The Wronged

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘You OK, bruv? You seem distant. Don’t be worrying too much about Little Vinny. Once he’s away from Ahmed and working back at the club with us, he’ll be fine,’ Michael insisted.

  When Michael’s bad news had turned out to be concerns over his son’s recent behaviour, Vinny had been relieved. He’d thought for a split second that Joanna had done a runner with Ava. ‘I’m OK. Just feels a bit surreal to be free at long last. I’ll have a man-to-man chat with Little Vinny tomorrow. He’s been a complete mug to get that little tart of his up the spout, so if he’s gone off the rails a bit, there’s your reason. Gonna have to man up and be a good dad once the kiddie arrives, ain’t he? I’m gonna have to clump him though. Handsome geezer like me can’t be referred to as granddad at my age. It’s gonna proper ruin me street cred!’ Vinny chuckled.

  ‘Your son being spotted at a whorehouse in North London out of his box at three in the morning with Ahmed ain’t no laughing matter, Vin. And I’m sure he isn’t living with that bird. Every time I ring up, the girl says he isn’t there. Something’s amiss, I’m telling you, and I wouldn’t put it past that mate of yours to have got Little Vinny on the gear. Dad’s really worried about him an’ all. After not having seen hide nor hair of him for weeks, he popped up to Ahmed’s bar in Liverpool Street to catch him at work. Dad reckons Little Vin’s lost weight and looked well rough.’

  ‘Our father’s a fine one to speak about losing weight and looking rough, isn’t he? Little Vinny’s my son and I’ll do the worrying, Michael. The boy might be on the piss, but no way would Ahmed give him gear. He has too much respect for me to do that, and he knows I’d go apeshit if I ever found out.’

  ‘I just think the sooner the boy is working back at the club with us, the better.’

  ‘Michael, you know full well I won’t be working back at the club. I told you that when you first insisted on keeping the gaff. Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad your idea was a success and I’m grateful for all the dosh you’ve earned us in my absence. But unless you change your mind and invest in a wine bar with me, it’s definitely time for us to go our separate ways.’

  Michael had felt for some time that a parting of the ways was inevitable, but he’d never have believed it could be this amicable. He’d chosen Langan’s as a venue in the hope it would make Vinny keep things civilized; it seemed it was working. ‘No way am I giving up the club, Vin. We don’t get on like we once did and I reckon it’ll be for the best if we both become our own bosses now. I’ve never been keen on that wine-bar idea. It ain’t my scene.’

  ‘Fair enough. As soon as I’ve checked with my accountant that I’ve received half of everything we’ve earned since I’ve been away, I’ll sign the club over to you.’

  ‘Deal,’ Michael said, eagerly holding out his right hand.

  Registering the elation in Michael’s eyes, Vinny smirked. It was time to deliver that final blow he’d been gagging to deliver for ages. ‘Oh, plus you’ll have to pay me half of what the property is currently worth before I sign it over. And you’ll need to sort yourself out new staff. Pete and Paul will be coming to work for me, so will Jay Boy.’

  ‘Very funny, bruv.’

  When Vinny had first guessed this was Michael’s plan he’d been very hurt. If the boot had been on the other foot and it was one of Michael’s kids who’d been murdered, Vinny was sure he’d have understood his brother’s dilemma and agreed to sell up. Didn’t being family and working together mean anything to Michael? How could he carry on working in that place after Molly’s death?

  ‘Vin, this is some kind of joke, right?’

  Glad that Michael’s smug look had turned to one of shock, Vinny took a sip of his drink and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Michael. It was mine and Roy’s dosh that originally purchased that premises. Paul and Pete were our pals who we employed from day one. Jay Boy is my mate too, so all this makes perfect sense to me. You was nothing to do with the business at the beginning, was you?’

  ‘But I was something to do with the business when we moved to the other club down the Commercial Road, then bought this one back.’

  ‘Yes, but those clubs bought themselves through profit we’d made, Michael. You never came up with any hard cash to help buy one, did you?’

  Knowing that Vinny had him over a barrel because, legally, he owned the bulk of the club, a furious Michael slammed his glass down on the table. ‘You’re a fucking no-good shitcunt, Vinny. Always have been and always will be.’

  Clocking a table full of posh types all looking their way, Vinny turned to the gawpers and smiled. ‘I do apologize for my brother’s foul language. You can take this one out of the East End but he’ll always be a cockney barrow-boy.’

  When Michael snatched up his Crombie overcoat and stormed out of the restaurant, Vinny asked the waiter for the bill. He’d waited a long time for this moment; it was the only thing that had helped him keep his temper in check when Michael used to come swanning into the nick, giving it large. Enjoyable as it would have been to smash Michael’s smug face into that visiting-room table, this was even better. His little brother had needed to be brought down a peg or two and Vinny thought he’d done it in complete and utter style.

  Savouring the rest of his Scotch by swilling it around his mouth before swallowing, Vinny Butler smirked. He was not a man to be underestimated, so more fool those who tried. Anybody who wronged him would pay the price for their stupidity, and Michael was no exception.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sammi-Lou was dozing when she heard the front door slam. ‘That you, Vin? I’m glad you’re home. I haven’t been feeling well at all these past couple of days.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t Vin. He’s probably waiting for you at the posh restaurant up town you told your mother you was going to,’ Gary Allen replied angrily.

  When both her parents marched into the lounge, Sammi-Lou was furious. She’d made her father promise that he would never use his own key. She insisted it invaded her and her boyfriend’s privacy, yet here he was, standing in front of her with a face like thunder. ‘What you doing? You swore to me you’d never just walk in without my permission. I will never trust you again.’

  ‘Perhaps me and your mother feel the same about you, Sam. Why you lying to us? And where exactly is that toe-rag of a boyfriend of yours? Because if he hasn’t been home for the past couple of days, he’ll regret it when I get my hands on him.’

  Meg grabbed her husband’s arm. ‘Just calm down, you’re making matters worse. I want to talk to Sammi alone.’

  ‘I have as much right to know what’s going on as you, Meg. I said that little bastard was a wrong ’un in the first place, didn’t I?’

  When her daughter became distressed, Meg pushed Gary towards the front door. ‘Go and have a pint at that pub round the corner. Give us a half-hour at least, then come back more sympathetic. I know you’re upset, Gary, but your attitude is enough to send poor Sammi into an early labour. Use your loaf, for goodness’ sake.’

  After storming out of Langan’s, Michael was now propping up the bar in one of those poxy gaffs his untrustworthy, manipulative arsehole of a brother wanted to buy. No way was Vinny getting away with treating him like this. The money their accountant showed to the taxman was stashed in a joint business account, but there was plenty more that wasn’t and if Vinny wanted to play silly games, then Michael would too.

  ‘Yes, sir. What can I get you?’

  ‘A brandy, mate. And make it a large one.’

  Fleetingly Michael wondered whether he should seek legal advice, but immediately dismissed the idea. The club had robbed the taxman of a fortune over the years and it certainly wasn’t worth opening up that can of worms. If he was going to fight Vinny, then he’d have to stand up to him like the man he now was.

  About to take a sip of his drink, Michael heard a distinctive laugh behind him and nearly dropped the glass in shock. It couldn’t be her, could it? Last he’d heard, she was living in New York.

  Joy and Chri
stmas spirit filled the air as Michael scanned the packed bar for the source of the laughter. People were draped in tinsel and wearing silly hats, obviously celebrating now that they’d finished work until the New Year.

  He was just telling himself that his mind must have been playing tricks on him when he spotted her. She had her back towards him, but her stunning figure, long legs and flowing glossy dark hair were unmistakable. His heart somersaulted in recognition. There was no question it was her: Bella.

  Nancy Butler was busy washing up when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. ‘Oi, where d’ya think you’re going?’

  Daniel, Lee and Adam stopped in their tracks. ‘We’re just popping out for a bit. We’ll meet you round Nan and Granddad’s,’ Daniel informed his mother.

  ‘Oh no you won’t. You’re only just back in your granddad’s good books and he’ll be furious if you turn up late and looking scruffy. I want you all to have a bath and put on something smart.’

  ‘Why?’ Daniel spat.

  ‘Because I bloody said so. And if you dare be rude to Uncle Christopher, Olivia or those kids, I swear you’ll be grounded until the New Year.’

  ‘Stupid cow,’ Daniel muttered as he ran up the stairs. He had wanted to try and ambush the Baker boys before heading off to his nan’s.

  ‘What we gonna do now?’ Lee asked. He was still very uneasy about the whole idea.

  Daniel took the knife out of his pocket and hid it under his mattress. ‘We’ll have to do it tomorrow instead.’

  ‘Say we accidentally kill ’em? We’ll be sent to that bad boys’ place and we won’t get our presents,’ Adam said.

  ‘Stop being such a namby-pamby. If you don’t wanna come with us tomorrow, then stay ’ere with Mum. Lee will help me.’

  ‘I’m not a namby-pamby, and I do wanna come with you.’

  ‘Well, stop whingeing then.’

  Gary Allen let himself back in the house and poked his head in the lounge. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Upstairs, packing a few things. I’ve talked her into coming to stay with us over Christmas.’

  ‘So, what’s been going on?’

  ‘Vinny’s lost his driving licence and they haven’t been getting on too well. By the sounds of it he stays most nights at a pal’s nearer to where he works.’

  ‘Fucking little dickhead. To think I put a roof over his head an’ all. Who does he think he is, treating our Sammi like that? She’s pregnant and he should be here for her, end of.’

  ‘I know. They’re only kids them bloody selves. That’s where the problem lies.’

  ‘Well, he won’t live to make old bones if he upsets our daughter any more, Meg. In fact, I think I’ll pay that uncle of his a little visit at his club tomorrow. He seemed quite a reasonable—’

  Having overhead the end of the conversation, Sammi burst into the room shouting. ‘I told you not to tell him, Mum. I don’t want Vinny confronted, nor his uncle. This is my problem and I want to deal with it in my own way. Dad sticking his two penn’orth in will just make things a hundred times worse.’

  When her daughter began to cry, Meg put her arms around her and glared at Gary. ‘Your father won’t be confronting anybody, darling. If he does, he can expect my divorce papers in the post.’

  Queenie and Vivian were enjoying their first mince pies of the festive season accompanied by a glass of port when there was a loud banging at the door. ‘Why don’t they use the bleedin’ bell? If it’s any neighbours wanting to pop in for Christmas drinks I shall tell ’em to eff orf. Nosy bastards only wanna see what new furniture and bits and bobs I’ve bought,’ Queenie said, before yanking open the front door.

  ‘OK if me and the kids come to you for Christmas, Mum? Dave’s going to his mum’s and I can’t stand the old bag,’ Brenda said loudly.

  Queenie glanced up and down the road, before dragging her dishevelled-looking daughter inside. She’d obviously had a tipple and Queenie only hoped the neighbours hadn’t clocked her. Whenever they asked about Brenda these days, Queenie always lied and said how well she was doing.

  ‘What you drinking? Can I have one?’ Brenda asked, pointing at Vivian’s glass.

  ‘No, you bloody well can’t. Look at the state of you! Ashamed to call you my daughter, I am. You ain’t arf let yourself go again, girl, since you’ve been with that tosspot. Where are the kids?’

  ‘At school.’

  ‘Can’t be at bleedin’ school now, can they? It’s nearly five.’

  ‘Well, they’ll be indoors then, and Lauren’ll be there with them,’ Brenda lied. She had no idea whether her boyfriend’s seventeen-year-old daughter would be at home or not.

  Vivian shook her head in disgust. Tara, Brenda’s daughter, was twelve, her son Tommy, just seven. ‘Poor little mites. Latch-key kids.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’ Brenda spat.

  ‘What kids were called back in our day when they came home to an empty house and had to fend for themselves. You’re a terrible mother, Brenda. You always was,’ Queenie chided.

  ‘Pot calling kettle,’ Brenda sneered.

  The sound of the doorbell stopped Queenie from clouting her daughter. ‘Take her out in the kitchen, Viv, and make her a coffee to sober her up. And shut the door while I see who this poxy nuisance is.’

  ‘Hello, Queenie. Happy Christmas,’ Nosy Hilda said, holding out a card.

  ‘There’s a letterbox there. Didn’t you see it?’

  ‘I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas personally, and I knew you were in because I saw your Brenda arrive. Is she OK?’

  ‘That wasn’t my Brenda. It was Michael’s new cleaner at the club. She’s doing a bit of work for me. I want the house sparkling because my Vinny comes home today.’

  ‘I could have sworn it was your Brenda.’

  ‘Nope. It wasn’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy cooking. Merry Christmas,’ Queenie said, slamming the door in Hilda’s face.

  Bored with her father and brother droning on about Christopher’s work in the police force, Nancy Butler wandered into the kitchen. ‘Do you need a hand with anything, Mum?’

  ‘No. Everything’s under control, thanks love. The boys are well behaved, aren’t they?’

  ‘I brought them some games round to keep them quiet. They seem to get bored very easily. Were me and Chris like that when we were kids?’

  ‘All kids have their moments, Nance. I was lucky with you because you were a little bookworm. Then you reached sixteen and fell in love with Michael Butler, of all people. That Enid Blyton has a lot to answer for, I can tell ya.’

  Nancy chuckled. After many ups and downs, she and Michael had been getting on OK recently. Her husband wasn’t the most romantic of men as a rule, so Nancy had been thrilled when he’d surprised her with an early thirteenth anniversary present and taken her to a posh manor house in the countryside. They rarely ever spent any time alone, and it had been so nice to be just the two of them. Her mum had stayed at hers to look after the boys. She’d been in on the surprise.

  ‘So how was your dirty weekend away?’

  ‘It was really lovely. The food was to die for, and we visited some smashing olde worlde pubs. There was even this quaint little tea shop where we ate the most gorgeous home-made scones with jam and clotted cream. You and Dad should go there one day. You’d love it.’

  ‘You know what an old stick-in-the-mud your father is, love. He wouldn’t even come on holiday to Eastbourne with us that time. I have to say, I didn’t think I’d ever forgive Michael for showing up at Freda’s funeral in the hope he’d find Dean there, but he’s slowly redeeming himself in my eyes.’

  Freda Smart’s funeral hadn’t been the best of send-offs. Only twenty-odd people had bothered to turn up and those included Michael, a pissed-up Brenda and her big-mouthed boyfriend, all three of them hoping to pounce on poor Dean. Thankfully, Dean had the brains to stay away. Instead he’d left it until the following week to visit his nan’s grave, lay flowers and say his goodbyes with Nancy
at his side.

  ‘Look at what Michael wrote in my card, Mum.’

  Mary looked inside the card.

  Unlucky for some, thirteen!

  Happy Anniversary, babe.

  Love always,

  Mr Butler

  Mary smiled. ‘Why did he give you your card so early? It isn’t your actual anniversary until Christmas day.’

  ‘I’m aware of that – I am married to the man. Michael gave me the card early because the reservation was inside. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason. Well, only that your nan used to say it was terribly unlucky to open an anniversary card early.’

  Nancy sighed. ‘Cheer me up, why don’t you, Mum.’

  Transfixed by her beauty and grace, Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the woman he’d very nearly left Nancy for. Their affair had been brief but truly memorable, and Michael had often wondered about Bella over the years. Was she happy? Had she ever married? Did she have kids?

  Spotting her trying to edge towards the bar, Michael waved a hand.

  Bella gasped and put her hand over her mouth. She could not believe her eyes. ‘Michael! Oh my God!’ she giggled.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just laughing because I’m so happy to see you,’ Bella replied.

  Giving Bella an awkward hug, Michael grinned. ‘It’s great to see you too. You haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Neither have you. You’re still the spitting image of David Essex.’

  ‘Nah. I’ve aged far better than he has,’ Michael quipped. ‘What you drinking? That’s if you’ve got time for a drink, of course. I know you’re with some pals as I clocked you a bit earlier.’