Joanna leapt up, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘Yous two are as much to blame for keeping all these secrets from me. Perhaps I could have protected my daughter more, had you been honest with me.’
‘Jo, it isn’t our fault. We didn’t even know that Jamie was living in London with your gran until today. We don’t have much to do with your dad’s side of the family,’ Deborah said.
‘Well, I tell you something now, we better start packing and move a bit further away than Tiptree. Because when Vinny finds out that it was Jamie who killed Molly, he will come after all of us. I just know he will.’
Back in Whitechapel, Queenie and Vivian were sitting opposite one another at a table inside the club. Michael was in the office speaking with DS Townsend. ‘I really hate this club now, Queen. Everytime I look at that stage, I can see my Lenny stood there playing his records. Brings it all back to me, it does.’
Queenie leaned across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘We’ll go home as soon as we’ve spoken to Michael. He’s been in the office for ages with the Old Bill. I wonder whether they’re talking about Molly or Vinny? Knowing the luck this family has, Bobby Jackson has croaked it.’
‘Whether Jackson’s kicked the bucket or not, Vinny is bound to do bird, Queen, so you need to prepare yourself for that.’
Queenie nodded. She had been amazed when her son had walked out of the club reeking of expensive aftershave, then calmly kissed her on the cheek before getting inside the police car.
‘I’m gonna encourage my Michael to sell this bastard place. I’m sure it’s cursed. So many bad things have happened here.’ She looked up as Michael emerged from the office. ‘Oh dear, he doesn’t look happy. More bad news heading our way, no doubt,’ Queenie muttered. She waited until her son had shown the two policemen out before asking what they had said.
Michael ignored the question, poured two large brandies, then handed them to his mother and aunt. ‘Drink that. You’re gonna need it.’
Queenie knocked hers back in one gulp. ‘Bobby Jackson’s dead, isn’t he?’
Michael sat down on the chair next to his mother. ‘Not yet. But the police don’t know if he’ll last the night. The results of the post-mortem are in. Molly was strangled on the day she went missing. Joanna’s identified her body, so hopefully we can arrange a lovely send-off for her before long. They’re holding the body at Poplar mortuary and the police said they will take us there if we want to say our goodbyes. Vinny was given the details of Molly’s death this morning, which is obviously why he flipped when he saw that shitbag Jackson.’
Vivian took her handkerchief out of her handbag and dabbed her eyes. ‘Poor Molly. I don’t think I can face seeing her in that mortuary. She isn’t going to look too clever, is she? Not after being strangled. Such a beautiful child. It’s a wicked bastard world we live in now, it really is.’
‘What type of person could put their hands around that little girl’s neck and strangle her? There are some fucking sickos in this world,’ Queenie spat.
Michael took a deep breath. He was dreading delivering his next sentence. ‘The police have charged somebody with Molly’s murder, Mum.’
‘Who?’
‘Jamie Preston – Judy Preston’s boy. Turns out that slag did keep her baby after all. Jamie is Dad’s son.’
Carl stared out the window of the aeroplane. Tarkan Smith had come up trumps for him in more ways than one. Not only had Tarkan lent him the money to finalize the deal on his bar in Spain, his pal had also warned him to leave England as quickly as possible because Ahmed was searching for him with a view to kill.
Ahmed Zane had turned out to be a true snake in the grass. Carl had toyed with sending Vinny Butler a letter before he left England, to let him know what a shitcunt his best pal really was, but had then decided against the idea. With Vinny’s daughter still missing and presumed dead, chances were Ahmed would be stuck to Vinny like glue in case he turned up, and would probably be checking the post every day too. Knowing what Ahmed was like, it wouldn’t have surprised Carl if he was the one behind Molly’s disappearance in the first place.
Carl lit up a cigar. No way would Ahmed ever find him in Spain. For a start, the bar he was purchasing was not in Lloret de Mar as he had led Ahmed to believe, it was actually in Benidorm. Neither was his surname Thompson, it was Tanner.
‘Would you like any drink or snacks, sir?’ the pretty blonde stewardess asked.
Carl smiled, then shook his head. He had no desire for lager or peanuts at the moment. Payback was the only thing on his mind, and he would make sure Ahmed the snake Zane received his one day, preferably via Vinny Butler.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
At five a.m. on the morning of her granddaughter’s funeral, Queenie Butler was sitting in her conservatory drinking tea and cursing the rotten November weather. She had prayed for it not to rain today, but as per usual, him up above had ignored her wishes and it was currently lashing it down.
It was over a month now since Molly’s body had been found. The police pathologist had conducted the first post-mortem, but had not been able to release the body because Jamie’s defence had ordered a second. Vinny in the meantime had been granted bail, thanks to a good brief and a caring judge, even though the Old Bill had opposed it. Their argument was that Bobby Jackson’s head injuries were so severe, he could die at any time, and they were afraid Vinny might do a vanishing act if his GBH with intent charge was increased to murder.
Thankfully, Bobby had not died. He was still in hospital though. By all accounts he’d suffered brain damage and was unable to communicate with family or friends. Vinny’s brief had told him that it could take anything up to eighteen months or perhaps even longer before the case made it to court. He had also told Vinny to expect a lengthy custodial sentence whether Jackson’s health improved or not.
The thought of her eldest son getting banged up worried Queenie greatly. With his temper, Vinny was not cut out for prison life. She worried that he would get himself into more trouble on the inside than he had on the outside. Her only hope was that, once the judge and jury heard the full story, they would be lenient towards her boy.
Dreading the funeral, Queenie decided to have a long soak in the bath to try to relax herself a bit. Seeing that tiny coffin and knowing her precious grandchild was lying inside was going to break her heart. But Queenie would not show that outwardly. Putting on a brave face for the sake of her family was what she did best.
Joanna Preston put on her dressing gown, picked up her handbag and tip-toed towards the bathroom so she would not wake her parents.
Taking the box out of her handbag, Joanna read the instructions, and carried them out. She then put the white stick on the window sill so she could not see the result until she was ready.
Exhausted, she sat on the toilet seat and held her head in her hands. She was dreading Molly’s funeral, did not have a clue how she was going to get through the day. She was also dreading seeing Vinny again. The rose-tinted glasses she had once worn when looking at him were now well and truly off, and the way he had behaved this past month had taught her to see him for what he really was: a callous, arrogant self-centred bastard. Molly had been the only chink of goodness in his heart.
The letter Jo had received via Nancy had been the final straw. Vinny had informed her when and where Molly’s funeral service was to be held and then told her that Molly would be buried next to his brother and Lenny in Plaistow cemetery. He had also made it clear that, seeing as he was paying for everything, she had no say in the matter.
Joanna guessed that the reason Vinny had not given her or her family any real grief over Jamie being arrested was because he was now under strict bail conditions. Nancy had found out from Queenie that the judge had warned Vinny he’d go straight to jail if he got himself in any more trouble between now and his trial. And he wouldn’t risk missing Molly’s funeral, not even for revenge.
Taking a deep breath, an incredibly nervous Joanna turned around and stared
at the pregnancy test. Thankfully, the result was exactly what she had hoped it would be.
Jamie Preston’s eyes widened with fear as the five lads backed him into the corner of the washroom. ‘What you doing? Have I done something wrong?’
Glen Pritchard, who was not only the leader of his own little gang but also saw himself as one of the top boys in Feltham, grabbed Jamie by the neck. ‘Rumour has it, Preston, that you throttled your own little niece. Like it done to you, would ya?’
As his face reddened through lack of breath, Jamie slipped down the wall and onto his backside. ‘I never touched my little niece. I’ve never even met her.’
Pritchard snorted. His dad used to go to school with Michael Butler and had asked him to give Jamie a tough time on Michael’s behalf. Apparently, Michael had got in touch with his dad and promised to see them OK if Glen obeyed his orders and kept his mouth shut. ‘Yeah, that’s what all the nonces say. Bet you fiddled with her before you killed her though, eh?’
‘I swear to you, I ain’t no nonce and I didn’t kill Molly.’
Glen Pritchard turned to his gang and grinned. He was desperate to impress Michael Butler. What lad wouldn’t be? ‘Do the cunt, and do him good and proper.’
Queenie and Vivian were already dressed in their finest black clothing even though Molly’s funeral was not due to take place for another four hours.
Because of the awful circumstances, Vinny had insisted the club play no part in Molly’s send-off. Instead, the funeral was to leave from his house and the wake afterwards was to be held in the restaurant Vinny part-owned with Nick and Ahmed in Stratford.
‘There is no way I am going back to that restaurant, Queen. I’m coming straight home after the funeral. If Vinny is laying on free booze, it’s bound to end up in fisticuffs. Not like the old days any more, when people had respect for the dead. We should come back here and crack open a bottle of sherry to toast Molly. What do you reckon?’
The phone bursting into life stopped Queenie from replying. At the sound of Albie’s voice, her lip immediately curled up. ‘You’ve got some fucking nerve, ringing here. What do you want?’ she spat.
Albie had been as shocked and devastated as anybody to learn he had another son and it was Jamie who was responsible for Molly’s death. Vinny had banned him from attending the funeral, so Albie was now back in Ipswich, living with Bert. ‘I just wanted you to know that I am so sorry for everything that has happened, and I will be thinking of you all today.’
‘Thinking of us! I bet you are, you dirty old bastard. If it wasn’t for you having wandering-cock disease and creating a monster with that slag you shagged, my beautiful granddaughter would still be alive. Now fuck off. And if you ever ring here again, I’ll send Vinny down there to finish you off.’
Little Vinny was all suited and booted as he strolled towards Ben Bloggs’ house. Uncle Michael had taken him out yesterday to buy him his new clobber, as his old suit and black shoes were now far too small for him.
‘You look smart, boy. All the neighbours will be at the funeral to support your family today, including myself of course. How you bearing up? Is your dad OK?’ Nosy Hilda asked.
Little Vinny’s eyes welled up. ‘None of us are bearing up very well. My dad blames me and I blame myself.’
‘It’s not your fault, boy. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
Knowing he was about to burst into tears at Hilda’s kind words, Little Vinny ran to his pal’s house as fast as he could. His dad had looked at him with hatred earlier, and he needed Ben’s support today more than ever. ‘Ben, open up, it’s me,’ Little Vinny yelled, banging on the front door for the second time. He knew the doorbell didn’t work and Ben’s mother never surfaced before noon.
‘What the fuck! I thought you were the Old Bill. Whaddya want?’ a dishevelled-looking Alison yelled as she hung out of her bedroom window.
‘I’m looking for Ben. It’s my sister’s funeral today and he promised he’d come with me.’
‘Aw yeah, sorry about your sister. I forgot. Hang on, I’ll wake Ben up for you.’
Little Vinny shook his head in disgust. How could that poor excuse for a woman forget that his sister had died? The whole of Whitechapel was talking about Molly’s death and funeral.
When the front door was flung open, it was not Ben standing there, but Alison. ‘The little cunt ain’t here. Been acting really strange since you moved to Barking. Best you pop round and see him more often, Vin, because I need help with these kids. They’re his brothers and sisters and it’s his duty to help me bring them up. I’m a single mother.’
Unable to stop himself, Little Vinny hissed at Alison. ‘You, a mother? Don’t make me laugh. You are the scum of the fucking earth. Ben’s a good lad and I feel so sorry for him living here with you, I really do.’
About to tear Little Vinny off a strip, Alison Bloggs suddenly remembered whose son he was and thought better of it. Big Vinny was her dream man, but he also scared the life out of her. ‘Yeah, perhaps you’re right. I ain’t been the best mum in the world, I admit that. But I do try my best and I love my kids. I was still up at five this morning and Ben was definitely here then. I heard him get up to see to little Kylie. Perhaps he’s gone to school, eh, Vin?’
Collecting some phlegm from the back of his throat, Vinny spat in Alison’s face, then ran from the house. No way would Ben have gone to school today. But he was sure he knew where to find his pal.
Over in Tiptree, Johnny and Deborah Preston were both relieved that their daughter’s appetite had miraculously returned. Jo had lost so much weight lately, she was beginning to look anorexic.
Deborah waited until Joanna had swallowed the last piece of her egg on toast before giving her a big hug. ‘Well done, darling. It’s so good to see you eating again. Me and your dad are both proud of you, aren’t we, Johnny?’
‘I have no choice but to eat now, Mum. I’m eating for two again.’
Johnny spat his mouthful of tea back into his mug. ‘What?’
For the first time in weeks, Joanna managed a smile. ‘Yes, I’m pregnant. I only did the test this morning. It’s like a gift from God, isn’t it? No child will ever replace my Molly, but this baby will help me deal with her loss.’
Deborah and Johnny looked at one another in a mixture of astonishment and horror. Both were thinking the same thing, but it was Johnny who found his voice first. ‘You can’t keep the baby, love. You will never be rid of Vinny if you do. One day you will meet a man worthy of you, and you can have his children.’
‘Your dad is right, Jo. No way can you keep Vinny’s baby.’
With a look of determination in her eyes, Joanna leapt out of her chair and smashed her fist on the table. ‘This is my baby, not Vinny’s, and no way will he ever find out about it. I have already lost one child, and I am not losing another. It’s up to yous two if you choose to support me, but whether you do or not, I am keeping this child and that’s final.’
When Little Vinny arrived at his dad’s house he was taken aback by the display of flowers. There were literally hundreds of wreaths, arrangements and bouquets, and he found it hard to look at them as it made him feel terribly guilty.
Sick of being in Ahmed’s company, Michael was standing outside the house, smoking a cigarette. ‘You OK, boy?’ he asked, putting an arm around his nephew’s shoulders.
Little Vinny nodded, then stared at his muddy shoes. He was anything but OK. He was worried. Before he and Ben had taken to riding up and down the District Line, they used to hang out in what they called their special place. Little Vinny had thought he’d find Ben there, but there had been no sign of him, and he did not know how he was going to get through Molly’s funeral without Ben by his side.
‘Look at the state of your new shoes, Vin. Where you been?’ Michael asked.
‘Looking for Ben. His mother is such a cunt to him. I hate her.’
‘Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up before your dad sees you. You want to look smart for your sister
’s funeral, don’t you?’
Little Vinny wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Yes, Uncle Michael. I loved Molly and I miss her so much. I will never forget her, not ever.’
In the depths of Hainault forest, Ben Bloggs sat alone, chain-smoking and drinking his second bottle of cider. He had never known this forest had existed until earlier this summer. Little Vinny had brought him here when they got off the District Line at Hainault station one day.
Needing to relax some more, Ben rolled himself a joint. His mother had been out whoring last night and he had raided the tin where she kept her money and drugs stash. He’d left the heroin there, but taken the puff and twenty-five quid. His mum would go apeshit when she found out, but Ben didn’t care. It served her right for being such a shit mother. He hated her, and was glad he would never have to clap eyes on her again. He did love and worry about his siblings though. Their future was bleak, just like his had been, and he would miss them terribly.
When the cannabis took effect, a light-headed Ben lay down on the leaves and stared at the sky. It had stopped raining now and the sun was peeping through the trees.
Ben had planned his death a few weeks ago, but had not had the guts to go through with it up until today. No way could he live with himself after what had happened. It had haunted his mind every minute of every day since.
Taking a deep drag on his joint, Ben closed his eyes and thought back to that fateful day. He could remember every detail clearly.
When Vinny had popped round that morning and asked him for a special favour, saying he’d pay him fifty quid. Ben had jumped at the chance. Fifty quid was a fortune to him, more money than he had ever had in his pocket in his lifetime.
He had only started to worry when his pal made him steal a pushchair and told him to hide in the garage next to the club.
‘What do we need a pushchair for?’ he’d asked.
Payback Page 44
