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 th
e 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.’
Payback Page 2
