne with expensive gifts. And how had she repaid him? By running off with the skinny little weasel of a man who was currently snivelling while resembling a trussed-up turkey.

Tears of pure fright streaming down his cheeks, Trevor nodded. ‘Yeah, we got married and had four kids. Yvonne is still in Leeds, I think. I can give you the address if you want?’

‘So, what you doing back here?’

‘We split up and I had nowhere else to go. If you want Yvonne back, you can have her, Vinny. I don’t mind, honest.’

‘Want her back! You having a laugh at my expense, Trevor? Wrong words, mate, wrong words,’ Vinny spat. He opened the tool bag next to him and pulled out a pair of pliers.

‘No, please God, no,’ Trevor screamed, wetting himself with fear as Vinny inserted the pliers into his mouth.

Vinny was no qualified dentist and as Trevor’s screams echoed around the van, Michael winced and turned the volume of the radio up.

By the time the Butlers reached their destination, a narrow rural lane that led to nothing but a metal gate in East Hanningfield, Vinny was splashed with blood, and after passing out Trevor was now untied, awake again and rolling about the floor in obvious agony.

‘Stop crying, you fucking wuss. Man up,’ Vinny ordered, giving his now toothless victim a sharp kick in the head.

Michael parked up next to the Datsun Cherry they’d left there that morning. Even the full volume of the radio had not been able to drown out Trevor’s howls.

‘Let’s just get the job finished, Vinny. The quicker we get away from here and back to Whitechapel, the better.’

Vinny took the small axe out of the tool bag. ‘You better go for a walk for five minutes, Michael. I doubt you have the stomach to watch what I am about to do.’

‘Don’t be insinuating I’m some pussy, Vinny. If I was, I wouldn’t be here with you. Just do what you’ve got to do, and get your skates on.’

Trevor was in too much pain to scream when Vinny dragged him out of the van by the legs. Instead, he whimpered like an injured dog and curled up in a foetal position, covering his head with his hands. He now knew how animals must feel when they were being led inside the slaughterhouse, and he just wanted death to come quickly so the pain would go away.

Vinny Butler had a different plan. In some countries it was classed as normal to chop the hands off thieves. ‘Be a good boy now, Trevor. Hold your right hand out for Uncle Vinny.’

Sobbing his heart out, Trevor did as he was told. His mother and his winnings flashed through his mind. He was never going to get the chance to spend that now, was he? And he would never see his kids again.

‘Sure you wanna watch this, David?’ Vinny joked. Michael bore a strong resemblance to the popstar David Essex. Even had the same cheeky grin. Vinny had thought it hilarious when his brother got chased down Petticoat Lane market by a crowd of screaming tourists the previous Sunday.

Michael did not want to watch what Vinny was about to do, but there was no way he was going to admit that. ‘Just fucking hurry up, will you? And if you ever call me David again, I’ll be pulling your teeth out with pliers.’

Trevor let out a blood-curdling scream as the axe tore into his wrist, then seemed to lose consciousness.

‘Those thieving hands of yours had to come off, didn’t they, Trevor? Won’t be stealing anybody’s girlfriend now, will you? Nobody messes with me, and I mean nobody,’ Vinny hissed, his face spattered with his victim’s blood.

Trying not to throw up, Michael felt a shiver travel down his spine as he heard the rustling of nearby leaves. ‘Did you hear that noise, Vin? I heard something coming from the bushes.’

‘Probably a hedgehog or a fox. This axe is shit. It’s blunt,’ Vinny complained, as he continued to hack away at Trevor’s flesh.

Averting his eyes from what reminded him of a scene out of a horror film, Michael heard another noise, turned around and nearly shit himself as two pairs of eyes met his. ‘Jesus fucking wept! I nearly had a heart attack then. There’s cows watching us, Vinny.’

‘Well, I doubt they’ll be ringing the Old Bill to give a statement,’ Vinny replied, laughing at his own wit.

‘It ain’t funny, Vin. Giving me the heebies, this place is. Let’s set fire to the van and get out of here.’

Vinny glanced at Michael, a manic glint in his eyes. ‘Not until I’ve finished chopping the thieving cunt’s hands off. He needs to be taught a lesson, taking other people’s possessions.’

‘But he’s already dead by the looks of it. He isn’t going to know whether you chop his other hand off, is he? I tell you what, give me the poxy axe and I’ll do the honours. You sort out the fire – and whatever you do, don’t leave anything lying about.’

Unlike his brother, Michael had never murdered anyone and the bile rose in his throat as he heard a whimper come out of Trevor’s mouth then saw his eyes flicker open. ‘Oh Jesus,’ he mumbled, dropping the axe in horror. He then took a deep breath, reluctantly picked the axe back up and started to chop at the man’s left wrist. Vinny would never let him live it down otherwise.

Flesh and bone was harder to chop through than Michael had thought possible. But by the time Vinny had tidied up after them and doused the van in petrol, both hands had been severed and Trevor looked as dead as a dodo.

‘Put them teeth on the front seat, Michael, then clean yourself up and get changed. Just chuck everything in the back of the van,’ Vinny ordered.

As strong as an ox, Vinny lifted Trevor’s body into the back of the van by himself. He then chucked the hands and tools in, before joining his brother in getting cleaned up. They had come well prepared; the Datsun’s boot held soap, water, towels and a change of clothes.

‘Trevor’s still alive, you know. Amazing how people die from slitting their wrists, yet you can chop their hands off and they don’t die immediately,’ Vinny said.

‘Well, he won’t be alive for much longer. I’m gonna throw all this clobber in the back. Where’s your gloves? Check all round, bruv, make sure we haven’t left anything lying about.’

For the first time in his life, Vinny Butler wondered whether Michael might actually be in the same league as him. He’d always been closer to Roy, who’d been a great sibling and sound business partner, but had never really possessed that killer instinct – until it came to putting a bullet in his own brain. Today, however, Michael had surprised and impressed Vinny immensely.

Before Vinny lit the kingsize match, he gave a little sermon. ‘Bye bye, Trevor. I hope the slag was worth it. May your soul rot in hell, you pilfering worthless wanker.’

The explosion was clearly audible as Michael drove at top speed down the narrow lane. He glanced at his brother in the passenger seat. ‘What you gonna do with the teeth?’

Vinny grinned. ‘Flick them out the window along the A13. One by one, of course. Be a bit like when we used to flick pebbles at people as kids.’

It was twenty minutes before closing time when Vinny and Michael casually walked into the Blind Beggar. Both men were suited and booted and reeked of expensive aftershave as always.

‘Vinny, Michael, let me get you both a drink. Me and the missus were so upset to hear about your Roy and Lenny. Great lads, the pair of them, and they will be sorely missed,’ Big Stan said in a sombre tone.

Vinny and Michael rarely ventured into the Blind Beggar. As they had hoped, the pub was fairly busy and already they were the centre of attention with all eyes on their grand entrance. ‘I’ll get the drinks, Stan. Ask around and see who else wants one,’ Vinny said.

‘Who shall I ask?’

‘Everybody. Just tell ’em I’m buying.’

When Stan toddled off to obey orders, more well-wishers came over to speak to Vinny and Michael, including the landlord. ‘Afters isn’t a problem, lads. You just say the word if you fancy a late drink.’

‘Actually, that is very much appreciated. Been stuck in that club all day, me and Michael have, and after everything that’s happened, we’re currently sick of the sight of the place.’

It was a good ten minutes or so before Big Stan wandered back to inform Vinny that the round had come to eighty-seven quid. ‘It would have been cheaper, but Bobby Jackson ordered a pint for himself and his pal, plus a large chaser each,’ Stan added.

Seeing his brother’s eyes glint dangerously as he turned to see where Jackson was, Michael grabbed hold of him. ‘Not tonight, Vin. We’ve had enough drama for one day,’ he whispered.

‘Big Stan should never have asked him. It’s common knowledge that I hate the cunt.’

‘But you did say ask everyone, so you can’t blame Stan. It’s only a poxy drink.’

‘I’d like to go over there and ram that glass straight down the back of his throat,’ Vinny hissed.

‘I’m sure you’ll have other opportunities to do that. For the time being, let’s just forget about Jackson and chat nicely to the locals. That was the whole point of us coming in here, yeah? We need to act normal, you said. Well, that does not include ramming glasses down the customers’ throats, does it?’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Vinny replied. He then settled back to watch his brother charm the locals as though he did not have a care in the world.

After leaving East Hanningfield, they had dumped the Datsun not too far from Hackney Marshes, set fire to it, then jogged through Victoria Park in the second set of hooded tracksuits and trainers they had worn that day.

Nobody had seen them sneak into the back entrance of the club, and there was no way they could have been recognized while running through the park. They both had their hoods up the whole time and it was pitch-dark.

Sick of people rambling on about the funerals, Vinny led Michael over to a table. ‘I just want you to know that I really appreciate what you did for me today and I won’t forget it. You’ve got a cool head on you, bruv. We are definitely cut from the same cloth.’

Michael shook his head. ‘I’m not like you, Vin, and I never will be. You thoroughly enjoyed yourself today – I didn’t. If you want the truth, I hated every second of it.’

‘So why did you agree to help me then?’

‘Because you’re my brother, and with Ahmed in hospital, you had nobody else to ask. Nobody you could trust, at any rate. As Mum always drummed into us, once a Butler always a Butler.’

CHAPTER ONE
Autumn 1976

Queenie Butler opened her front door and cursed the latest downpour. The hottest summer on record was now just a distant memory, but the weather was the least of Queenie’s problems.

‘Don’t put that up in here. You always said it was unlucky to put a brolly up indoors,’ Brenda reminded her mother.

Glaring at her daughter, Queenie ignored her wishes. ‘As if we could be any more bastard well unlucky, Bren. Our family has had the heart ripped out of it already, so excuse me for not being overly superstitious these days.’

‘Where you going?’

‘To check on Vivvy again, and while I’m gone I want you to have a bath, young lady. You ain’t seen soap or water for three days, you dirty little mare. I expect Roy and Lenny’s send-off to be perfect tomorrow – which includes you making an effort to smarten yourself up.’

Umbrella in hand, Queenie made the short journey to her sister’s house next-door-but-one. She let herself in with her own key. ‘Cooey. Where are you, Viv?’ Queenie fully expected her sister to be sitting in the lounge staring aimlessly out of the window as she had been for the past few days since hearing about the car crash that had killed her only son.

‘I’m up here.’

Queenie hurried up the stairs and found Vivian in Lenny’s room, sorting through his things. ‘What you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m clearing Lenny’s room out. The dustmen come in the morning.’

Shaking her head in disbelief, Queenie sat down on the edge of Lenny’s bed. Her nephew’s nickname had been Champ and how very apt that had been. Starved of oxygen at birth, Lenny had overcome his disabilities and grown into a fine young man. His mental age might have been less than his years, but that hadn’t stopped Lenny being loved by everybody. He really had been a special lad. ‘Viv, please don’t chuck his stuff away, love. You’re not thinking rationally at the moment and I know you’re going to regret what you’re doing. Why don’t we go downstairs and have a nice cup of tea, eh?’

Ignoring her sister’s suggestion, Vivian yanked open a drawer and angrily tipped the contents onto the floor. Mumbling obscenities, she then began to put her son’s belongings into a dustbin liner.

Queenie’s eyes welled up. ‘Viv, I really need you to snap out of this silly behaviour. I’ve lost a son too, remember.’ Queenie had given birth to four children, and her middle son, Roy, was being laid to rest tomorrow after taking his own life. Wheelchair-bound since 1971 after a shooting outside the nightclub he owned, he’d suffered a miserable existence the last five years, finally ending it all by blasting himself in the head with a gun.

‘But you’ve got three other kids, and your grandchildren. Hardly the fucking same, is it?’ Vivian spat.

Queenie bowed her weary head. At forty-nine, she was three years older than Vivian. Both women were thin, had deep facial wrinkles due to their love of cigarettes and the sun, and with their dyed blonde hair and similar features, were often mistaken for twins rather than sisters. This past week, however, Queenie had felt as though she did not know her sister at all. Grief did strange things to people and Vivian was acting stranger than most.

‘How can you say such a thing, Vivvy? No matter how many kids or grandchildren I have, nothing takes the pain away of losing my Roy. I’m equally upset about Lenny, he was like a son to me too, but I watched my Roy suffer for years. At least your Lenny led a happy life.’

Her face contorted with anger, Vivian stood up and flew at her sister. ‘Get out! Go on, get out of my house.’

Being pushed and prodded was not something Queenie would usually allow, but she knew her sister didn’t mean it. It was the grief that was making her doolally. ‘Please let’s not argue. The funerals are tomorrow and our boys deserve the best send-off ever. If they’re looking down at me and you fighting, they’ll be devastated.’

‘Looking down! Looking fucking down! Don’t make me laugh, Queen. There is no bastard heaven. If God existed, why would he have taken my Lenny away from me, eh? It’s all a load of old bollocks.’

Desperate to give his brother and cousin the best send-off the East End had ever seen, Vinny Butler had spent the day preparing for the wake. The nightclub he part-owned with Michael had now been transformed into a shrine for their dearly departed.

Satisfied that his mum and aunt would approve of his handiwork, Vinny poured himself a drink and flopped onto one of the leather sofas. It had been three days since he and Michael had disposed of Trevor Thomas and there had not been any mention of a body being found or Trevor’s disappearance in the news.

Vinny grinned as his brother appeared. After the car accident that had killed Lenny, relations had been strained between himself and Michael, but thankfully carrying out their plan to kill Trevor seemed to have papered over those cracks. ‘You’re looking particularly dapper today, bruv. That another new suit?’

‘Yep. No flies on you, is there? This is the latest Savile Row addition to my ever-expanding wardrobe.’

Michael was five years Vinny’s junior. Both brothers had inherited their father’s jet-black hair, piercing green eyes and tall build. But they did not particularly look alike. Michael had a round face with a cheeky smile, whereas Vinny’s features were thinner and more chiselled, his lips usually twisted in a sinister smirk. They wore their hair in different styles as well. Michael used far less brylcreem and had what his mum referred to as a ‘short back and sides’. With their dark skin tone, both Vinny and Michael were often assumed to be of Italian or Irish descent, but as far as they knew, their ancestors had all been cockneys.

‘Well? Notice anything different?’ Vinny chuckled, indicating the numerous photos of Roy and Lenny that he’d had blown up to poster-size and displayed on the walls.

‘I don’t know, Vin. It’s a bit much, perhaps? Do Mum and Auntie Viv know you’ve done all this?’

‘No. I wanted it to be a surprise. Why shouldn’t we have photos of Roy and Champ on show? It is their special day. The one in the middle – I’m gonna keep that up after the funeral too.’

Michael stared at the photo Vinny was pointing at. It showed the three Butler brothers, and it was the last photo taken before Roy had got shot. They all had dark suits on and were smiling broadly, their arms draped around one another’s shoulders. It was a lovely photo, but it made Michael feel very sad. Feeling slightly lost for words, he was relieved when the phone started ringing, giving him an excuse to turn away. ‘I’ll get that,’ he said.

‘What’s up?’ Vinny asked, seconds later. He could tell by Michael’s face that something was wrong.

‘That was Ahmed. He’s out of hospital and wants to see you. He said to meet him at three at his house.’

Vinny felt the colour drain from his cheeks. This was the first time he had heard from Ahmed since the fateful night of the crash. The state Ahmed was in, Vinny thought he’d be burying his best mate as well as his cousin. ‘What exactly did he say?’

‘Not much. I got the distinct impression he didn’t really want to talk over the phone. I did tell him you were here, but he just said to meet him at three. What’re you gonna say to him, Vin? I hope he isn’t going to cause us grief. I’ve got Nancy and the boys to think of.’

‘I know far too much about Ahmed for him to cause us any grief, Michael. Anyway, he’s a mate and I’m sure once I explain things properly, he’ll understand why I did what I did,’ Vinny replied, sounding far more confident about the awkward situation than he actually felt.

Michael was worried. He was currently trying to win his wife back and another drama just might tip her over the edge. ‘But say he don’t understand, Vin?’

‘Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

Mary Walker brushed her husband’s lapels and gave him one final warning. Donald could be irritatingly cantankerous at times and, for Nancy’s sake, Mary was determined that today must go smoothly.

‘I have already promised you that I will be polite to the children, dear. But please do not expect me to welcome their criminal of a father into our home as well, because I just wasn’t raised that way.’

Sighing, Mary went to check on the buffet she had prepared. Her daughter’s choice of husband had caused no end of problems in her relationship with Donald over the years, and it wasn’t even poor Michael’s fault. It was his brother Vinny’s.

Back in 1965, Mary and Donald had fulfilled a lifelong ambition by opening up their own café, set in the heart of Whitechapel. Having spent every penny they had on purchasing and then refurbishing their dream, they worked hard to make a success of it. Business had been booming – until fate struck a terrible blow. Their son Christopher, who was only eight at the time, had witnessed a murder. The killing had been carried out by Vinny Butler, head of a local gangland family, and as soon as he realized that Christopher had witnessed the murder, he had threatened him and forced him to lie to the police.

Petrified for the safety of their children, Mary and Donald had fled Whitechapel one frosty Christmas Day. It had taken time to recover from the trauma of their ordeal, but they had thrown themselves into a new business venture, and moved on with their lives.

The past returned to haunt Mary and Donald in 1971. That was the summer when their beautiful daughter fell in love with Vinny’s younger brother, Michael. The lovebirds’ relationship had caused Mary nothing but grief ever since. Christopher was now a policeman, and he and Donald were dead against Nancy’s choice of husband.

‘How do I look, Mum? I feel ever so nervous, but I can’t thank you and Dad enough for doing this for me today. I miss my boys so much.’

Mary told her daughter she looked great and held her close to her chest. Nancy had been ill recently and had ended up in hospital. Being alienated from her father and brother while trying to bring up two kids of her own was bad enough, but when Michael insisted on taking in the son he’d had by a previous girlfriend it had proved too much for her delicate brain to cope with. That was why it had been decided that Daniel and Adam would spend their birthday at Mary and Donald’s home, where Nancy was currently recuperating.

‘I hope Dad loves the boys as much as you do, Mum,’ Nancy said, her voice full of hope.

Mary held her daughter’s face in her hands, forcing Nancy to look at her, and she smiled. Whereas she’d had contact with her grandsons since day one, Donald had never met them before. ‘Now, dry them eyes. Today is going to be a wonderful day, and if your father doesn’t love them boys as much as I do, I’ll eat my hat.’

Joanna Preston was feeling rather melancholy. The house that Vinny had bought was lovely, but its lack of furniture made it seem as cold and lonely as she felt. Tomorrow would be Joanna’s eighteenth birthday and for the first time since the shit had hit the fan, she realized just how much she missed her family. Her mum always made a big fuss of her on her birthday, but tomorrow Joanna wouldn’t be seeing or even speaking to her. Instead, she would be spending the day at a funeral for two men she didn’t even know.

Sipping her cup of tea, she allowed her mind to wander back to the summer. She had been working as a cleaner at a holiday park in Eastbourne when Vinny had appeared in her life and literally swept her off her feet. It really had been a case of love at first sight, but what Joanna hadn’t realized at the time was the bad blood between her family and Vinny’s. Her father was currently serving a fifteen-year prison sentence for shooting Vinny’s brother – the same brother who was being buried tomorrow. Jo had only been told the truth recently.

When her mother had learned of her romance, she’d hit the roof. Joanna had then been forced to make a decision. Her family or Vinny? She was so besotted, she’d chosen Vinny, and was now pregnant with their first child. Her mum had been devastated. She’d told Joanna that with her long blonde hair, slender body and beautiful blue eyes, she could get any lad she wanted. But Joanna did not want a lad. She wanted a man, and that man was Vinny.

Moving to Whitechapel had proved to be a bit of an eye-opener for Joanna. She had spent the early part of her life living in South London, but barely remembered that. Tiptree and Eastbourne were the only other two areas she had lived in, and Whitechapel was so very different. The air reeked, the pavements were littered with rubbish, there was graffiti everywhere you looked, and it was very multi-cultural.

‘You OK? Hasn’t that sofa come yet?’ Vinny asked, snapping Joanna out of her daydream.

‘No, it hasn’t. Vinny, when can I start work at the club?’

Vinny crouched down next to the armchair and began to sweet-talk Joanna. When she had been working at the holiday camp, he had promised her a job as his secretary. That offer had merely been intended to entice her to London. He didn’t love her; neither did he want her working for him. Their whole relationship was based on revenge. Vinny hated Joanna’s father with a passion and would do anything to get even for what he’d done to Roy. Absolutely anything.

Michael Butler felt as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he drove towards Nancy’s parents’ house. Being the only one, bar Ahmed, who knew that Vinny was responsible for Lenny’s death was preying on his mind. On top of that, his wife had temporarily left him, and he was currently trying to bring up his three sons alone. Trevor Thomas was another worry. Say he and Vinny had left some kind of evidence at the scene? A long prison sentence did not bear thinking about.

Thankfully, Lee was at school today. It was him moving into their family home that had tipped Nancy over the edge. Lee’s mum and gran had died in a car crash a few months ago, so the poor little sod had had nowhere else to go.

‘Dad, we want you to come to our birthday party with us, don’t we, Adam?’ Daniel said.

Michael bumped the car up on the kerb and switched the engine off. As fate would have it, both his sons were born on the very same day. Daniel was four today, Adam two, but there was no way Michael could join in the celebrations. Although they were yet to be properly introduced, Nancy’s father hated him.

Michael locked the car door, grabbed his sons by their tiny hands, and led them up the pathway. It was Mary who answered the door, as he guessed it would be. ‘Any chance I can have a quick word with Nance, Mary? I miss her so much.’

Mary squeezed her son-in-law’s hand. She liked Michael, she really did, but it had taken all her strength to force Donald to allow their grandsons into the house. She couldn’t push the issue any further by extending the invitation to Michael. ‘Not today, love, but Nancy is on the mend. I can promise you that she’ll be ready to see you again soon.’

Closing the door on Michael she led the boys through to the living room. Donald looked awkward as he came face to face with his grandsons for the very first time. Both were dressed in matching beige suits, had jet black hair, bright green eyes, and looked nothing like anybody in his family.

‘Are you our granddad? We’ve been wanting to meet you for ages. My name is Daniel and this is my brother Adam,’ Daniel said politely.

Donald Walker was not usually a man of emotion, but when his youngest grandson held his arm out in hope that his hand would be shook, Donald could not help but smile. He had always been a fan of impeccable manners. ‘Yes, I’m your granddad, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too.’

Watching the bonding session unfold before her, Mary shared a smug smile with her daughter. Daniel and Adam already had Donald eating out of the palms of their hands. Gone was her miserable-looking bolshy husband. In his place was a happy, loving grandfather.

Vinny Butler walked into the room and for the first time since the accident locked eyes with the best pal he had left for dead. Ahmed looked awful, wearing only pyjama bottoms his face and body was covered in cuts and bruises.

Ahmed glanced at Vinny, his face devoid of emotion, and then turned to his wife. ‘Make yourself scarce, Anna. Vinny and I have business to discuss.’

When Anna left the room, Vinny’s eyes welled up with pure guilt as he tried to explain his actions on that fateful night. ‘I am so fucking sorry, mate. No way would I have left you if I had thought you were still alive. I really thought you were a goner.’

‘Pour us both a Scotch, then I want you to tell me exactly what happened. I don’t remember anything about that evening at all,’ Ahmed lied. He could sense that Vinny was nervous and so the bastard should be. Making it awkward without being too nasty was exactly how Ahmed had planned this conversation.

Vinny took a large gulp of his drink. ‘Do you remember going to the whorehouse in Dalston?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well, me and you were three sheets to the wind when we got there. We’d been boozing all night at the club. Champ overheard us saying where we were going and begged to come with us. Anyway, we had a great time and I offered to drive your car home. I’d sobered up a bit by then. But as I was driving, some van came towards me with its full beam on. I was momentarily blinded, which is why I lost control. We smashed into a building, but it was the left-hand side of the car that took all the impact. That’s where you and Champ were both sitting.’

‘Carry on,’ Ahmed urged.

Reliving the awful experience was something Vinny would rather not be put through, but what choice did he have? A thorough explanation was the very least he owed Ahmed. ‘Well, I hit my head against the steering wheel and it dazed me for a minute or so. When I came to and looked at you, there was a big piece of metal sticking out of your chest and a small piece in your head. There was blood everywhere. I checked for a pulse and couldn’t find one, then I got out the car to see if Champ was OK. The crash had almost fucking beheaded him. It was awful, the worst thing I have ever seen in my life. I checked you over once more before I left the scene, but I was positive you were dead. I would never have left you to die, you have to believe that, mate.’

Ahmed took a sip of his drink. He had nearly died and had only got out of hospital the previous day. ‘So, was you thinking straight when you legged it?’

‘My mind was all over the place. I was devastated, Ahmed, about you and Champ. It was like a bad fucking dream.’

‘What I cannot understand is how a devastated man would move his best pal’s body into the driver’s seat to avoid taking the rap himself. That is a callous, cowardly act in my eyes.’

‘I just panicked. It weren’t the Old Bill I was bothered about, it was my mum and aunt finding out I’d been driving the motor. If they thought it was me who’d killed Champ, they would both disown me. What did you say to the filth? I wouldn’t blame you if you dobbed me in it. It’s no more than I deserve.’

Ahmed chuckled. ‘I am not a grass, Vinny. It was my car that was written off and I was found behind the steering wheel, so you wasn’t even a suspect.’

‘Have you been charged with anything?’

‘No. I had internal bleeding, therefore needed an emergency operation. I was questioned, but there was no proof I had been drinking because my blood test ended up on the missing list.’

‘Well, I’ll buy you a new car obviously, and thanks for not saying anything. My mum and aunt are absolutely broken-hearted as it is. Roy’s dead as well. Shot himself in the head right in front of me. This past week has been the worst of my life.’

‘It’s not exactly been my best, Vinny.’

‘I know it hasn’t, mate. So, what happens now? I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my business partner any more,’ Vinny said. Michael was his partner in the legit business, the nightclub, but Ahmed had been his partner in the drug trade. Thanks to their astute business brains the two of them had built up quite an empire over the past few years, and the bulk of heroin and cocaine currently available on the streets of London was their merchandise.

Ahmed forced a smile at the man he now hated so very much. ‘I was not happy that you left me for dead but now you have explained yourself, I can understand why you did what you did. I am willing to let bygones be bygones.’

Relieved, Vinny hugged his pal. ‘I will make it up to you, I swear.’

‘I know you will. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m very tired and could do with some sleep. When is Champ’s funeral, by the way? Such a shame, he was a good kid.’

Vinny nodded, his face etched with grief. ‘The funeral is tomorrow. We’re having a joint one, burying Champ and Roy together.’

‘What time and where?’

‘The service is at St Leonard’s at two. You can’t come though, mate. You don’t look well enough and my mum and aunt will go apeshit if they see you there. They think you were driving, remember?’

‘And what about Michael?’

‘He knows the truth. I told him it was me.’

‘Well, that’s OK then. I loved Champ, Vinny, and I am determined to pay my respects to him. I don’t care if your mum and aunt hate my guts. I and God know that Lenny’s death had sod all to do with me, remember?’

Aware that Ahmed was being sarcastic, Vinny shrugged. ‘OK, but try and stay out of my mum and aunt’s way. I’ll smooth things over in time, but it’s all too raw at the moment.’

When Vinny said goodbye and shut the door, Ahmed smirked. He had no intention of staying away from Queenie and Vivian. He intended to make life as difficult for Vinny as he possibly could from now on. As for the Judas cunt thinking he had been forgiven, there was more chance of hell freezing over than that ever happening.

Thanks to Vinny, he had endured internal bleeding, three broken ribs and forty-two stitches in his face and stomach. Scars would heal, but Vinny’s betrayal wouldn’t. Every time he looked at those scars, Ahmed would be reminded of what his so-called best friend and business partner had done to him.

When Ahmed had first woken up and learned what had happened, his head and heart felt weighed down with feelings of shock and disappointment. Not any more though. Over the past few days, those feelings had been replaced by fury and an urge to get even.

Vinny Butler had disrespected him in the worst possible way. Moving his body into the driver’s seat, then leaving him for dead was an act of evil that Ahmed could never forgive or forget.

Ahmed grinned as he laid his head back on the pillow. The five most important things in Vinny’s life were money, his liberty, reputation, mother and son. Now, what should Ahmed take away from him first? Decisions, decisions …

CHAPTER TWO

On the morning of her son and nephew’s funerals, Queenie was woken up by the sound of torrential rain pounding against her window. ‘Poxy bastard weather,’ she mumbled as she pulled back the curtain. Funerals were miserable enough occasions at the best of times, but there was nothing worse than standing at a graveside in the rain.

Queenie Butler marched into her daughter’s bedroom and yanked the blankets from over her head. It was nine days since Brenda’s husband had left her. Dean had gone out for a newspaper one morning and had not come back. It had since come to light that he had cleaned out his bank account that very day. Unable to face life as a one-parent family, Brenda had moved into Queenie’s with her four-year-old daughter Tara. Both were high maintenance and loved a tantrum, and Queenie just wished they would sod off home.

‘Out of that pit and get yourself ready – and don’t forget to wear your cross,’ Queenie ordered. She and Vivian loved their gold, and always wore their big gold crosses supported by thick belcher chains for funerals, weddings and christenings in hope of impressing the vicar.

‘I don’t feel well, Mum. I feel sick again. Can’t I stay here and look after Tara?’

Brenda had only had her pregnancy confirmed by the doctor the previous day. Dean had really left her in the lurch and if Queenie ever got her hands on her son-in-law, she would wring his scrawny neck.

‘Don’t give me all that old flannel. You get your arse out that bed now, and make yourself look tidy. Not attend your own brother and cousin’s funerals? Never heard such cobblers in my life. Selfish little mare you are, Brenda. Well, today isn’t about you, it’s about Roy and Lenny, and if you don’t do me proud, I shall disown you.’

About to run a bath, Queenie heard a noise outside and looked out of the window again. ‘What the bleedin’ hell’s she doing now?’ she muttered. Vivian was dragging what looked like Lenny’s bedside cabinet up the garden path, and making quite a racket as she did so.

Putting on her shoes and coat, Queenie ran downstairs and out the front door. ‘Whatever are you doing? It’s not even six o’clock yet. You’ll wake the neighbours up, and you’ll catch pneumonia in this weather.’

‘I’m putting Lenny’s stuff out for the dustmen. Not going to be needing it any more, is he?’

Queenie stared at her sister. When they had first learned about Lenny’s death, Vivian had cried and wailed like an injured animal, but since then she had shown hardly any emotion. She had barely mentioned the funeral and Queenie found it very odd that she wanted to chuck all the poor little sod’s belongings away. There was no way she could part with anything of her Roy’s. ‘Viv, there’ll be flowers arriving soon. Leave sorting out Lenny’s belongings until after the funeral. If you still want to get rid of them, I’ll get one of the boys to take the stuff to the dump for you.’

‘I wish you’d stop telling me what to fucking do, Queen,’ Vivian spat, dumping two cardboard boxes full of toys next to her sister’s feet.

Queenie looked down and immediately felt a lump in her throat. Zippy the monkey had been Lenny’s favourite toy. He had carried it everywhere with him as a kid, and had always slept with it in his bed until the day he died. Queenie picked the toy up. No way was she going to allow her sister to throw that away. It should be buried with Lenny.

Michael was shocked to receive an early morning phone call from his wife. It was the first time they had spoken since Nancy had been taken into hospital. She had wandered out one evening in her nightdress and slippers and had been found by a man in an alleyway the following morning. The doctors had suggested that Nancy’s odd behaviour could be down to post-natal depression, but seeing as Adam was now two, Michael found that hard to understand.

‘Nance, I’ve really missed you, babe. The boys had a great time yesterday and were full of it when they came home. They didn’t stop talking about their granddad, so I take it it all went well?’

‘Yes, it went very well. My dad adored them, and I’m ever so pleased. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. How are you? I was so sorry to hear about your brother and Lenny. When are their funerals?’

‘Today. Will you come with me, Nance? My mum and aunt are both in a dreadful way and I could really do with your support.’

Nancy sighed. She had only just started to feel like her old self again, and didn’t fancy spending time with Michael’s family yet. Vinny had a way of making her feel anxious, and Brenda would be bound to kick off with her over Dean going away. ‘I’m sorry, Michael, but I don’t feel up to attending funerals. I will look after the boys for you though. Mum said you were taking them with you and I’d rather you didn’t. They’re far too young to be surrounded by death.’

Michael was cross. He had cared for his sons almost single-handed these past couple of months. It also hurt him that Nancy had only called because she had wanted to have Daniel and Adam for the day. Did she not love him any more? Was their marriage over? Well, there was only one way to find out. An ultimatum should do the trick. ‘Nance, I cannot believe what you just said. “I will look after the boys for you” – have you forgotten you’re their mother? Look, I know you’ve been ill and I sympathize with that, but now you’re feeling better, you need to have a think about us. I’ll give you a week to get your arse back home, and if you don’t, I shall start divorce proceedings. Our sons are unsettled enough as it is at the moment and I won’t allow you to keep fucking them about. They miss you, I miss you, and you should be back at home where you belong. You can’t hide behind your parents for ever. As for the funeral, the boys are coming with me, end of. It’s not fair on Lee if they don’t.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bad mum and wife, but I have been really ill,’ Nancy replied, her voice full of emotion.

‘No, you haven’t been ill, Nance, you’ve been depressed. Two different things, so my mum reckons. Don’t you think I get depressed too? My cousin has just been beheaded in a car crash, Roy has blown his brains out, and I’m currently trying to run a business and bring up three kids on my own. Do you wanna swap fucking places? Listen, I’ve got to go now. I need to get round my mum’s and the boys haven’t had any breakfast yet. I meant what I said though, Nance. You’ve got a week to make up your mind, or we’re finished.’

Joanna Preston held Vinny’s arm as they strode towards Queenie’s house. It had been her boyfriend’s idea that she ring her mum this morning. He had said that her eighteenth birthday was as good a time as any to try and patch things up. He’d also insisted she tell her mum that she was pregnant.

‘You OK? Shame your mum went off on one, but she will come round in time you know,’ Vinny said. He had been dying for Johnny Preston to find out that he had got his daughter up the spout. Deborah was bound to tell him the news, and Vinny only wished he could be there to see the look on the bastard’s face.

‘Are all these people here for the funeral, Vinny?’ Joanna asked, as they turned the corner. There was a crowd of about a hundred or so.

‘Yeah, must be. Bit early they are, though. I hope they haven’t knocked on my mum’s door. I told them to leave her be,’ Vinny replied. His mother had insisted that, apart from family, she wanted nobody inside the house.

The flowers spread across his mum and aunt’s front gardens brought a lump to Vinny’s throat. The wreath he had chosen, with ‘Champ’ spelled out, was that big it literally shone out like a beacon.

Little Vinny was ten years old and with his black hair and piercing green eyes it was like looking at his father at the same age. Unfortunately for Queenie, her grandson had picked up many of Vinny’s traits. He was obstinate, had a temper on him, and once he got a bee in his bonnet, there was very little reasoning with the child.

‘I’ll say this once more, Vinny. Get upstairs and put your suit on before I brain ya. I really don’t need you performing today, boy. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.’

When Little Vinny didn’t move out of the armchair, Queenie was moving in to give him a good clout round the earhole when she heard the front door open and close. ‘About bloody time too. I’ve had all them nosy bastards out there knocking on the door, and now your son reckons he isn’t coming to the funeral,’ Queenie told Vinny.

Ordering Joanna to keep his mum company in the kitchen, Vinny walked into the lounge and shut the door. ‘What’s the matter, boy?’

‘Don’t like funerals. They remind me of my mum dying.’

Vinny crouched next to his son. Little Vinny had barely known his mother. Karen had been a stripper at the club when she’d fallen pregnant by Vinny. He’d paid her off and brought his son up with the help of his mum. When Little Vinny was five, Karen had turned up on his doorstep like a bad penny. He’d had her done away with, ordering that her murder be made to look like a heroin overdose. ‘Look, boy, I know you aren’t happy about me being with Joanna and her being pregnant, but I bet once your brother or sister is born, you’ll be in your element.’

‘No, I won’t. I hate babies,’ Little Vinny replied, his lip protruding sulkily.

‘But it won’t stay a baby for long. It will soon be old enough for you to talk to and take out. I remember sulking when your nan fell pregnant with Roy. I wanted to be the only kid. When Roy was born, I soon grew to love him – and you’ll be the same when Jo’s baby is born. You’re my first-born, Vinny, and you’re always going to be more special to me than any other kid.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. I’ve always been closer to Nanny than Roy, Michael or Brenda were, and that’s because I was her first-born. Number one son you are, boy. Very special that is.’

When Little Vinny grinned, Vinny ruffled his hair. ‘Now, go and put your suit on.’

Vivian Harris took one last look inside Lenny’s old bedroom and shut the door. It looked bare and cold now, just like her heart felt. The dustmen must have taken away his stuff because she’d looked out of the window an hour ago and it was gone. A mass of flowers had replaced her son’s belongings.

Hearing voices outside, Vivian peeked through the curtain again. ‘Nosy fucking bastards. Go away and leave me alone,’ she muttered. She had only ever been interested in her family. In her eyes, nobody else mattered.

Aware that somebody was staring up at her, Viv jumped away from the curtain. She poured herself another brandy and lay down on her bed. As soon as her pest of a sister left for the funeral, she planned to fall asleep and never wake up. Lenny needed her, he always had, and she was determined to be there in heaven for him. That’s if the bastard place existed, of course.

When Michael arrived, Queenie Butler battled her way through the well-wishing mourners to get to her sister’s house. Vivian had insisted on being left alone earlier and had promised she would knock at Queenie’s as soon as the coffins arrived. She hadn’t. Queenie put her key in the door, but the chain was on. ‘Viv, it’s me. Let me in.’

When she still received no reply, Queenie started to get angry. ‘Vivvy, open this bastard door now,’ she yelled.

Aware of Nosy Hilda and Mouthy Maureen staring at her, Queenie pushed past the gawping mourners and marched back to her own house. ‘Vinny, you’re going to have to do something. Viv’s locked herself in and she won’t answer the door. It’s all your fault for fitting that poxy chain lock, so best you sort it. What with your sister and son, I’ve had enough drama for one day.’

Vinny snatched the key off his mum, then darted next door. ‘Auntie Viv, come and take this lock off please. We have to leave soon, the cars are here.’

After five minutes of begging his aunt to answer the door and receiving no reply, Vinny took a couple of steps back and booted the door open. He looked in the lounge first, then ran up the stairs.

‘Go away and leave me alone,’ Vivian screamed when her bedroom door flew open.

‘What you doing, still in bed? We have to leave in a minute. Why aren’t you dressed?’ Vinny asked.

‘Because I ain’t coming. Nothing is going to bring my Lenny back. Why would I want all them nosy cunts out there gawping at me, revelling in my misfortune?’

Clocking the bottle of brandy on Vivian’s bedside cabinet, Vinny sighed. Only his mother could sort this one out and she was going to go apeshit when she found out Viv was sloshed. He ran back to his mum’s, drew her aside and told her, ‘Viv reckons she isn’t coming to the funeral. She’s still in bed and she’s slurring. I think she’s pissed.’

Queenie Butler was out the door like a bat out of hell. Her black hat flew off in a gust of wind as she ran down the path, but she did not stop to retrieve it. First Brenda playing up, then her grandson and now Vivvy. Did the selfish bastards not realize that she was grieving too?

‘Is everything all right, Queenie?’ asked Nosy Hilda.

‘Mind your own fucking business for once,’ Queenie snapped, barging past her open-mouthed neighbour. She ran up her sister’s stairs and into the bedroom. ‘You are going to the funeral even if I have to drag you there. Now, get your arse out of bed and get a grip woman.’

‘I can’t face it, Queen. My Lenny knew I loved him, so did Roy. I don’t have to go to no funeral to prove that to anyone.’

Queenie ripped the blankets off her sister just as she had with her daughter earlier. ‘Now, you listen to me, Vivian Harris. Get out of that bed and get yourself dressed. It’s unheard of in our neck of the woods for a woman to miss her own child’s funeral – and may God be my judge, you ain’t gonna be the first. We’re the talk of the town as it is, what with Vinny having to kick your front door in. I will not have our boys’ funerals become a laughing stock, not on your nelly. Now, up you bloody well get.’

Albie Butler could feel his heart beating like a drum as he approached St Leonard’s church. He hadn’t spoken to Vinny since his son had threatened to kill him and he was also on bad terms with Queenie and Viv. Even his daughter and eldest grandson hated his guts.

‘What’s up, Albie?’ Bert asked, when his brother stopped in his tracks.

‘Let’s wait here. Big Stan is standing outside the church and I know he’ll kick off if he sees me. I told him I had cancer that time and he bought me drinks and bunged me money,’ Albie explained, truly regretting his terrible lie. He had only told his family and neighbours he had cancer so he could have contact with his children again. His deceit had backfired though. Vinny had found out and tried to blackmail him, and when Albie refused to get involved in his son’s evil plan to ruin Roy’s engagement, Vinny had outed his lie in front of half of Whitechapel.

‘The funeral cars have arrived by the looks of it, Albie. Let’s go and find your Michael. He won’t allow anybody to have a go at you.’

Albie still had a good relationship with his youngest son. When Vinny had forced him to leave the East End, it was Michael who had driven him down to Ipswich to start his new life. Moving in with Bert had been a blessing. Albie had cut down his drinking and really sorted his life out. He had even met a lovely lady. Dorothy now lived with him and Bert and she was an absolute diamond. She treated him with far more respect than Queenie ever had. His marriage to Queenie had been doomed as soon as she had fallen pregnant. From the moment Vinny was born, Vivian had taken over his husbandly duties and he had been pushed out of the family circle like an unwanted bag of old rubbish.

‘Dad, I’ve spoken to Mum and Vinny and they’ve agreed that it’s only right you sit in the front pew with us,’ Michael said, hugging his worried-looking father.

‘Thank you, Michael.’ Albie’s eyes filled up with tears and he was too choked to say more. He had loved Roy and was so glad his son had taken the trouble to phone him before ending his life. Their conversation had been relatively short, but bridges had been built, truths had been told, and that meant the world to Albie.

The actual service was a far cry from the typical East End funeral. Both Queenie and Vivian regularly visited their mother’s grave and spoke to her as though she were still alive, but neither was particularly religious. Their lives and luck had taken far too much of a bashing for them to truly believe in God. When the vicar had visited her at home to make arrangements, Queenie had insisted that the pianist play songs rather than hymns.

‘Bye Bye Blackbird’ was the song she had sung to all her children to get them to sleep when they were babies, so seeing as her Roy was now asleep for ever, it seemed an appropriate choice. Lenny was a big Elvis fan, so Queenie had chosen ‘The Wonder of You’ especially for her nephew. Vivian had been in no fit state to have any input into the playlist, but Queenie was sure her sister would have opted for the same song, as it had been Lenny’s all-time favourite. ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’ was Queenie’s final request. Both she and Vivian loved that song and had taught it to their offspring, so Queenie saw it as a fitting family tribute.

Vinny locked eyes with his father as he sat down in the pew and gave him a polite nod. Michael had agreed to cover up that it was Vinny who had been driving the night Lenny was killed on condition that he promised to make things right with their dad. Roy had requested the same thing in his suicide note, and Vinny knew he owed it to his brothers to abide by their wishes.

‘Today we are here to remember the lives of Roy Butler and Leonard William Harris,’ the vicar’s voice boomed.

Squeezing Vivian’s hand, Queenie glanced down the pew. Albie, Vinny, Michael and Little Vinny all had tears rolling down their cheeks. Roy’s ex-fiancée and her parents were seated in the opposite pew. Colleen was sobbing, but Queenie was annoyed with her. Roy’s only child, Emily-Mae, was four now and she had wanted the girl to attend her father’s funeral but Colleen had rebuffed the request. Queenie hadn’t seen her granddaughter since Colleen had returned to her native Ireland, and she had been desperate to tell the child what a wonderful man her daddy was.

‘God! What fucking God?’ Vivian muttered as the vicar began sermonizing about the afterlife.

‘Shush, Viv. Your voice carries and people can hear you,’ Queenie whispered.

‘Couldn’t give a toss what people think. No God would have taken my boy from me. That’s how I know he don’t fucking exist.’

When the pianist played ‘The Wonder of You’, Vivian’s anger turned to anguish. ‘My baby. My beautiful boy. Mummy loved you so much, Lenny. You were my world.’

Vinny bowed his head when the vicar recited the Lord’s Prayer. He had begged his brother to give a eulogy on behalf of the family, but Michael had flatly refused. ‘Accidental or not, both Roy and Champ would still be alive if it wasn’t for your mistakes, Vin. The least you owe them is to stand up, be a man, and say a few words,’ had been Michael’s blunt reply.

After the prayer, the vicar called Vinny up to speak. Feeling physically sick, he took the piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at the sea of faces all staring his way. The church was packed to the brim. ‘My brother Roy and cousin Champ were two of the nicest people you could ever wish to meet. Both had a wicked sense of humour, especially Champ, who would have me in hysterics every day with his off-the-cuff one-liners and jokes.’

Knowing he was about to mug himself off by crying, Vinny paused. As he took a deep breath to try and compose himself, he locked eyes with Ahmed and knew he could not continue. Guilt would not allow him to do so. ‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry,’ Vinny said, handing the piece of paper to the vicar.

When her tearful son sat back down, Queenie bravely stood up. ‘I would like to say a few words and I don’t need no piece of paper.’

She turned to face the mourners. ‘Roy and Lenny’s passing has left a huge gap in all our lives, but instead of being morbid, I want to share with you some of the good times. Roy was a finicky little sod as a kid, would never eat his vegetables. I tried the old clout-round-the-earhole routine and, when that didn’t work, I threatened to put him in the orphanage. Soon ate his greens after that, he did.’

Queenie paused as the mourners chuckled. She then went on to tell other funny stories about her son, before reverting to a serious tone of voice. ‘The happiest I had ever seen my Roy was when he met Colleen. Loved the bones of her, he did, and I am so glad they had a beautiful daughter together. In Emily-Mae, part of my Roy will always live on, and that is a great comfort to me. Due to his injuries, my son was not happy in the latter part of his life and I like to think he is in a better place now, God rest his soul.’

‘And I hope he’s looking after my Lenny for me,’ a sobbing Vivian shouted out.

‘Of course he is, Vivvy. You can be assured of that. Which brings me to Lenny. Such a wonderful boy, whose smile could light up a room. Never stopped laughing, that lad. I bet he’s looking down on me now, begging me to tell some funny stories about him. Well, Champ – as my boys liked to call him – was a brilliant little DJ, but he would drive me and his mother mad at home by continuously playing rock ’n’ roll. Thought he was Mr Presley himself, the little toerag did, and I bet as soon as God opens those pearly gates, Lenny’s first question to the big man above will be, “Where’s Elvis?”’

Aware that all her family were crying yet laughing at the same time, Queenie continued: ‘Another of Lenny’s bad habits was he used to flop his dingle-dangle out in public. Vivvy used to get so embarrassed and Lenny would look at me with a twinkle in his eye and I knew he only did it to wind his mother up. Used to flash at people he did not like, so if anybody here today had the misfortune of coming face to face with Lenny’s dingle-dangle, sorry, but you obviously was not one of my nephew’s favourite people.’

Queenie told two more funny stories, then wrapped her speech up by saying, ‘Rest in peace, Roy and Lenny. Your family loved you both very much.’

The service came to a close with ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’ and it was then that Queenie finally broke down. She had tried to be so strong for the sake of her sister and family, but the tears she had been storing seemed to all flow out at once.

Vinny held his mother close to his chest. Her shoulders were hunched like those of a much older woman, and it was as though she had aged ten years in the past ten days. All he could do was stroke her hair and tell her, ‘I know it’s terribly sad, Mum, but Roy will be happier in heaven, I know he will.’

Michael was the first to notice the criminal element amongst the mourners. As he left the church, he tapped Vinny on the shoulder. ‘Lots of faces here, bruv. I’ve just spotted the Mitchells, and I’m sure I saw David Fraser as well.’

The Mitchell firm, led by Harry Mitchell, were out of Canning Town. Harry’s three sons, Paulie, Ronny and Eddie worked alongside him in the pub protection racket, and over the years they had built up a fearsome reputation in the East End.

David Fraser was not a man to be messed with either. Son of Mad Frankie, who was currently banged up at Her Majesty’s pleasure, David came from south of the water. ‘That’s Sid the Snake who David is talking to. I know him quite well. You go and find the Mitchells, Michael, thank them for coming and invite them to the wake. I’ll do the same with David and Sid,’ Vinny ordered.

‘Vinny, why you faffing about here? We don’t want to keep the vicar waiting at the graveside,’ Queenie scolded. She had been bowled over by the wonderful flower arrangements Roy and Lenny had received. There had been hundreds of people standing in front of her house and a big crowd outside the club as the undertaker had walked in front of her dearly departed on their final journey.

‘You go ahead with Auntie Viv, Mum. Michael and I just need to speak to a few people, then we’ll follow.’

‘Well, don’t be too long. As I told you this morning, I expect this to be the perfect send-off.’

The moment the congregation reached the cemetery, Queenie’s wish for the perfect funeral was ruined.

It had been decided that Roy and Lenny would be buried side by side in Plaistow – Bow Cemetery having stopped burials a while back, thus scuppering Queenie and Vivian’s wish to have their sons buried close to their beloved mother. Among the mourners waiting for the cortege to arrive was Ahmed.

When Vivian spotted him, she stopped dead in her tracks. Ahmed was chatting to a couple of men, casually smoking a cigarette as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Who invited that murdering bastard? I’ll kill him! I will bastard-well kill him,’ she screamed as she ran towards him.

‘Ruined our lives, you have. Broken our hearts!’ Queenie shouted, joining Vivian in throwing punches at the man they blamed for Lenny’s death.

Humiliated because the Mitchells were standing nearby, Vinny grabbed hold of his mother and ordered Michael to restrain Vivian. ‘Ahmed loved Lenny, and he wanted to say farewell to him. What happened was an accident, Mum.’

‘Accident! An accident! I’ll give you fucking accident, sticking up for that murdering Turkish cunt,’ Queenie yelled, slapping her son repeatedly around his stupid head.

‘Ahmed, I think it’s best you leave now. This is meant to be a funeral and it’s turning into a circus,’ Michael said, aware that everybody including the vicar was gawping.

‘Let me at him! Let me at the evil murdering shitbag!’ Vivian shrieked, desperately trying to shrug off her nephew’s grip.

Ahmed held his hands up in surrender. ‘I wanted to pay my respects, but I shall leave now. I am sorry if I have upset anybody.’

With Vivian and Queenie still shouting obscenities in the background, Ahmed turned up the collar of his black Crombie coat and slowly walked away, smirking to himself.

Things went from bad to worse as the vicar said a few words after both coffins had been lowered into the ground.

‘What’s that? What you just thrown in my boy’s grave?’ Vivian hissed, prodding her sister’s arm.

‘Zippy the monkey. He loved that toy and you put it out for the dustmen. I thought it should be buried with him, Viv. It was always his comfort thingy.’

‘Noooo! You can’t bury Zippy! I want him. I want to keep him,’ Vivian shrieked. Shoving the vicar out of the way, she literally threw herself on top of her son’s coffin.

As every single mourner present stood frozen, open-mouthed, Queenie was the first to react. ‘Do something, Vinny. Get her out of that hole,’ she screamed.

Dutifully obeying his mother’s orders, Vinny wished the hole could be filled with earth with him in it. His brother and cousin’s expensive farewell had turned into a joke. One that the East End and criminal fraternity would dine out on for years.

CHAPTER THREE

Desperate to save face after such a public display in front of the vicar, Queenie made a point of putting on her poshest voice and personally inviting all of the neighbours back to the wake.

‘You can count me out, Queen. I’m in no mood to socialize. I just want to be on my own,’ Vivian told her sister, clutching Zippy the monkey tightly to her chest.

‘Hold that monkey normally please, Viv. People are staring at you. You are coming back to the club. Our neighbours must already reckon you’ve lost your marbles after the way you threw yourself on top of Lenny’s coffin, and if you don’t show your face at the wake, they’ll think you’ve lost the plot completely. Mouthy Maureen and Nosy Hilda will be the first to spread such rumours, you mark my words.’

‘Like I give a shit what any of the bastards think,’ Viv snarled.

‘Yes, you do. You’re just not thinking straight at the moment. We haven’t got to stay at the club long. But we do need to show our faces, especially after today’s little fiasco. That’s the least we can do for our sons’ memory,’ insisted Queenie in a tone that brooked no argument.

Not wanting the wake to be a sombre affair, Vinny had hired a band for the occasion. Max Bennett was an old timer when it came to the East End pub circuit, and he always encouraged punters – or in today’s case, mourners – to stand up and belt out a song or two.

The professional caterers had put on a nice display. As well as the usual buffet food, there was every type of seafood you could imagine, including a dozen big tubs of jellied eels.

‘Good idea of yours, getting Max in to sing, Vinny. I can’t believe the amount of people that turned up. I expected a big crowd, but not quite this big. The Davisons from Charlton are here, and Freddie the Fox,’ Michael informed his brother.

The Davisons were a very big crime family who ran a scrap-metal business in South London as a front for their illegal activities. Freddie the Fox was an ex-bank robber who originated from Whitechapel but had moved to the Costa del Sol after his latest prison sentence had ended. ‘I’ve already spoken to Freddie. Bowled over that he travelled all the way from Spain just for the funeral. I feel such a mug though that I couldn’t go through with the speech. And what with Mum and Auntie Viv’s performance at the graveside …’

Michael put a comforting arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘You should be proud of yourself today. I have never seen such a well-organized funeral in my life, and you arranged it all.’

‘Did you invite the Mitchells to the wake?’

‘Yeah, but they had some important business to attend to, so couldn’t make it. Nice of them to attend the funeral, though, eh? Proper respectful people.’

‘Old school, Michael. Eddie’s the one to look out for in the future. Very charismatic and has a good head on his shoulders, by all accounts. Much more feared than his brothers are, and his reputation is growing by the day.’

‘Did they know Roy personally?’

‘Only to say hello to. Roy and I bumped into Eddie, Paulie and Ronny in a bar once when you were just a kid. It was around the time we bought this gaff and they wished us good luck with it. Haven’t crossed paths with them much since then, but I did see Eddie in a restaurant once when I was with Karen. We exchanged pleasantries and that was it.’

‘Well, given the number of faces that turned up today, it just goes to show how highly regarded we are. Nobody is going to give a toss that you didn’t give a eulogy, nor will they care what happened at the graveside. Perfect families do not exist, especially in our world, Vinny. Just hold your head high and give yourself a pat on the back for giving Roy and Champ such a great send-off.’

Not for the first time that week, Vinny looked at his brother with renewed admiration. Michael was so much more of a man without that lunatic of a wife around him.

Determined to restore her family’s credibility, Queenie Butler plastered on a false smile as she chatted jovially to the neighbours and locals. Truth be known, she did not want to be at the wake any more than Vivian did, but she was determined to act her way through it.

Spotting old Mr Arthur heading her way with his medals pinned proudly on his suit jacket, Queenie ducked out of sight. Listening to that silly old bastard rambling on about the war was the last thing she needed today of all days. Using the well-wishers for cover, she darted back to the table where Vivian was sitting with Joanna.

‘Brenda is the bane of my life, honestly. Only caught her necking alcohol! Silly little mare is pregnant again, and if she harms that baby, I will kill her stone dead. Sent her back to mine with the kids. Little Vinny was playing up, and Michael’s three were bored.’

When neither Vivian nor Joanna replied, Queenie could not help but lose her cool. ‘Say something then, the pair of you, even if it’s only “arseholes”. Never seen two faces look so much like a wet weekend. Best you snap out of your little sulk, Joanna, else Vinny won’t be amused. I know you’ve got the ike because he told you to sit here while he chats to the men, but men of importance like Vinny always stand with the blokes, love. When they’re talking business, they don’t want their birds stood by their side, do they? It isn’t the done thing.’

‘Can somebody get me another sherry? I’m not walking up the bar myself,’ Vivian said.

When Joanna leapt up to get it for her, Queenie turned to Vivian. ‘Did you see the way Daniel, Adam and Lee greeted Albie at the church?’

‘No.’

‘All over him like a rash, they were. That is definitely not the first time they have met that old bastard. Michael must have taken them to visit him behind my back. I asked Michael outright, but he reckons the boys were just excited because he’d told them Albie was their granddad. I told him not to insult my intelligence. Do I look like I just got off the banana boat?’

‘Is Albie here?’

‘No. Went straight home after the funeral with that drippy brother of his. Wouldn’t have had the guts to come here after the terrible lie he told. I’m surprised the arsehole even had the front to turn up at the funeral.’

‘This is all we fucking need,’ Vivian mumbled, as Mr Arthur sat down in Joanna’s chair.

‘Sorry to bother you, ladies, but I just wanted to pay my respects to you in person and say how very sorry I am for your loss. I also wanted to tell you—’

Before Mr Arthur had a chance to finish the sentence, Queenie cut him dead. After excelling herself being polite to people who got on her nerves all day, she’d reached the point where she’d had enough. ‘If it’s about your war escapades, Viv and I really aren’t in the mood to listen to such cobblers today.’

Mr Arthur looked hurt. ‘I just wanted to tell you about Jeanie Thomas, Queenie. I know you chat to her on her stall sometimes.’

Jeanie Thomas was the mother of Trevor who had run off with Vinny’s first love, Yvonne. At the time, Queenie had been that annoyed she had vowed never to speak to the woman again. But Jeanie was such a nice lady, Queenie hadn’t been able to stay angry with her for long. What had happened was hardly her fault.

‘I’ve not been down the market lately. Not dead, is she?’

‘Jeanie’s in a terrible state, Queenie. Her son moved back to the area recently and he’s disappeared off the face of the earth. Been missing days now he has, and Jeanie thinks that something terrible has happened to him.’

Vivian, who had kept quiet until now, suddenly piped up: ‘Whatever has happened to Jeanie’s son cannot be any worse than what happened to mine and Queenie’s, can it? Now sod off and leave us alone.’

When Mr Arthur scuttled off like a naughty schoolboy, Queenie turned to Viv. ‘I bet Trevor’s disappearance has something to do with Vinny. Both he and Michael went on the missing list earlier this week and I had to look after Michael’s kids, didn’t I? I had no idea Trevor had moved back to the area. Jeanie never mentioned it.’

When Joanna reappeared with two glasses of sherry, Vivian knocked hers back and then stood up. ‘It’s breaking my heart looking at Lenny’s photos on that wall. I need to get out of here.’

‘Wait ten minutes and I’ll come with you,’ Queenie said.

‘No. I did what you asked and came back here, now I want you to do as I ask and leave me in peace for the night. I need to be alone to collect my thoughts. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Clutching Zippy the monkey in her hand, Vivian left the club. Once outside, she held the toy to her nose. She had always begged Lenny to let her wash it, even scolded him and told him he would catch diseases if he didn’t do as she asked, but she was glad now that Lenny had refused, throwing a tantrum every time she asked. The monkey had her son’s scent all over it. Closing her eyes, she whispered, ‘Not long now, boy, and Mummy will be there to take care of you. You just behave yourself until I arrive.’

Vinny Butler was having a chat with David Fraser when his mother rudely poked him in the arm. ‘Me and you need to have a little chat, now!’

Annoyed that she had shown him up yet again, Vinny gave his mother his coldest stare. ‘Mum, this is David Fraser. Mad Frankie’s son.’

Putting on a completely different tone to the one she had just used, Queenie smiled at the handsome dark-haired chap and held out her right hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, David. How is your father?’

‘He’s doing OK, thanks. Giving the screws the runaround as always. I’ll be visiting him again next week.’

‘Well, do give him our regards – not just from me but from all of my family.’

‘Will do. I have to make a move now, Vinny. I’ve got to be somewhere. Look after yourself, and tell your brother I said goodbye.’

Vinny shook David’s hand, then waited until he walked away before tearing into his mother. ‘Do you get off on embarrassing me or something? The Mitchells were stood by the graveside when you and Auntie Viv made a show of me earlier, now you’ve just spoken to me like I’m a ten-year-old child in front of David Fraser. Cheers for that, Mum. He must think I’m some right mug.’

‘I didn’t know it was Mad Frankie’s son, did I? I didn’t even know you knew the Frasers.’

‘There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Mother. Just try not to make me look a fool in front of people in future, eh? And drop the silly posh voice, it really doesn’t suit you.’

Queenie was not one to be told off. ‘And would one of those things I don’t know about be Trevor Thomas, by any chance? Don’t you even think about lying to me, because I knew you and Michael were up to something earlier this week. Never going to be able to look poor Jeanie in the eye again, am I?’

‘I have no idea what you’re on about, Mum. I haven’t seen Trevor since he ran off with that slag, Yvonne.’

‘Swear on my life,’ Queenie demanded.

Before he could speak, Michael ended the conversation by grabbing Vinny’s arm. ‘Bobby Jackson’s only had the nerve to show up. Shall I throw the cheeky bastard out, or do you want to do the honours?’

Vinny’s lip curled into a snarl. He hated Bobby almost as much as he had despised his father. ‘Where is he?’

‘Stood at the corner of the bar. Christ knows how long he’s been here. I reckon some idiot left the main door open and he just wandered in.’

Usually, whenever the club was open Pete and Paul were on the door, but because they were lifelong friends of Roy and extremely fond of Lenny too, Vinny had given them the day off to enjoy a good drink at the wake like everybody else. ‘He’s overstepped the mark this time, bruv. We can’t let this go, we’ll be a laughing stock.’

Michael nodded. The whole of Whitechapel was aware of the bad blood between Vinny and Bobby, therefore he’d have to be taught a lesson for taking such a liberty.

‘What’s going on?’ Queenie demanded. She could barely hear herself think over Big Stan’s rendition of Johnnie Ray’s ‘Cry’. Talk about murdering a great song.

‘It’s nothing to worry about, Mum. Just an uninvited guest, that’s all. Go and sit back down with Joanna and keep her company for me. I’ll be over with some more drinks in a minute,’ Vinny ordered.

Bobby Jackson had been out on one of his little benders. He had celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday the previous day and ended up pulling some bird in the Ilford Palais, so he was still in yesterday’s clothes. He’d been on his way home when he had spotted the door of the club open, and unable to resist the lure of free alcohol, Bobby had decided to sneak in. The worst Vinny would do was chuck him out, surely?

A sucker for a pretty face, Bobby was busy chatting up one of the barmaids and did not see Vinny creep up behind him. ‘You’re not the first to say I look like Les McKeown. I get it all the time, I do,’ Bobby chuckled.

‘Well, you won’t be looking like Les by the time I finish with you – you’ll be looking more like a fucking corpse,’ Vinny hissed, grabbing Bobby by his long brown hair and dragging him backwards towards the exit.

Having gone to a lot of trouble to model his look on the lead singer of the Bay City Rollers, Bobby was more worried about his appearance than anything else. ‘Mind me barnet, will ya? The door was wide open. I didn’t gatecrash, honest I didn’t.’

Max was singing ‘New York, New York’, and lots of the mourners were in a circle on the dancefloor doing that stupid dance where you put your arms around one another’s shoulders and kick your legs from side to side.

Vinny smiled at Nosy Hilda as he dragged Bobby past her feet. ‘Nothing worse than a pisshead who turns up at the wake in jeans, is there? Didn’t even have the nous to wear black. I don’t know what the world is coming to these days, Hilda. No respect for the dead any more.’

Not one person said a word as Vinny dragged Bobby outside. Nobody followed either. It was none of their business and anybody with even half a brain knew not to interfere.

Joanna Preston was worried. Following Queenie’s stare, she had just seen Vinny drag a man out of the club backwards. ‘Should we go outside and make sure Vinny is all right, do you think?’

Queenie glared at Joanna. ‘Are you tuppence short of a shilling or something? I told you earlier that men like Vinny do not want or appreciate their birds sticking their oar in. How old are you again?’

Joanna’s eyes welled up. She was having her worst birthday ever. ‘I’m eighteen today, and I was only trying to help.’

Feeling a bit guilty, Queenie softened her tone. She’d had no idea that it was Joanna’s eighteenth birthday. Vinny had failed to mention it. ‘Sorry if I was a bit abrupt with you, love, but it’s only for your own good. Did you notice how all these people inside the club, including myself, ignored Vinny dragging that man outside?’

Joanna nodded.

‘Well, that’s what you’ve got to learn to do. Hear no evil, see no evil – you get what I’m saying?’

If there was ever a moment when Joanna wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew, then that moment was now. Did she actually know Vinny Butler at all?

Down the side of the club was a small alleyway where the bins were kept. ‘What you gonna do to me? I’ve already said I’m sorry, Vinny. I didn’t do anything wrong in the club. Please just let me go home.’

‘You did do something wrong, Bobby. You disrespected my brother and cousin by turning up at their wake smelling like a brewery and dressed like a cunt. You also disrespected Michael and myself by entering our club,’ Vinny said, grabbing an empty vodka bottle out of a nearby bin.

Flinching, Bobby put his hands over his head to protect himself. He already lost a clump of hair, he’d felt it rip out as Vinny dragged him along the floor. The next thing he knew, Vinny smashed the bottle against the wall, yanked Bobby’s head upwards by his fringe, then stabbed the jagged edge deep into the left side of his face.

‘You bastard! What you done to me?’ Bobby yelled as blood began to spurt out of his face at a rapid pace.

‘Think yourself fucking lucky I’ve only scarred you, because I am telling you now, you ever cross my path again, Jackson, I will kill you stone dead.’