The Wronged

by Kimberley Chambers

  When Sammi-Lou told him she’d be there by midnight, Little Vinny smirked. He had his pretty girlfriend firmly in the palm of his hand and he liked that very much.

  Over in Pentonville, Vinny tipped the wink for the fun to begin. He’d arranged for Andy Tucker and three of his cronies to be paid a bullseye each for kicking off at the appointed hour.

  ‘You can fuck off,’ Tucker bellowed. ‘We ain’t going back to the cell. We should be allowed to watch Match of the Day.’

  One of Tucker’s pals threw a chair across the room and a moment later all hell broke loose as other inmates joined in.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ Vinny urged Jay Boy.

  Jock McIntyre was in shock as Vinny dragged him out the TV room. Nobody heard his cries for help though. The screws were too busy trying to stop a full-blown riot getting under way and the prisoners were busy arguing and fighting amongst themselves.

  ‘Check nobody’s coming, Jay,’ Vinny ordered, before clumping Jock repeatedly in the stomach.

  Jock, who weighed less than ten stone, doubled up and fell to the floor groaning in agony.

  ‘All clear,’ Jay said, after checking both ends of the corridor.

  ‘Quick, hold the cunt’s arms down,’ Vinny urged.

  ‘Get off me. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, OK?’ Jock cried.

  ‘Not larging it now, are ya?’ Vinny spat. He would’ve loved to cut Jock’s tongue out, but didn’t have time. He pulled the razor blade he’d melted into a toothbrush handle from his sock and as quick as a flash, slashed a reasonably straight line across the Scotsman’s mouth.

  As Jock screamed in agony and fright, Vinny muttered, ‘Grass, and I swear on my dear old mum’s life, next time it’ll be your throat.’

  Thirty seconds later Vinny re-entered the TV room. With a quick nod to old Frank, the screw guarding the door, he rejoined the fracas.

  Enticing a screw into his pocket had been a smart move on Vinny’s part. He’d always known it would come in handy at some stage.

  Queenie and Viv were happily gushing over how radiant a heavily pregnant Princess Diana looked when they were disturbed by the doorbell ringing.

  Queenie pursed her lips. ‘This better be my Michael, or he’ll have some explaining to do.’ Her son had not been in touch since the prison visit and Queenie was not amused.

  ‘There you are! Been ringing your bleedin’ club all evening. Why didn’t you pop in earlier, like you promised?’

  Michael Butler gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just had a manic day. Little Vinny said Auntie Viv had an accident. Is she OK?’

  ‘I’ll live,’ Viv shouted from the living room.

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense then. How did the visit go?’

  ‘Good. Vinny was in high spirits,’ Michael lied.

  ‘Did you build bridges, like I told you to? And don’t lie to me, ’cause I’ll find out the truth.’

  ‘We didn’t need to build bridges, Mum. We’re brothers at the end of the day.’

  Beaming from ear to ear, Queenie hugged her youngest son. ‘That’s what I like to hear. Us Butlers stick together through thick and thin, always. Well, apart from me and your father, of course,’ Queenie chuckled.

  ‘I’d better get back to the club, Mum. I left Little Vinny in charge.’

  ‘I want a word with you about him.’

  ‘Not now. It was busy when I left.’

  ‘OK. But I need to ask you a favour, boy.’

  Not another one, thought Michael, but as his mother pursued him down the path he had no option but to nod.

  ‘I’m worried about Tara and Tommy. Dave isn’t a good influence on our Brenda, you know. I think you should pay him a little visit.’

  ‘And do or say what?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, do I? You and your brother are the men of this family. Just do or say what you did to Pervy Pat that time. I was so proud of you when he scarpered. So was Vivvy.’

  Michael looked at his mother in disbelief. ‘Brenda’s a pisshead, Mum, and until she gives up boozing, she’ll always end up with one of the Daves of this world. Pat was a nonce. Big difference.’

  Johnny Preston read the letter once more, then put it in his trouser pocket. He was dreading having this conversation with his wife. However, he had promised there would be no more secrets between them and he meant it. Since he’d got out of nick and married Deborah for the second time, their relationship had gone from strength to strength. There was no way he would jeopardize that by hiding things from her.

  ‘Can we talk, babe? Sit down a minute.’

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Deborah asked, alarmed. She could tell by the look on her husband’s face that it wasn’t going to be good news.

  ‘It’s Jamie. My mum’s been visiting him in Feltham and she swears blind that he didn’t kill Molly. He wrote me this letter. Read it,’ Johnny urged.

  Deborah’s eyes filled with tears. It was coming up to four years now since Molly had been brutally murdered, yet the memories of that torrid time were still very raw to her. Ava had filled the gap in her life to a certain extent, but she would never replace Molly. No child could. ‘I don’t want to read it, Johnny. Jamie must be guilty. The police aren’t bloody stupid. Please don’t tell me you are thinking of visiting that treacherous murdering scumbag?’

  ‘I have to, Deb. I need to find out the truth.’

  Deborah shook her head in pure disbelief. ‘Joanna will go crazy when she finds out. And what is visiting that vermin going to solve? Not going to bring Molly back, is it?’

  ‘It will solve whether that little fucker is lying or not, Deb. And there is no need for Jo to know. If need be, I will tell her afterwards.’

  ‘And you don’t think he’s going to lie to you, Johnny? He lied to his nan and the fucking police.’

  ‘As soon as I look him in the eyes, Deb, I will know the truth. Trust me on that one.’

  Mary Walker kissed her sleeping granddaughter on the forehead, then hugged her son and daughter-in-law. Christopher and Olivia had got married in 1981 and little Janine was now eighteen months old. ‘Keep safe at work, won’t you, son?’

  Christopher raised his eyebrows. He was twenty-seven now. A detective sergeant in the drugs squad at Arbour Square. However, his mother still treated him as though he was some rookie. She never let a week go by without phoning him at least three times to make sure he was still alive and had not been harmed in the line of duty.

  Donald followed his family into the hallway. ‘I do apologize once again for the behaviour of the boys. I shall punish them all personally in the morning; I can assure you of that.’

  Rather than upset his mother, Christopher mumbled, ‘Boys will be boys.’ He was not at all surprised that Nancy’s sons had turned out such horrible little bastards. What else could you expect, with Butler blood running through their veins?

  When he was a kid, Christopher had witnessed Vinny Butler stab a man to death outside his nightclub. Vinny had then threatened and blackmailed him into keeping his mouth shut. Once the police had got involved, Christopher, despite being absolutely terrified, had told his parents the truth. That very same evening they’d done a moonlight flit from their beloved café in Whitechapel.

  ‘Bye-bye. Drive safely.’ Mary stood on the pavement waving him off. She was dreading going back inside the house because she knew what was coming next.

  Donald’s face was like thunder when she walked back through the door. ‘I don’t know about you, but I have never felt so humiliated in all my life. What must Olivia have thought? I do hope she doesn’t tell her parents. As for Christopher, he deserves a medal for holding his temper. Talk about show us up! Adam knocked that drink over Olivia on purpose – I saw him do it. And as for Daniel asking poor Christopher why his nose was so big …’

  Donald shook his head. ‘I truly wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Even Lee played up, and he’s usually the best behaved out of the bloody three. I shall teach t
hem all a lesson in the morning, Mary. That cane I keep in the shed will be put to good use. Words and threats are meaningless. Such behaviour warrants corporal punishment.’

  ‘Please don’t overreact, Donald. Yes, they were very naughty and I felt ashamed too. But you can’t be caning them. Nancy’ll go mad, and what do you think Michael will say? Anyway, it wasn’t Adam or Lee’s fault – Daniel was the bloody instigator. He’s forever egging the other two on. I overhead him dare Adam to knock that drink over Olivia, and he kept getting Lee to wake Janine up. I’ll have a word with Nancy tomorrow. She most certainly needs to chastise them more, especially Daniel.’

  ‘They will not be welcome back in this house, Mary. Not until they have learned some manners. If you want to see those boys in future, you can visit them at Nancy’s. After tonight’s debacle, I totally wash my hands of all three.’

  Little Vinny grinned as his girlfriend took her dressing gown into the bathroom. For some strange reason, Sammi-Lou would never get undressed in front of him, and Little Vinny found her shyness quite a turn on.

  Obviously it was Sammi’s natural beauty that had first attracted Little Vinny to her, but the fact she was no slag like most of the other girls he’d met had cemented their relationship. Sammi admitted that she’d slept with one lad before him, but it had been a serious relationship, not a one-night stand. It had taken Little Vinny six weeks to get her into bed.

  When Sammi-Lou turned the light off and slipped under the quilt, Little Vinny kissed her then tried to ram his cock inside her as quickly as possible.

  ‘No. Not yet,’ Sammi whispered.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Sammi-Lou said nothing as she began to kiss Little Vinny’s neck and chest. Her best pal Charlene was currently dating a twenty-five-year-old and their sex life sounded far more exciting than hers. As much as Sammi loved and fancied her boyfriend, he was a bit of a ‘Wham bam thank you, ma’am’ merchant. There was no foreplay like Sammi had been used to with her ex, and although she pretended otherwise to Charlene, since she’d been with Little Vinny, Sammi hadn’t had a single orgasm.

  As his girlfriend’s lips moved down his stomach towards his penis, Little Vinny froze. That toothless slag Alison Bloggs had been the first bird to put her mouth round his todger and she would most definitely be the last.

  Feeling suddenly nauseous, Little Vinny roughly shoved Sammi-Lou’s head away from her destination and leapt out of bed. He pointed a finger at her. ‘Don’t you ever fucking do anything like that again, understand?’

  Sammi-Lou burst into tears. ‘I was only trying to make you happy. I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it.’

  ’No, I don’t like it! Only whores do stuff like that,’ he hissed, a twisted expression on his face. He then stormed out of the room leaving Sammi-Lou sobbing her heart out on the bed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The man breathed a sigh of relief as he laid eyes on Michael Butler. His boss would be pleased. At least this trip hadn’t been a complete waste of time, like the last.

  Clicking away with the specialized spy camera, the man wondered what this task was all about. Usually his boss was very open about such matters, but this time his lips were well and truly sealed.

  As Michael Butler sauntered down the street like he owned it, the man smirked. Whatever plans his boss had in store for the cocksure-looking Michael, they wouldn’t be pleasant, that was for sure.

  Deborah Preston stared solemnly out of the car window. Just over a week had gone by since Johnny had told her he planned to visit Jamie in Feltham and she’d thought of little else since.

  ‘Cheer up. Jo is gonna think something’s wrong otherwise.’

  Deciding to have one last attempt to make her husband change his mind, Deborah gave it her all. ‘If you loved me as much as you say you do, Johnny, no way would you be putting me through such heartache. I’ve not slept or eaten properly all week. I just don’t understand how you could even consider being in the same room as that animal. It doesn’t make sense to me. Won’t you feel the urge to stick a knife straight through his heart? Because I know I fucking well would.’

  Realizing his wife was near to breaking point, Johnny parked up and took her in his arms. ‘I need to visit Jamie for my own peace of mind. See what he’s got to say for himself and watch him squirm. I owe it to Molly.’

  Huffing and puffing, Albie Butler dragged another crate of mixers into the bar area.

  ‘Dad, you look like you’re gonna keel over. Sit down and I’ll get you a drink. The bar staff can finish that off.’

  At sixty-four, the years of heavy drinking and chain-smoking had begun to take their toll and nobody was more surprised he was still alive than Albie himself. ‘No, boy. I like to earn my keep, you know I do.’

  Not one to take no for an answer, Michael put an arm around his father’s shoulders and made him sit down.

  Albie grinned when Michael plonked a pint in front of him. He enjoyed pottering about at the club doing odd jobs five days a week. It made him feel useful, something he’d never felt in all the years he’d been married to Queenie.

  As a young man, Albie had been handsome, full of life and could have had his pick of women. Queenie had done all the chasing and, after a whirlwind romance, Albie married her. Life was good until Queenie fell pregnant. From the moment Vinny was born, things had gone from bad to worse. Vivian was always at their house, and Albie was pushed to one side. No wonder he’d ended up a drunken womanizer. Queenie had only ever wanted sex to make babies, and Albie had spent more nights sleeping on the sofa than in their marital bed.

  ‘What’s up, Dad? You having a Dorothy moment?’

  Albie sighed wistfully. He’d found love with a woman in later life. Dorothy was a wonderful lady who’d restored his faith in the female of the species. They’d been so happy living in Ipswich at his brother Bert’s house, until she’d passed away suddenly. ‘Sort of, boy. I wish I’d have married Dorothy instead of your mother. Then we could have spent many more happy years together.’

  Michael sat down next to his father. He knew exactly how Albie felt. His own romance, with a model called Bella, had been short-lived but truly unforgettable. Michael had ended it for the sake of his boys, but he had never forgotten the stunning brunette who’d stolen his heart. He’d even tried to find her once, but had been told by the new tenants that Bella had moved to New York. Nancy had no knowledge of the affair. The only people who did were his dad and Vinny.

  Hating to see his old man down, Michael playfully punched him on the arm. ‘If you hadn’t married me mother, then I would’ve never existed. Thanks very much, Dad.’

  Albie smiled. Unlike Vinny, who’d once beaten him up so badly he’d ended up in hospital with broken legs and ribs, Michael had been a wonderful son. ‘I’ll never forget how kind you’ve been to me, boy. But I do worry what will happen when your brother gets out. He ain’t gonna want me working here, is he?’

  Michael gritted his teeth. He could foresee many problems on the horizon when Vinny got released, but was determined to stand his ground. ‘You leave Vinny to me. Your job will be safe, I can assure you of that. I ain’t Michael the kid brother any more. I am Michael the fucking adult and Vinny’s going to have to accept that.’

  Vivian was sitting on a deck chair in Queenie’s back garden, reminiscing about the past. Kings Holiday Park in Eastbourne had been such a big part of their lives, until Vinny started a ruckus that got them barred from the clubhouse.

  ‘Do you remember that time you got pissed and tried to snog Des O’Connor, Viv? And you used to have the hots for that Mick who ran the amusement arcade.’

  Vivian laughed. ‘Talk about pot calling kettle! You might come across all prim and proper, but I know you fancied Ray King. You used to act all silly every time he pulled up in his Rolls-Royce. And what about the time you embarrassed yourself outside the launderette?’

  Queenie felt her cheeks blush. Ray King had been the owner of the holiday park, and even though she’d mos
t definitely had the hots for him, she’d never admit it, not even to Viv. Hurriedly she changed the subject: ‘’Ere, look – it’s that thing that killed the bird I found earlier. Look at its eyes. They’re evil,’ she said, pointing at the ginger-and-white moggy who was sitting on the fence staring at her.

  About to remark that the cat’s eyes reminded her of Vinny’s, Vivian bit her tongue. ‘It’s called Chester. I heard her next door calling it yesterday for its grub,’ she said. ‘I bumped into Nosy Hilda round the shops this morning and she filled me in on the set-up. That ain’t her old man living there, it’s her brother. The other tart is his wife. Them boys are hers though. Little sods they are, by all accounts. Hilda said they took the right piss out of Mr Arthur the other day ’cause he was wearing his war medals. And they’ve already been caught stealing off the market. Her name’s Shell. The boys are Kurt and Brad. I can’t remember the others’ names, although Hilda did tell me.’

  ‘Shell! What, as in a bleedin’ sea shell? That’s all we need, two little tea-leaves living next door. What’s the betting they try to burgle us while we’re up the Roman one Saturday?’

  ‘I think we should knock there, Queen. Let ’em know exactly who we are. They need to show a bit of respect. Their music system must be right next to my lounge wall. I couldn’t even hear me Brookside properly last night. They were playing that black man’s music again. I’m not putting up with that.’

  ‘It’s Bob Marley.’

  ‘Oh, is that her brother’s name? I could have sworn blind Hilda said it was something different.’

  ‘No. It’s Bob Marley records they keep playing, you daft bat.’

  About to ask who the hell Bob Marley was, Vivian gasped as the cat leapt off the fence and grabbed a little robin by its throat. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt! Do something, Queen.’

  Queenie picked up her hoe. She loved birds and welcomed them into her garden with the lovely bird table that she hung food from on a daily basis. ‘Get away, you ginger-and-white bastard,’ she screamed.

  As the hoe came towards him, Chester fled without his prey. Queenie bent down and saw the terrified bird take its last breath. ‘We won’t be lowering ourselves by knocking there, Viv. I need a brandy to calm my nerves, then we’ll ring Michael. He can do the honours. I must bury this bird first though. Poor little mite.’