The Wronged

by Kimberley Chambers

  Dean squeezed Nancy’s hand. ‘Don’t be so daft. You’re a brilliant mum. It’s not your fault that you get no support off Michael. Surely he must be able to afford to get someone to run that club for him a couple of nights a week so he can spend more time with you and the boys?’

  ‘Of course he can afford it, but he won’t do it. I’ve begged him to spend more time with us as a family in the past and even though he promises to, he never does. Michael just thinks if he chucks money at me and the boys then that makes him a good father.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’

  ‘I could never not love the father of my children. But I also loathe him at times. He’s so pig-headed when he wants to be. Michael’s the old-school type who firmly believes that a woman’s place is in the home, cooking, cleaning and looking after the kids while a man’s duty is to provide.’

  ‘But times have changed. Women are just as capable of holding down decent jobs as blokes are these days. I can’t get my head around why a husband would not want to spend as much time as possible with his wife and kids. Then again, who am I to judge after walking out on my own family? Half of me thinks that was the best decision I ever made, but the other half thinks it was the worst. I must have been some callous bastard back then.’

  It was now Nancy’s turn to comfort Dean. ‘No you’re not. You’re a lovely bloke and you left Whitechapel for all the right reasons. You’d never have been the man you are today if you’d have stayed with Brenda. And if you’d have taken the kids with you, Vinny would’ve hunted you down and killed you. Your nan is so proud of you, Dean, and as much as she misses you she’s relieved you got away. You’ve no need to ever beat yourself up about what you did.’

  ‘I do though, Nance, and always will. Not only did I walk away from my kids, I walked away from my nan – and I’m all she has. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about all three of ’em, you know. When Bren got pregnant with Tommy I felt like I had no choice but to get out, because I knew if I held him in my arms my life would’ve been mapped out, and I’d have been stuck with Bren for ever. I wished I could have taken Tara with me. I loved her so much. Leaving her was the most difficult decision I’ll ever have to make in my life, but like you say, the Butlers would never have let me have her, even though they all knew Brenda was a lousy mother and the kids would have been better off with me.’

  ‘Why haven’t you ever settled down again, Dean? Perhaps you should, you know. It might help take away the pain of the past. You’d be a great dad, I know you would.’

  Dean shook his head. ‘I’d rather just throw myself into work and make a success of my business. I’ve only ever truly loved one woman in my life and unfortunately for me she’s taken. If I can’t have her, I don’t want nobody else.’

  ‘Is that the girl you lived with for a while? I remember your nan telling me you were all loved up once.’

  ‘No, Nance. That girl is you.’

  Feeling shocked and awkward, Nancy stood up. ‘I’d better ring a cab now, Dean. I really do need to get home to Michael and the boys.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Unable to visit their loved ones’ graves or go shopping because of a stomach bug, Queenie and Vivian decided to catch up with their weekly fix of Brookside. Both women were addicted to the Channel 4 soap, but they struggled to understand the Liverpudlian accent at times.

  ‘What did Bobby just say?’ Vivian asked.

  ‘Shush. Sheila’s about to have a go at him,’ Queenie hissed. The Grants were her favourite soap family.

  ‘Gordon Bennett! Not again,’ Vivian exclaimed as next door’s music pounded through the wall.

  Queenie paused the video and leapt out the armchair. ‘I ain’t putting up with this no more. I’ll ram that fucking stereo right up that rough old malt’s arse.’

  Vivian grabbed hold of her sister’s arm. ‘Let Michael deal with it, Queen. Unlike us, they’ve no class and you can’t reason with scum. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we plug my Lenny’s disco equipment in and turn it up full blast? I bet they aren’t fans of Chas and Dave.’

  Queenie’s anger turned to giggles. When her nephew had died, Vinny had put his disco equipment and records into storage. Vivian now had both in Lenny’s old bedroom, which she’d kept as a shrine to her son. ‘Come on, let’s piss ’em right off – “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit …”’

  Michael Butler was reasonably impressed with the way Jay Boy had settled into life at the club. He was already popular with the staff and customers and was very on the ball. Last night alone, Jay had barred two drug dealers and single-handedly broken up a mass brawl on the dance floor.

  Michael had been furious when he’d learned that Little Vinny had dragged Stephen Daniels out the club, then beaten him up outside. He’d recently had a warning about his licence because of the amount of noise the punters were making on leaving the premises, so more aggravation was the last thing Michael needed.

  Considering he’d been thrown in at the deep end, Jay had dealt with the situation superbly. He’d bunged Stephen a oner to keep his trap shut, and taken him home personally. Michael had since reimbursed Jay’s money and given Little Vinny a stern talking to. However, Michael was still determined to give Jay a bigger test, if only to piss his brother off. Vinny had taken a liberty by insisting that Jay be part of the set-up, and two could play that game.

  ‘Paul’s on the phone for you, boss,’ Jay shouted out.

  ‘What’s occurring?’ Michael asked his doorman.

  With all the bother over Little Vinny and his own boys, Michael had forgotten about his mother’s nuisance neighbours, and it took him a moment to work out who Paul was talking about when he said that Karl Baker was a regular at the Brewery Tap pub in Barking. Then the penny dropped. By the time Paul finished telling him that he’d overheard Baker arranging to meet his pals in Barking this evening, Michael had put it all together. ‘OK, Paul, leave it with me. Little Vinny’s not working tonight, so I need you and Pete at the club. Jay can come with me. Did Karl drive to the boozer?’

  ‘Yeah. Serving up in there he is,’ Paul chuckled.

  ‘He’ll be more than serving up when I get my hands on him later. Nobody upsets my mum and aunt and gets away with it. Fucking mug.’

  Johnny Preston packed the remaining few items in his sports holdall. He was dreading the conversation he was about to have with his mother, and very much doubted she would understand his dilemma.

  ‘You hungry, son? Wanna bacon sarnie?’

  ‘Sit down, Mum. We need to talk.’

  Spotting the holdall, Shirley Preston knew what was coming. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re not gonna go to the police now. You can’t leave poor Jamie to rot.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I have to put my own family first. Jo’s been through so much already. It’s not fair on her to rake up the past again.’

  ‘Don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes, Johnny. It’s that fat fucker you married you’re more worried about. You said yourself when you came back from Feltham that you thought Jamie was telling the truth. So what’s changed, eh? Her slinging you out?’

  ‘I said I thought he might be telling the truth, Mum. I still do, but I’m not a hundred per cent sure. Don’t forget, he had all those cuttings, he ripped down the posters, he was sat opposite the club the day it happened and he admits that he rung the fucking Old Bill saying he had taken Molly.’

  ‘He was a child back then, Johnny, and a stupid one at that. But you know as well as I do that he never killed Molly. If you turn your back on that boy, that’s me and you finished, son, for good.’

  Tears pricking his eyes, Johnny picked up his holdall. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve made my decision.’

  ‘Boss, it’s me. I have been watching his every move, and I have photos of his family and work colleagues now. His movements are nothing to get overly excited about. He spends most of his life inside his club.’

  ‘Get your arse back here and bring the photos with you,’ the boss bellowed.


  ‘Is that it? Job done?’ the man asked, surprised.

  After last night’s events, the boss was in no mood for small talk. ‘Stop asking questions and just do as I fucking say.’

  Little Vinny was sitting in the armchair chewing at his fingernails. Sammi-Lou’s news had knocked him for six, and he’d been in a sort of a trance ever since.

  Albie sat opposite his grandson. Michael had given the boy a week off work after his altercation with Stephen Daniels, but Albie was sure it was more than that preying on his mind. ‘Talk to me, Vin. I’m ever so worried about you. You can tell me anything and I’d never repeat it. What’s the matter, boy?’

  Little Vinny put his head in his hands. When Sammi had told him the news, he’d been too gobsmacked to even discuss the subject. He’d driven her straight home in silence and ignored her phone calls ever since. He was only bloody eighteen and he hated kids. ‘It’s Sammi. She’s pregnant, and I’m too young to be a dad. Her old man’s gonna go mental when he finds out. He hates me, I can tell. What am I gonna do?’

  ‘Oh dear. Sounds like Sammi’s got you trapped, boy. I told you to be careful and use a you-know-what, didn’t I?’

  ‘They made me cock itch. Sammi said she was on the pill and I trusted her,’ Little Vinny whined. He was feeling more sorry for himself by the second.

  Albie sighed. He’d grown close to the boy over the years, but could sense he was a troubled soul, which was hardly surprising with Vinny for a father. ‘You’re definitely not ready to be a dad, but you can’t keep avoiding Sammi’s phone calls. You need to be a man and tell her how you feel. She’s only young as well and hopefully if you say you’re not willing to marry her or settle down yet, she won’t want to keep the child.’

  ‘But say she does?’

  Albie shrugged. He wasn’t about to advise the kid to tell his father in case the poor girl ended up dead. He would never forgive himself if that were to happen. ‘There ain’t a lot you can do if Sammi wants to keep the baby, but it still doesn’t mean you’ve got to marry her or live with her. Times have changed. You can still be a good provider and dad these days without getting yourself shackled to the child’s mother.’

  Little Vinny tried to picture Sammi as a mother. An image came into his mind: Sammi-Lou cuddling her little sister, her little blonde, curly-haired sister. Before he could stop himself, Molly’s face flashed through his mind. Little Vinny gagged and ran from the room. How could he ever be a dad after what he’d done?

  Queenie and Vivian were sunbathing and sipping a sherry to celebrate their victory. Neither had realized just how loud that disco equipment was when played in such a small room. It had literally made the walls shake.

  ‘How funny they all pissed off out, Queen. Well, we know what to do in future. Anytime I hear them playing that Bill bloke’s records from now on, I shall blast the bastards out with our Chas and Dave.’

  ‘His name ain’t Bill, Viv. It’s Bob bleedin’ Marley. How many more times I gotta tell ya? Anyway, I reckon it was our rendition of “Ain’t No Pleasin’ You” that made ’em all leave home. We weren’t born with the best of singing voices, were we?’ Queenie sniggered.

  ‘Look, Queen! Where’s the other one?’ Vivian said, pointing at the magpie. Both sisters were very superstitious when it came to magpies; ‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a boy’ was an old wives’ rhyme their dear old mum had drummed into them as children.

  About to point out another two magpies, Queenie screamed as Chester pounced and grabbed one of the birds by its tail.

  Seeing the bird struggle, Vivian covered her eyes with her hands. ‘Do something, Queen. Do something!’

  Grabbing a big stone from her rockery, Queenie yelled ‘Shoo,’ as she threw it with all her might. She then winced as Chester fell lifeless to the grass.

  ‘Oh my gawd! I didn’t mean for you to kill it,’ Vivian exclaimed.

  ‘Everything OK, ladies?’ Mouthy Maureen shouted, poking her nosy head over the fence.

  ‘Yes. Fine, thank you,’ Queenie replied, snatching a towel off her washing line and throwing it over poor Chester. She wasn’t much of an animal lover, much preferred her wildlife, but didn’t want the whole of Whitechapel to find out she was a cat killer.

  When Maureen went back indoors, Queenie turned to Viv. ‘Quick, get me the shovel.’

  Vivian was horrified. ‘You ain’t gonna cave its head in, are ya?’

  ‘Course not! Whaddya think I am? The bleedin’ thing’s already dead. We just need to bury it before that lot next door get home.’

  ‘Me stomach’s rumbling again. I need to go to the lav,’ Vivian said, dashing indoors.

  Feeling guilty, Queenie made sure none of the neighbours were looking, lifted the towel slightly, and said a few words. ‘Sorry, Chester. But you did shit in me garden and murder me birds. I didn’t mean to kill you, though, honest I didn’t.’

  Chester opened his beady eyes and stared at the evil woman who had attacked him. No longer stunned, he leapt up and scratched at her scrawny face in a fury.

  Vinny Butler’s emotions were all over the place. Ahmed’s revelation had left him shell-shocked and he’d thought of little else since. Vinny didn’t know if he wanted Ava to be his or not. It would be far less complicated if she wasn’t, but the more he’d dwelled on it, the more convinced he’d become that this child he’d never seen was his. Joanna was no slag, and there was no way Vinny could imagine her entering into a new relationship straight after Molly’s death. Like himself, Jo would’ve been far too distraught to even contemplate such a thing.

  There was a knock on the cell door and Frank the screw stuck his head in. ‘You all right, Vin? I thought I’d better warn you that you’ll have a new cellmate later today. I managed to make sure it was someone half sensible. He’s an older man and his name’s—’

  Vinny could feel his heart pounding nineteen to the dozen. ‘You got that envelope Michael gave you?’ he interrupted.

  ‘Yep,’ said Frank, reaching into his pocket. ‘Here you are.’

  ‘Cheers. You get going now, mate. I need to have a butcher’s at something before this new cellmate arrives.’

  ‘Okey-dokey. Just give me a shout if and when you need anything else.’

  Vinny’s hands shook as he ripped open the envelope. Gasping, he immediately knew Ava was a Butler. She had his jet-black hair, green eyes, same skin tone, and looked a lot like Little Vinny had at the same age.

  Satisfied the child was his, Vinny grinned at the photo in which Ava was scowling and pouting. She looked a real character, but thankfully there was no resemblance whatsoever to Molly. Vinny doubted he’d have been able to handle such a likeness. Molly was so pretty and unique, but Ava was cute in her own way too.

  It was odd, staring at a child that he’d only just found out existed, but Vinny felt an immediate connection with Ava. It was as though he already knew her and he couldn’t wait until he could see her in the flesh. How dare that bitch Joanna decide that he wasn’t worthy of being Ava’s father? She was bang out of order, and would pay for what she’d done. Vinny would make fucking sure of it.

  Karl Baker was in good spirits. Selling cannabis in boozers beat working for a living any day of the week, and he got to socialize at the same time.

  His wife was cool about his choice of career, but his sister didn’t know the score. Shell would probably chop his bollocks off if she knew he was keeping his stash in her loft.

  Karl lit up a cigarette, then dropped it as he was grabbed from behind. ‘What the fuck! Get off me,’ he yelled.

  ‘Shut your cakehole and get in that van,’ Michael ordered.

  ‘I ain’t getting in no van. Is this what you want?’ Karl reached into his pocket and produced a see-through bag of drugs. ‘Here, take—’

  Seeing red, Michael put his hands around Karl’s neck and smashed his head against the side of the Ford Transit. ‘Do I look like a druggie?’

  Karl was used to the odd fight and reckoned h
e could look after himself, but there was something sinister about these two men in hooded tracksuits that had him scared shitless. ‘Are you undercover Old Bill?’ he asked.

  Michael prodded his cosh against Karl’s head. ‘I’m your worst fucking nightmare, that’s who I am.’

  ‘Let’s get out of here, boss. I can hear someone coming,’ Jay Boy warned.

  Michael handed his accomplice the cosh. ‘He’s all yours now. Make sure you give him a good going over.’

  ‘Why me?’ Jay Boy asked. The odd scrap with punters trying to force their way into the club was one thing, but dragging people off the streets and doing them over with a cosh was another.

  ‘Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise,’ Karl pleaded.

  Forcing Karl into the back of the van, Michael slammed the doors and turned to Jay. ‘My brother obviously didn’t describe your position of employment too well. Working for me and Vin means you also help us out if we have any little problems we need sorting. You get my drift?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘What you waiting for then? Climb in the back of the van. I’ll drive, and while you’re doling out the punishment I’ll explain to the prick why he had it coming.’

  By the time the van turned into Longbridge Road, Michael Butler was grinning broadly. Karl Baker was crying and begging for mercy and Jay Boy was proving to be a dab hand with the cosh.

  ‘Wow! This is some party – you’ve certainly fallen on your feet with this girlfriend of yours, Vin,’ Ahmed said, suitably impressed. Hutton was not an area Ahmed was familiar with, but the house was enormous and set in at least two acres. A massive marquee had been erected in the grounds and there were waiters serving guests and a valet parking service.