‘Doing what?’
‘What you’re doing now, but in a much more trendy area and bar. Keep this to yourself, but I have just put a bid in on an empty premises in the city. I am going to turn it into one of those yuppie wine bars. That is where the money is these days, Vin. It’s all about the Filofax brigade, as I like to call them.’
‘My old man wants to open a bar like that. He was telling me about it last time I visited him.’
‘That’s probably why your dad employed Jay. I bet he will ask him to run it with him.’
Hearing Jay’s unmistakable loud laugh, Little Vinny turned around. The tosser even had the elderly punters eating out of his hand.
‘Don’t bother looking. You’re worth ten of him.’
‘When will this bar of yours be open?’
‘I’m expecting the offer to be accepted tomorrow, then the building work will start immediately. I already have that lined up.’
‘Will I definitely be a manager?’
‘Of course. My word is my bond, you know that. If you take the job, you have to promise me one thing though.’
‘What?’
‘That you tell your dad and Michael that you asked to work for me, not that I offered the position to you. There will be ructions otherwise.’
Smiling for the first time that day, Little Vinny held out his right hand. ‘You got yourself a deal.’
Jamie Preston’s thoughts were in a very dark place. His Uncle Johnny had been his only hope of justice and now that was just a pipe-dream. His nan had informed him of Johnny’s decision to turn his back on him yesterday, and Jamie was so fucking angry. Johnny had known he was telling the truth, Jamie had been sure of that.
‘What’s up, blud? You wanna smoke to help you chill? My girl just happened to pop this in my mouth when she kiss me,’ Errol Jackson joked, showing Jamie the lump of cannabis resin.
‘Nah. You smoke it.’
‘For fuck’s sake, man. What did your nanna say to you that was so bad, eh?’
Jamie punched his right fist repeatedly against his left palm. ‘You can choose your friends but not your family – that’s such a true saying, mate. Cunts, that’s what my family are, bar me nan. I’ll tell you something now, Errol. If I make it through adult prison, when I get released I’ll have some major scores to settle. My family will pay for the way they’ve wronged me. I’ll ruin each of their lives, one by one, and that’s a fucking promise.’
Gary Allen was no prude, but he was completely taken aback by what he saw as he entered the Butlers’ club. Sammi-Lou had told him that her boyfriend’s family ran a successful discotheque. Not a bastard strip-joint.
The club was packed with seedy geezers, leering and whooping at the six naked tarts who were writhing about on the stage, and a mixture of cigarette and cigar smoke clouded the air. Gary’s eyes scanned the club in search of Little Vinny.
‘Gotcha, you little shit,’ Gary mumbled, as he strolled towards the lad. At six foot three, Gary was no shrinking violet and could more than handle himself.
Little Vinny literally went flying through the air as the uppercut connected with his chin. ‘Nobody treats my daughter like that and gets away with it. Who do you think you are, eh?’ Gary shouted, as Ahmed tried to restrain him.
Michael and Jay Boy were quickly on the scene and grabbed hold of Gary by his arms. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Michael demanded to know. His dazed nephew had just sat up looking rather sheepish.
Gary made a head gesture towards his daughter’s boyfriend. ‘That little bastard has got my daughter up the duff. Then he has the cheek to tell her to abort the child. I’ll have his fucking guts for garters if he upsets my girl again, I’m telling ya that much.’
‘Let’s take this into the office. You an’ all, Vin. This is your doing, boy,’ Michael bellowed, pushing his way past the nosy punters.
Michael slammed the office door and poured a drink. ‘I’m Vinny’s uncle Michael, by the way. Here, get that down your neck.’
Gary Allen knocked the Scotch back in one gulp. He was that incensed, he could have quite easily ripped Little Vinny apart limb by limb with his bare hands.
‘Can I have a drink?’ Little Vinny mumbled, rubbing his throbbing chin.
‘No, you bloody-well can’t.’ Michael clipped his nephew around the ear. ‘Well, now you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle, ain’t ya, boy? What did I always drum into you, eh? Gonna have to man up now and take responsibility for once in your life. Being a good dad is hard graft.’
Like the majority of residents in London and Essex, Gary Allen was well aware of who the Butlers were and what they stood for. So he was shocked and pleasantly surprised by Michael’s bullish reaction to the news. Gary had expected a full-blown argument, not backing.
‘So where do we go from here?’ Gary demanded. ‘My daughter’s extremely upset, but insists she loves your nephew and wants to make a go of it. Personally, I think they’re too young to get married. They should see how their relationship pans out first. But I’m happy to allow them to live in one of my properties – rent-free, of course. I want to give that baby the best start I can in life.’
Not only did Michael admire Gary Allen for having the front to bowl into the club alone, the geezer was also a multi-millionaire who had morals and spoke sense. ‘Sounds like a plan to me. Whaddya reckon, Vin? Sammi’s a lovely girl and you owe it to her to support her and your baby. I think that’s a very kind offer from Gary, don’t you?’
Little Vinny was stunned into silence. He couldn’t believe his life was being mapped out before his very eyes and he had no say in it. Surely Michael should be siding with him instead of fraternizing with the enemy?
‘Well? Cat got your tongue?’ Michael asked his nephew.
Little Vinny put his messed-up head in his hands. He was sure he loved Sammi, but no way did he want to live with her and raise a child. How could he even consider such a thing after what he’d done? It was too late to turn the clock back. He was a child-killer and always fucking would be.
PART THREE
If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day where everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death …
Charles Sanders Peirce
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Winter 1984
Vinny Butler shook hands with the prison staff on his way out, pausing when he came to old Frank to whisper, ‘You ever get pissed off seeing the inside of this shithole, you come to me for a job.’ Frank had made Vinny’s spell on the inside a damn sight easier than it would otherwise have been and Vinny was never one to forget such loyalty.
Frank patted Vinny on the back. A few of the screws had been a bit wary of Butler’s infamous reputation, but Frank hadn’t. What you saw was what you got with Vinny and Frank was going to miss him and his weekly bung. At least the man had class and was no scumbag like a lot of the inmates he had to deal with.
The December weather was freezing, the wind strong and bitter, but Vinny cared about neither as the big metal doors closed behind him. Freedom was something you just took for granted until it was snatched away from you, and Vinny intended to savour every moment from now on.
Spotting Michael, he frowned, then sauntered towards him. He and his brother were currently not on speaking terms again. ‘What you doing ’ere?’ Vinny snarled. ‘Jay Boy said he was picking me up.’
Michael pretended to yawn. Finding out about Ava’s existence had papered over the cracks for a short spell. Then he and Vinny had had the barney of all barneys when Michael had informed his brother that he was spending thousands from their business account to refurbish the club.
‘Grow up, Vin. We need to at least try to get on. If us being business partners isn’t a good enough reason, then let’s do it for Mum’s sake.’
Still scowling, Vinny be
grudgingly shook his brother’s outstretched hand.
‘There’s a shirt and suit in the motor, and I’ve booked us a table in Langan’s at one. I thought we’d stop at your tailor’s on the way, so you can order yourself a new wardrobe. Never known anybody to beef up in nick before. Lags usually lose weight, but not you,’ Michael joked.
Vinny smirked as he stepped into Michael’s Porsche. ‘Was you pissed or on drugs when you bought this?’
Deciding not to bite back, Michael reminded his brother that he’d bought it for Nancy. ‘I’ll probably chop it in soon. It’s a lovely drive though. I’ve given it some proper welly,’ he added.
‘Nice to know Nancy’s still as ungrateful as ever. Anyone else meeting us at Langan’s?’
‘Nope. Just me and you, bruv. We have a lot to discuss, and it ain’t all good I’m afraid.’
Queenie Butler took the sausage rolls out the oven and put the mince pies in. Everything was home-made of course. Queenie wouldn’t touch that shop-bought shit with a barge-pole.
Hearing the opening bars of Greg Lake’s ‘I Believe in Father Christmas’ she dropped her oven gloves and rushed to switch the radio off. Molly had loved that song and Queenie wanted nothing to spoil her upbeat mood. She was so looking forward to her eldest son’s homecoming and wanted this to be the best Christmas ever. Time was a great healer, and if only Vivian could find it in her heart to forgive Vinny it would make her the happiest woman alive. Vinny had made a mistake in driving under the influence and it had cost Lenny his life, but he’d loved his cousin and did not deserve to be punished for what was clearly an accident. A stupid accident. God had already punished him enough by taking Molly away.
Queenie’s dark thoughts were erased by her sister’s arrival. ‘You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen?’ Vivian teased.
‘Enlighten me?’
‘Them next door loading their stereo system in his van.’
Queenie burst out laughing. Since Michael had waded in with his fists and whatever else he’d used, she and Viv had barely heard a peep from their nuisance neighbours. The cat was still a bastard pest, kept shitting in the garden, but all else had been peaceful until the other night when the adults had gone out and the boys had played their music at full blast. ‘Told you that rough old malt looked petrified when I pulled her yesterday, didn’t I? Especially when I told her Vinny was coming home, and he had a far worse temper on him than my Michael. She went as white as my cotton sheets.’
‘Serves her bleedin’ well right. Shouldn’t have been so disrespectful towards us in the first place,’ Vivian cackled.
Having left the back door open to get rid of the condensation from her oven, Queenie froze as she heard noises coming from the kitchen. ‘Did you hear that?’
Vivian nodded and grabbed the fire poker.
Queenie flung open the kitchen door and flinched in terror as she spotted the unwanted intruder. Ever since Chester had scratched her face she’d kept her distance from the horrid creature, and here it was brazenly stood on her kitchen top eating her sausage rolls.
‘Get away. Go on, shoo you bastard,’ Vivian yelled, inching towards Chester with the poker.
When the ginger-and-white monster stood on its hind legs hissing wildly with an evil glint in its eye, both Queenie and Vivian screamed, then ran.
Daniel and Lee Butler were in deep discussion at the local comprehensive. Today was the last day of term, and they were allowed to wear their own clothes instead of the usual horrible uniform and bring in games to play.
Having brought Cluedo into school, Daniel made sure nobody was looking as he lifted the lid off the box. ‘The Butlers are gonna do the Bakers this weekend with the knife.’
Lee stared at the flick knife in horror, then slammed the lid back on the box. ‘You gotta be kidding, Dan. We can’t get locked up before Christmas. Dad’s bought us a Space Invader and Pac-Man machine.’
Daniel grinned. He adored his brothers, but was by far the strongest character out of the three, and thoroughly enjoyed his role as leader of the pack. ‘As Dad always says, “An eye for an eye.” Those Baker boys won’t grass us up. They know who we are now and will be far too scared. Nobody breaks my bones and gets away with it, Lee, and I mean fucking nobody.’
Sammi-Lou Allen was feeling down in the dumps. Being heavily pregnant was no fun, neither was living with Little Vinny. Her once loving, attentive boyfriend had changed beyond recognition since she told him about the baby, and Sammi couldn’t help but think it was God’s way of paying her back for her lies and deceit.
When Sammi had first met Little Vinny it had been love at first sight for her. She’d seen the way other girls looked at him, and it had made her paranoid about losing him. That was why, within six weeks of their first date, Sammi had decided to stop taking her birth-control pill. She hadn’t particularly wanted a baby at such a young age, but she was determined to keep hold of her man.
That plan seemed to have backfired now though. Sammi-Lou had thought she might be pregnant many weeks before she’d bothered to do a test and Little Vinny had been furious to learn, soon after she’d broken the news, that she was already twenty weeks gone. He’d accused her of trapping him, then called her every name under the sun.
Feeling the baby kick again, Sammi sat on the sofa, put her head in her hands and wept. She hadn’t admitted to her parents how bad things were. She was afraid her dad would kick off and be at loggerheads with the Butlers. Her father had kitted out a lovely three-bedroom house he owned in Harold Wood with every mod-con going so that they would want for nothing. He would go mental if he knew that Little Vinny rarely bothered coming home at nights any more, and when he did he was paralytic and abusive. She hadn’t even told her parents that her boyfriend had smashed his car up and had his driving licence taken away.
When the phone rang, Sammi answered it immediately. ‘Hi, Mum. You OK?’
‘Fine, darling. Me and your dad will be passing yours this afternoon. We’ve bought some more presents for the baby. Just checking you were in.’
Lying through her teeth and putting on a brave face was something Sammi-Lou had become accustomed to recently. ‘Sorry, Mum. We’re just on our way out. Vinny’s treating me and bubba lump to lunch in a posh restaurant up town.’
Meg Allen put the phone down, and took a deep, calming breath. Mother’s intuition told her all she needed to know and she couldn’t keep lying to her husband. Afraid of starting World War Three, Meg had kept her fears to herself for weeks now. But enough was enough, and as soon as Gary got home she would tell him the truth. Sod the Butlers’ reputation. Her daughter’s welfare came first.
Little Vinny Butler was woken up by a pair of lips around his todger. ‘Fucking get off me. Whaddya think you’re doing?’ he yelled, leaping out of bed.
‘Carrying on from where we left off earlier. What’s your problem?’
Little Vinny stared at the blonde tart in disgust. She had a posh voice, and looked about thirty.
‘Just get dressed and get lost. I’ve got a thousand and one things to do today.’
Felicity Frost-Hunter was not used to being spoken to like a piece of dirt. She was the managing director of a fashion magazine and worth a fortune, thanks to her ex-husband whom she’d recently divorced. ‘Well, what a charming young man you are. Your parents must be so proud.’
Still high on the cocaine he’d been snorting until he’d crashed out in the early hours, Little Vinny was unable to control his temper. He grabbed Felicity by her long permed hair, then spat in her face. ‘You know nothing about my parents, you stinking old whore. Now do yourself a favour and fuck off. You have two minutes to leave before I really lose my rag. Posh, rich slags like you are ten a penny – and don’t you ever forget that.’
Startled by the evil glint in her latest one-night-stand’s eyes, Felicity Frost-Hunter hurriedly got dressed. Her ex-husband had been unable to get an erection for some time, which was probably why she’d gone a bit wild since they’d split up. If
this awful experience had taught her anything though, it was that toyboys were not for her. To spit in someone’s face was an absolutely disgusting act.
As soon as he heard the old slapper leave, Little Vinny yelled Ahmed’s name. Receiving no reply, he wandered into the kitchen and saw the note on the worktop.
Sorry I had to get off early, Vin. You take today off, sort yourself out and catch up with your dad. I’ll pop down the club over the weekend to see him myself. Always remember, what happens between friends stays between friends. I will never mention a word to your dad about any of your shenanigans and neither must you.
Bell me if you need anything,
Ahmed
Feeling more messed up than ever, Little Vinny splashed his face with cold water. He used the excuse of losing his licence for not sharing his girlfriend’s bed these days. Told Sammi it made more sense to stay at a pad Ahmed owned in Camden than to be wasting money on cabs every night.
Little Vinny reached for his wallet and took out the photo of him and Sammi-Lou. It had been taken in a photo-booth on one of their early dates and they looked the perfect couple. Sammi was beautiful, and in his heart Little Vinny knew she’d probably be the love of his life. Besides, he was too dysfunctional for any other girl to put up with him.
Putting his weary head in his hands, he cursed the unborn child that was making his life a misery. He kept having nightmares that the baby was born and when he looked into the crib he saw Molly reincarnated. If it was a girl and looked even remotely like his sister, Little Vinny knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Guilt was an evil thing to live with.
Langan’s was not the restaurant Vinny Butler would have chosen to eat in today. Owned by Peter Langan and the famous actor Michael Caine, the gaff was classy, but far too poncey for Vinny’s liking. Especially at this time of year. It was full of what he liked to refer to as Hooray Henrys.
Never one to miss a trick, Vinny’s eyes scanned the joint. Champagne was being knocked back like it was going out of style, and it was this type of clientele that would soon be making him an absolute fortune. Vinny had kept track of the outside world via newspapers whilst banged up, and he was well aware that the yuppie brigade had now taken over London. That’s why he was going to invest in a plush wine bar. Anything was better than working back at the club. He’d never wanted to be the owner of a poxy discotheque in the first place, and the gaff would just be a constant reminder of how his beautiful daughter had met her maker.
The Wronged Page 15
