Aware that his cellmate was trying to stifle his sobs, Vinny Butler walked over to his pal’s bunk and rubbed his back. He’d calmed down now, although Michael had pissed him off immensely. ‘Let it all out, Jay. Far better out than in – trust me, I know.’
‘I feel such a fucking dick crying, Vin, but I loved my bro so much,’ Jay wept in his broad Scouse accent.
Jay Boy Gerrard was an up-and-coming boxer who had only just turned pro when he’d ventured down to London for a pal’s stag night. Undefeated as an amateur, the future looked bright for Jay Boy until he’d got involved in a drunken brawl. One punch was all it had taken Jay to kill his victim. It hadn’t been his intention, but unfortunately the lad had fallen backwards, smashed his head against the edge of a kerb and died instantly.
Jay had been given a five-year sentence, and was looking forward to his imminent release. He and his brother had planned to set up their own boxing gym, but that dream was over now. His brother had been stabbed outside a boozer in Kirby last night and was dead. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, Vin. My bro’s a legend in Liverpool. I don’t want to go back there now. If I do, I’ll be reminded of his death everywhere I turn. I can’t believe he’s gone and I’m never going to see him again. It doesn’t seem real.’
Knowing exactly what his mate was going through, Vinny gave the lad a hug. Jay was fourteen years his junior. They had been sharing a cell for the past two years and Vinny cared for the bloke like a brother or a son. Jay had most certainly brightened up his time inside, which was why Vinny wanted to repay the favour. ‘Listen, mate, why don’t you stay in London and work with me? You can work at the club. I’ll see to it you get treated with respect and paid good dosh. Then, when I get released, you can be my main man.’
‘Really! But what about your bro?’ Jay asked. He was well aware of the friction between Vinny and Michael as his cellmate often spoke about it.
‘Don’t be worrying about Michael. He will do exactly as I tell him. Whether he likes it or not, I’m the boss. Always have been and always fucking will be.’
The man apprehensively entered the plush office. His boss could be a real tyrant at times and he hoped he wasn’t in any trouble. His last task had proved anything but fruitful.
‘Sit down.’
‘Sorry I had a wasted trip, boss. I tried my hardest to track him down, honest I did.’
‘I know. Which is why I’m putting my faith in you again. I have an address of a nightclub in the East End of London. There you will find a man called Michael Butler. I want photos, movements; dig up as much as you can on him. I even want to know when he takes a shit. Understand me?’
‘Clearly, boss.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joanna Preston clapped as the rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ ended. She bent down next to her daughter. ‘Make a wish, darling, then blow out the candles.’
‘What’s a wish, Mummy?’
‘It means think about something you want. Why don’t you wish for that little fluffy white kitten you saw last week, eh?’
Ava did as she was told, then squealed with delight seconds later when her granddad handed her a small cardboard box with the kitten inside. ‘Can I call it Bagpuss?’ Ava asked. She loved to watch TV and the videos her nan and granddad brought her, and Bagpuss was her current favourite.
Deborah Preston picked up the kitten and chuckled. ‘Seeing as she’s a pretty little girl, just like you, I think we can come up with a nicer name than Bagpuss. Why don’t we make a list of names, then you can choose which one you like the best?’
Standing with her hands on her little hips, Ava Preston shook her head in defiance. ‘No, Nanny. I want to call her Bagpuss.’
‘She’s a case, isn’t she? Talk about three going on thirteen,’ Nancy Butler joked. Ava was nothing like Molly in any way, shape or form, and Nancy still couldn’t decide whether that was a good omen or bad. With her mop of curly blonde hair and sweet nature, Molly had been a replica of her lovely mum. Ava was far more of a little diva, and with her jet-black hair there was a definite resemblance to her father.
‘Stroke her, Nancy,’ Ava demanded.
Nancy smiled as Ava climbed on to her lap. She wondered if the reason she’d not bonded with her as much as Molly was because she saw Ava far less frequently. Since Joanna had moved deeper into Essex to a small village called Tillingham, they only met up once a month at most. It was difficult to speak on the phone regularly too. To prevent Ava’s existence from becoming known to the Butler clan, Joanna insisted that Nancy only ever call her from a phone box.
‘Why don’t you ring your mum, Nance, and ask if the boys can stay with her tonight? It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper catch-up, and my mum and dad are staying over anyway, so they’ll look after Ava. There’s a nightclub not too far from here that the locals call the “Four Views” which has a good disco on a Saturday night. Please say yes – we’ll have such a giggle.’
Nancy sighed. She hated asking her parents to have the boys overnight these days. Her father was always so bloody critical of their behaviour, especially Daniel’s, and she was sick of having to defend her sons, especially when she knew the criticism was justified. ‘Oh, I dunno, Jo. I promised my mum I’d pick the boys up by nine.’
Joanna squeezed her pal’s hand. Even from their infrequent conversations, she knew that Nancy had been down lately and could do with having some fun. ‘Don’t be so boring. It will be a laugh. When was the last time you let your hair down, eh?’
Nancy could not remember the last time she’d even had the chance to let her hair down. Michael might refer to the club as work, but at least he was still out socializing. She wasn’t. She was stuck indoors being a mother to three boys, one of whom didn’t even belong to her.
‘Sod it!’ she said, the decision made. ‘Pass me your phone, Jo.’
Ahmed Zane was living his dream. Having used a massive chunk of the money he’d earned through drug importation to build a fine hotel in Turkey, he had just enjoyed a luxurious stay in his homeland and flown back first-class. On arrival, he headed straight for the restaurant he co-owned with his cousin in Tottenham.
Burak was both surprised and pleased to see Ahmed. ‘What are you doing back so early? I thought your flight was not until Wednesday.’
Ahmed led his cousin into the office. ‘I heard some very interesting news, Burak. Hence my early return.’
‘What? About who?’
‘I think I have learned something that will fuck Vinny’s head up big time. In fact, it will probably explode when he hears!’
‘Tell me,’ Burak demanded, his tone overloaded with impatience.
Ahmed smirked. He and Vinny Butler had once been the closest of friends, but the car crash that killed poor Lenny had put an end to that. Ahmed could have forgiven Vinny for crashing the car. What he could not forgive was that his so-called best pal had dragged his unconscious body from the passenger seat and belted him into the driver’s seat, leaving him for fucking dead and framing him in the process.
Vinny’s excuse was that he’d thought Ahmed was already dead and panicked, but Ahmed was too cute to fall for that old chestnut. Vinny’s actions had been callous and calculating. A panicking man would have just legged it without stopping to move bodies and see to it that someone else took the rap.
Burak slammed a glass of Scotch on the table. ‘Why do you always do this, Ahmed? You half tell a story and then you fucking stop.’
Ahmed chuckled. ‘Chill, Burak, chill. Tarkan Smith rang me at the hotel. He had some exciting information regarding Johnny Preston. Apparently, Preston is working at a car lot in Wickford for somebody that Tarkan knows well. It also turns out that Preston has a young granddaughter who he is very cagey about. He never even mentioned the child’s existence until he was seen out with her. Now why would Johnny be trying to keep her a secret, eh?’
‘You think the kid could be Vinny’s?’
Ahmed grinned. ‘It looks that way. When Preston saw his b
oss in the restaurant, he said the child was not related to him, but then she called him “Granddad”. Apparently the mystery child has jet-black hair and green eyes. Sound like anybody you know?’
‘Sure does. Vinny will go mental if he finds out Joanna had another kid by him and kept it a secret. He’ll be climbing the walls in his prison cell.’
Ahmed had been surprised and annoyed by how well Vinny had coped with being incarcerated. He’d had a few altercations with fellow prisoners and had seemed very depressed when he first got banged up, but since then he’d taken it all in his stride. Obviously Vinny had no idea how much Ahmed loathed him. He still thought they were pals – the mug.
‘Exactly, Burak. Which is why, first thing tomorrow, I shall be hiring the best private detective money can buy.’
Over at the Walker household, Donald was becoming more embarrassed and angry by the second. Out of all of the days to play up, his grandsons had chosen to do so in front of Christopher and Olivia.
‘Stop acting stupid. Eat your dinner before it gets cold,’ Mary ordered.
Aware of her discomfort, Daniel giggled and flicked a pea at Lee, who in turn flicked one back that missed Daniel and hit Mary instead.
‘Right, that’s it! If they can’t eat like normal human beings, put their dinners in the bin,’ Donald bellowed.
‘Not hungry anyway,’ Daniel replied, defiantly pushing his plate away.
‘I’m not hungry either,’ Lee said, copying his brother as he always did.
When his nan took their plates away, Daniel leaned towards Adam. ‘I dare you to knock Olivia’s drink all over her.’
‘Nah, Dan. We’ll get in trouble.’
‘I’ll give you a pound if you do it,’ Daniel urged.
Seconds later, Adam stood up, pretended to stumble and did as he’d been asked.
‘You stupid clumsy child! Go and ask your nan for a cloth. I am so sorry, Olivia,’ Donald said in a mortified tone.
Christopher leapt up. ‘It’s OK, Dad. Most of the drink went on the carpet anyway. I’ll clean it up.’
Nudging Lee with a silly grin on his face, Daniel decided to go one better. ‘Why is your nose so big, Uncle Christopher?’ he asked innocently.
‘Mary! Get these children out of my sight before I do something I truly regret,’ Donald screamed.
Back in Whitechapel, Queenie and Vivian were discussing Little Vinny’s violent outburst.
After threatening the poor bloke on the next table, Little Vinny had tipped over a table, thrown a chair at some people who were standing at the bar, then stormed out of the pub.
‘Never felt so embarrassed since that time we got barred from Kings,’ Queenie said. Kings was the holiday park in Eastbourne where Vinny and Michael had once owned bungalows.
‘Got no sense of bloody humour, that boy,’ Viv tutted. ‘I mean, we were only ribbing him. And I’ll tell you something for nothing, no way am I ever getting in a car with him again. Drove like a bleedin’ lunatic. I felt right sick by the time he dropped us at the chippy.’
Queenie nodded in agreement. Little Vinny had hung around for her and Viv opposite the pub, but refused to speak to them all the way home. ‘I’m gonna have a word with Michael about him. I thought meeting that pretty girl had sorted him out, didn’t you? Living with Albie obviously hasn’t done him any favours at all.’
When Queenie had been officially married to Albie, Vivian had hated the sight of the man. She no longer loathed him though. ‘Albie isn’t a violent man, Queen, so you can’t be blaming him. Got your rose-tinted specs on again, aintcha? Well, let me take them off for you. There’s only one person Little Vinny takes after and that’s his bloody father.’
‘I suppose you’re right. Both got a bleedin’ temper on ’em, that’s for sure,’ Queenie admitted begrudgingly.
Pleased that her sister had agreed with her verdict, Vivian happily changed the subject. ‘How’s your Bren? You heard from her recently?’
Queenie pursed her lips. Since her daughter had moved to Dagenham to live with a bloke fourteen years her senior, contact had dwindled between herself and Brenda. ‘Nope. No matter what time of day I ring up, she’s never in. Out on the piss all the time with that tosser, if you ask me. It’s Tara and Tommy I feel sorry for. Must be raising themselves – and probably running riot, poor little mites. Do you think me and you should pay Bren another visit? Just to check the kids are being looked after properly.’
Vivian shrugged. Tara was twelve now, Tommy seven, and the last time Queenie had dragged her over to Dagenham for an unexpected visit, both kids had been happy enough and looked well-fed and dressed. Brenda and Dave had seemed content enough as well. ‘If you want my honest opinion, I don’t see what you’re gonna gain by us keep poking our trunks in. Even if you think the kids are unhappy, you ain’t gonna want custody of ’em, are you? Brenda and Dave are both pissheads, so they’re well suited. And at least Dave takes Bren out, Queen, unlike my Bill and your Albie did with us. Kitchen-sink women me and you were.’
Hearing the chugging of what sounded like a clapped-out vehicle outside accompanied by loud voices, Queenie ran over to the window. ‘Aw my dear Lord! Please don’t tell me this is our new neighbours.’
Vivian hobbled over to the window. Their old neighbour, Lil, had croaked it a few weeks back. They’d seen the council popping in and out a few times since, and had been expecting new neighbours to arrive any day now. Not at nine o’clock at night though, in a poxy old Transit tipper truck. There were two women, a man and a couple of boys.
‘Blimey, Queen. D’ya reckon they’re gypsies?’
‘No idea what they are, but I don’t like the bleedin’ look of ’em.’
‘We did say we’d be happy to get anyone other than Indians,’ Vivian reminded her sister.
Seeing the youngest lad, who looked about twelve, stick two fingers up at her, Queenie did the same back, then shut the curtains. ‘I’d prefer Indians any day of the week to that motley-looking crew. Trust our luck, Vivvy. I reckon God must bastard-well hate us at times, I really do.’
When ‘Relax’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood began to blare out of the speakers, Joanna grabbed Nancy’s hand and dragged her off the dance floor. ‘Let’s get another Malibu and pineapple. My feet are killing me in these shoes.’
‘That bloke is still staring at you, Jo. He’s ever so handsome, don’t you think?’
‘I’m really not interested, Nance. Vinny’s put me off men for life. I’m quite content being a single mum, thanks very much.’
‘You can’t allow Vinny to ruin your life, Jo. You are stunning, you’ve got a heart of gold, and you deserve to find true love. Oh my God! I think he’s coming over. Please don’t be nasty to him. He just might be Mr Right.’
Little Vinny was not in the best of moods. He’d had a row with his girlfriend earlier, which was probably the cause of him kicking off in the Rose of Denmark. Now his uncle had just informed him that his father’s cellmate would be working at the club in the near future. ‘Why didn’t you say no? What’s he gonna be doing here? We don’t need any more staff.’
‘Jay’s brother has been murdered, and the lad is in bits. He can’t face going back to Liverpool by all accounts. I dunno what he’ll be doing yet, but to be honest Jay can only be an asset to the business. He’s a good-looking bloke and the birds will love him.’
Little Vinny hated Jay Boy Gerrard. He’d seen him when visiting his dad and thought he looked a flash bastard. His father was always banging on about what a great lad Jay was and that pissed Little Vinny off immensely. He got the distinct impression that his old man would have preferred Jay as a son. That was why he hadn’t bothered visiting the prison for the past six weeks. ‘I don’t wanna work with Jay, Michael. There’s something about him I don’t like. You better tell my dad it’s either him or me.’
‘Don’t talk wet. You’re my right-hand man. Jay will either work as a bouncer or behind the bar, that’s all. He isn’t going to have a position of importan
ce.’
‘He will if my fucking old man has anything to do with it.’
‘Vin, I half own this club. Your dad might think he’s still the overall boss, but he ain’t any more. It was me that turned this gaff into a disco and made a huge success of it. Therefore, I can promise you that Jay will just have an average job, OK?’
When the DJ put on Wham’s ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ Little Vinny stormed into the office. Sammi-Lou was a massive Wham fan and she loved this song.
Staring at his uncle’s bottle of Scotch, Little Vinny undid the lid. He had not touched a drop of alcohol since that drunken, drug-fuelled night when he’d thought his dead sister had paid him a visit. Molly had been wearing a white gown and her eyes were bulging with terror in the same way they’d looked as he’d throttled the life out of her. He still wasn’t sure if he had seen her ghost, but he preferred to think that his mind was playing tricks on him.
Neither his father nor Michael had any idea that Little Vinny had visited brothels and snorted cocaine with Ahmed in the past. The Turk had been a massive support for him since his dad had been banged up and, even though they’d seen far less of each other recently, Little Vinny knew that if he ever had a problem Ahmed was the man to turn to.
Little Vinny took a sip of Scotch but immediately spat it on to the carpet. He might have had a bad day today, but he quite liked the new him. Alcohol was evil. All it did was remind him of bad things.
He picked up the phone and dialled, and to his relief it was his girlfriend who answered. The last time they’d had a row, her dad had picked up the blower and all but threatened him.
‘You OK?’ he asked. ‘Didn’t you go to your mate’s birthday bash?’
Not wanting to admit that she’d been crying periodically ever since they’d parted in Roman Road earlier, Sammi pretended she was just getting ready to go out.
‘Well, I’m missing ya. So if you fancy coming to the club later, we can cuddle up in bed,’ Little Vinny suggested.
The Wronged Page 7
