The Trap

by Kimberley Chambers

  Nancy shrugged. ‘We’re not talking. When the boys overheard his comments about Lee yesterday, I stormed out and went round Rhonda’s house. I didn’t get back until just before Michael was due to leave for work last night, and I stayed in bed this morning until I heard him leave. I’ve got a feeling he might have driven up to Ipswich to see his dad. I remember him saying something about visiting Albie the other day.’

  Worried about her daughter’s mental state yet again, Mary sighed. ‘Oh well, it’s up to you what you decide to do, love, but Lee is Michael’s son, and there isn’t anything in the world that’s going to change that. If I was you, I would allow Lee to be part of yours and the boy’s lives.’

  ‘But you’re not me, Mum, are you?’

  Queenie and Vivian had never been to anywhere like Eastbourne before, and they couldn’t help but comment how different it was from London.

  ‘Ain’t it clean, Queen? Look at the pavements. Spotless they are,’ Vivian said.

  ‘Beautiful clean fresh air as well. I can actually smell the sea. Brings it home to you just how putrid our own area is, don’t it?’ Queenie replied. Whitechapel had never been the sweetest-smelling of places, but the long hot summer had made it even worse. The stink of refuse and rotting fruit hung heavily in the air back in their native East End, and Queenie had taken to shutting her windows and using air-fresheners.

  ‘This is it here on the right. You wait until you see the beautiful grounds,’ Vinny said. ‘Mum, do you mind if I drop you, Auntie Viv and Roy at the home, then pick you up in a couple of hours? Little Vinny will be well bored otherwise, and there is a place not far from here where I can get him some lunch. The staff said it would take quite a while to show everything to you, and I’m no good with stuff like that. I’m sure Roy would be happier if just yous two stayed with him.’ Vinny said.

  ‘Yeah, I would,’ Roy added.

  When Vinny pulled up in the car park, Queenie grinned. There were beautiful gardens, tweeting birds, and a real sense of tranquillity. ‘You’re gonna adore it here, boy. It’s the nuts.’

  Having just arrived at his destination in Suffolk, Michael greeted his dad, Dorothy, and Uncle Bert fondly. Since moving to Ipswich, his father had really sorted himself out. He had cut his booze intake down to just a few beers every evening, and had also met a lovely lady who now lived with him and Bert, and cooked and cleaned for them. Albie even had his own greenhouse and allotment now, where he grew his own vegetables and fruit.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t get down here last week when I said I would, Dad. Something cropped up at the club, then it was Lenny and Little Vinny’s birthdays. You know how it is.’

  Albie cherished his relationship with his youngest son. Michael was the only link to his past. ‘Not to worry, boy.’

  ‘Right, I’m going to leave you men to talk while I go out into the kitchen and prepare lunch. I’ve cooked us a nice lamb stew, Michael.’ Dorothy said.

  Albie grinned with pride as his woman left the room. Dorothy wasn’t his usual type. She was fifty-five years old and had worked as a librarian for many years. She had a heart of gold though, and made Albie very happy. Cuddling up to Dorothy every night was much more satisfying than all the meaningless bunk-ups he had had over the years.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it as well. I need to see to my greenhouse,’ Bert said.

  ‘Shall we have a beer, son? I rarely drink in the day now, but you look like you could do with one and I shall use the hot weather as an excuse to have one myself.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d love one, Dad.’

  ‘So, what’s wrong then? You’re not your usual chirpy self,’ Albie said, handing his son an ice-cold can of Heineken.

  Michael wasn’t usually one to spill his guts, but today he felt the need to, so he told his father all about Nancy’s behaviour in the restaurant. ‘We’re not even talking now, Dad. I love her so much, but Lee is my son and it puts me in such a fucking difficult position. Nancy hates me having any contact with the boy, and I feel so bloody guilty about it. I only see him twice a month.’

  Albie nodded understandingly. He knew all about difficult relationships after living with Queenie for years. ‘You’ve just got to go with your heart, boy, and do what you feel is right. Why don’t you bring Lee down here to meet me? I’d love to be a proper granddad.’

  Apart from Nancy, Michael had never told any of his family that he visited his father regularly. Nobody would approve, so he had kept his relationship with his dad as his little secret. ‘I will introduce you to Lee one day, but I can’t bring him down here at the moment, Dad. I only have him for a few hours at a time. Nancy would go mental if I had him any longer. She goes into a deep depression every time I mention the child.’

  Albie took a sip of his beer. He was a docile man now, didn’t like to get involved in debates or speak out of turn, but he knew as Michael’s father he had to point him in the right direction. ‘Sometimes, son, you have to put your foot down in life with women. Don’t let Nancy call the shots like I let your mother, because if you do you’ll lose her respect. If I could turn the clocks back I would do things so differently. Your mum and Auntie Viv ruled the roost, and me being a weak man, I just let them shove me out. I should have stood my ground, asserted my authority, but I didn’t and look where it got me. I see myself in you, boy. You’re not like Vinny. You’re a kind lad with a big heart. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did, eh?’

  Michael nodded. His father might have been a drunk for years, but he spoke more sense at times than the rest of the Butler clan put together.

  Little Vinny’s eyes lit up as his dad drove into Kings Holiday Park. ‘Look, there’s an amusement arcade over there. Can we go in and play the machines, Dad?’

  Vinny stepped out of the car. Children’s laughter filled the air and was accompanied by the strong but pleasant smell of chlorine.

  ‘And there’s a swimming pool. Can we go swimming?’ Little Vinny had never been to a holiday camp before, and he loved it already.

  ‘No, we can’t go swimming because we haven’t got any towels or our trunks with us,’ Vinny replied. The holiday park certainly seemed to have a buzz about it. There were lots of chalets, with adults sunbathing and children playing happily outside. There was a big clubhouse, and a shop that had rubber rings, beach balls, and buckets and spades on sale outside. Vinny had never been to a holiday park before either, and he was quite surprised by how upmarket it all seemed. ‘Shall we get something to eat then, boy?’ he asked. He had wanted to drive around more, see if he could find chalet number twenty-five, but there just wasn’t the time today.

  ‘Yeah. Can I have burger and chips, Dad?’

  Vinny nodded, and smiled at a holidaymaker walking past. ‘Excuse me. Could you tell me where we can get something to eat, please?’

  ‘In the clubhouse. Have you only just arrived?’ the lady asked, ruffling Little Vinny’s hair.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, your boy will love it here. They do so much for the kids. My grandson’s favourite is the donkey derby. You must do the Treasure Island trip too. It’s a wonderful camp. Much better than Pontins where we used to go.’

  ‘Sounds great. Enjoy your holiday,’ Vinny said, gesturing at his son to follow him towards the clubhouse.

  Vinny had imagined the clubhouse on a holiday camp to resemble a big shed with poor entertainment, but this one was the exact opposite. It had a large modern bar, a massive stage, and top-class lighting. It also had band equipment on stage and a DJ stand. Scanning the club to see if he could spot Joanna Preston, Vinny noticed there was a darts competition going on, and also a grey-haired man sitting in the corner painting a portrait of a child while the kid’s parents looked on proudly.

  ‘Wait here, son, while I get us a drink. Kids aren’t allowed up the bar,’ Vinny ordered, after clocking the sign.

  Two lads marched over to Little Vinny. The one with the football under his arm spoke first. ‘All right? I’m Gary and this is my cousin, Steve. Do you wan
na play football with us? We are one short on our team. What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Vinny, and I’ll have to ask my dad. He’s up the bar at the moment.’

  ‘Hello, lads. Do you want a glass of Coke as well?’ Vinny asked, handing his son his drink.

  ‘Yes please, Mister.’

  When Vinny returned from the bar, Little Vinny asked if he could play football with Steve and Gary.

  ‘You haven’t got time today, son. We need to get back to pick the others up shortly.’

  ‘But I like it here, Dad. I don’t want to go home,’ Little Vinny whinged.

  Sitting down at a nearby table, Vinny urged the lads to do the same. ‘So where do you come from, boys? You here on holiday?’

  Steve explained that his and Gary’s parents owned chalets on the site, and told Vinny that they were cousins who came from Plumstead in South London. ‘You should get a chalet here too, Mister. It’s well nice. They have all the big stars sing here at weekends, and all the famous comedians. My mum says Butlins is shit compared to Kings. She says it is the best holiday camp ever, and we love it here too, don’t we, Gal?’

  Gary nodded. ‘My nan made my granddad go in for the knobbly knees competition earlier this week and he won,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Dad, can’t you book us a holiday here?’ Little Vinny pleaded.

  Vinny couldn’t help but smirk. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Booking a holiday was the best way possible to get to Joanna Preston, surely? ‘Yeah, I don’t see why not. I wonder where I can book it?’

  ‘There’s an office not far from the entrance. They’ll book it for you. A man called Ray King owns the camp, he is friendly with my dad and granddad. If you see Ray, just tell him Gary Fletcher sent you. He knows me too.’

  Chuckling, Vinny ruffled his son’s hair. ‘We’ll have something to eat, then I’ll book us a holiday. But, we’ll need to get our skates on. Go and order some food while I get another pint. I’ll have whatever you’re having, and get your mates whatever they want.’

  Vinny snatched the ten-pound note out of his father’s hand and ran towards the food counter. His dad was the best dad ever, he really was.

  Queenie and Vivian could find no fault with the home, staff, or surroundings. Roy had been shown the room that would be his, and it was spacious, nicely furnished, with its own TV and a wonderful view from the window. The food was fairly decent, they had just all eaten lunch, and the staff said that in the summer the patients that were well enough to go were regularly taken to the beach.

  ‘Look at that flowerbed, Queen. Not seen roses like that in years. What a beautiful place, much better than that shithole in East Ham, eh?’

  Nodding, Queenie looked at her watch. The staff had told her and Vivian to have a walk in the grounds while they took Roy into the day-room and introduced him to some of the other patients. They said initial introductions always went smoother without any family present. ‘Come on, let’s go back in and see how Roy’s getting on. Do you think he likes it? Hasn’t said much, has he? He did wolf that quiche and salad though. Wasn’t eating sod all in East Ham. He said the food was rotten.’

  ‘I’m sure he will be happy here, Queen. He seemed to like his room and was chuffed it had its own TV.’

  Queenie sighed. ‘I do hope so, Vivvy. I really do. If he’s happy, I’m happy. If he’s sad, then so am I.’

  Vinny liked things to go to plan, and when the lady in the office informed him that they were fully booked for the next six weeks, he was pissed off. ‘But, you must have one chalet spare?’

  ‘Not until September. Kings is ever so popular with families, and the school holidays really do get booked up months in advance. I can offer you a caravan though.’

  Vinny glared at the woman. ‘Do I look like a pikey?’

  Little Vinny’s eyes filled up with tears. He had met two nice mates, thoroughly enjoyed his burger and chips, won three pounds in the amusement arcade, and he wanted to stay at Kings forever. ‘Can’t you just buy a chalet, Dad, like Gary and Steve’s dad did?’ he asked, hopefully.

  ‘Are there any chalets for sale?’ Vinny asked the woman.

  ‘Yes. Would you like to view one this afternoon?’

  ‘I can’t. I need to be somewhere else. I’ll have to come back another time.’

  ‘Well, the office is open all day, every day, Sir. This is our phone number. Give us a call, and we can talk through prices and arrange any viewings for you.’

  ‘Can’t we do it now, Dad? Please,’ Little Vinny begged in desperation.

  Vinny dragged his son from the office. ‘We haven’t got time, boy, and I haven’t much money on me.’

  Little Vinny started to cry as soon as he got in the car. It was his actual birthday today, and it was now the worst one ever.

  ‘Don’t cry. Only sissies cry. Think on the bright side, you can go for a ride on that present of yours when you get home.’

  ‘Don’t wanna go for a ride on it. I want to go on holiday to Kings,’ Little Vinny wept.

  Vinny turned the volume up on the stereo, then hearing Dorothy Moore singing ‘Misty Blue’, he quickly turned it back down again. He hated that bastard record, and every other soppy love song that somehow wormed its way into the charts.

  Mulling over what he should do, Vinny mentally calculated the pros and cons. He knew the chalet was going to set him back thousands, but he could easily afford it. His mum, aunt, and Lenny would all be sure to love Kings.

  The downside was, sodding off to Eastbourne for days on end was not something he was comfortable with. Yet Michael and Dean were both quite capable of running the club, and he had some good staff as well. Pete and Paul were ultra-trustworthy and had been working for him for donkey’s years.

  Glancing at his distraught son, Vinny mounted the car onto the nearby kerb. ‘Right, I’ll do you a deal.’

  ‘What?’ Vinny mumbled, his lip protruding sulkily.

  ‘Well, your nan ain’t happy I bought you that scrambling bike for your birthday. She is paranoid you are going to fly off it, break your neck, and end up in a wheelchair like your Uncle Roy. So, this is the deal. I take the bike back to the shop, then I’ll drive back to Kings tomorrow and buy one of them chalets instead. What do you reckon?’

  Vinny’s face lit up in a split second. ‘You got yourself a deal, Dad.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  To avoid any rush-hour traffic, Vinny picked Ahmed up at the crack of dawn. ‘Did you bring any gear with you?’ Vinny asked. He didn’t like to keep a stash of his own, as it was too tempting to snort it.

  ‘It is breakfast time,’ Ahmed replied, pretending to be appalled.

  ‘I know that, you nutter. Just thought we might perk ourselves up a bit later. I didn’t get rid of all the punters until after three so I’ve only had a couple of hours’ sleep-feel fucked I do.’

  Grinning, Ahmed pulled a small see-through bag out of his pocket. ‘Good job I had the brain to bring this with me then.’

  Little Vinny was like a cat with two tails. All he could think and talk about was having regular holidays with his new pals Steve and Gary down at Eastbourne. ‘Nan, you and Auntie Viv are really gonna love it at Kings. They have bingo, and a glamorous granny competition. I think you should enter that. I’m sure you are pretty enough to win.’

  Queenie didn’t want to dampen her grandson’s enthusiasm, but there was more chance of hell freezing over than her standing on stage with a load of old dears who wore Crimplene dresses and stank of piss. ‘Aren’t you going out with Ben today?’

  ‘Not until Dad’s rang. He promised he would ring me as soon as he’d bought the chalet. I want to know what number it is.’

  ‘Well, you’re gonna have to find out later, boy. Me and your Auntie Viv are going to visit your great-nan’s grave, then we have to go and see Roy. You can’t stay here on your own, so if you’re not going out to play, then you’ll have to come with us.’

  ‘But, why can’t I stay here? I know how to look after myself,
and as soon as Dad rings I’ll go out.’

  ‘Nope. You ain’t staying here, Vinny, and that is final.’

  Within two hours of arriving in Eastbourne, Vinny had spied through the window of chalet number twenty-five, and purchased what was referred to as a bungalow because it was newly built with bricks rather than wood. He was now sitting by the swimming pool with an ice-cold lager in his hand.

  ‘That man’s face was a picture when you handed him seven and half thousand pound in a carrier bag,’ Ahmed chuckled, unbuckling his jeans.

  ‘What you doing? You can’t strip down to your pants. There’s children present.’

  ‘Which is why I put trunks on,’ Ahmed said, letting go of his jeans to reveal a bright green pair of extremely brief Speedos.

  Vinny couldn’t help but laugh as he clocked women staring at his pal. Ahmed was six foot two, golden brown, and really did have muscles in all the right places. He had a bit of a hooked nose which seemed to suit his face, and with his mirrored sunglasses on, plus the enormous bulge in his trunks, was certainly turning some heads. Vinny had thought he had been gifted with an enormous penis until he had stood next to his pal in the toilet one day. That was a story he and Ahmed often joked about.

  ‘I could eat a scabby horse. Where do I buy food?’ Ahmed asked.

  Vinny didn’t answer. He was transfixed by the girl in the bikini who was walking towards him with her pal. He knew immediately it was Joanna Preston, and he nudged Ahmed’s arm. ‘Our prey has just arrived, and she’s heading our way.’

  When Joanna smiled at him, then asked if the sunbeds next to them were free, Vinny could barely believe his luck.

  ‘I go to get my friend and I drink and food. Would you like anything, beautiful ladies?’ Ahmed asked, winking at Joanna’s pal. Ahmed always liked to sound more Turkish when chatting up English birds. A foreign lilt, plus a few cheesy compliments always equalled great success. Over the years, it had ensured him many a bunk-up and his beloved British passport.