Standing either side of Brenda were Tara and Tommy. ‘Dave and Mum had a row. Then we got chucked out of Dave’s mum’s house,’ young Tommy informed his grandmother.
‘And now we haven’t got no dinner. We’re starving, Nan,’ Tara added.
Queenie sighed. No way could she see her grandchildren starve. ‘Nanny’s got plenty of grub. Go in the bathroom and wash your hands, kids.’
‘I should think so too. I am your daughter and they’re your grandchildren,’ Brenda reminded her mother.
Queenie grabbed hold of Brenda’s arm as she attempted to barge past. ‘I’m warning you, young lady. You get pissed and perform, you’re straight out this door – and so are Tara and Tommy. Behave, or else.’
Over at the Prestons’, the mood was sombre and the food virtually untouched.
‘Where do you think Dad is, Mum? The pub only opens until two today, so he can’t be there,’ Joanna said.
‘I have no idea, love. Probably pissed, wherever he is. Has a habit of turning to alcohol when the going gets tough, does your daddy,’ Deborah spat.
‘You talking about my daddy?’ Ava asked innocently.
Unable to control her emotions or temper any longer, Deborah screamed, ‘Shut up, Ava. You haven’t got a fucking daddy.’
‘You OK, Bren? Kids are getting big, eh?’ Albie said awkwardly.
‘No. I’m not OK. I know how pushed out you must’ve felt now. Mum’s only ever wanted her boys. She don’t ever fuss over Tara and Tommy like a grandma should, because they’re my kids. No wonder I drink too much. She should be fucking ashamed of herself.’
‘Who’s “she”, the cat’s mother?’ Vinny snarled, snatching the glass of wine out of his sister’s hand.
‘Give us that back,’ Brenda yelled, lunging towards her brother.
When Vinny pushed his sister and Brenda flew into the table lamp with such force it smashed, Michael saw red and squared up to his brother. ‘You wanna fight with someone, fight with me, big man.’
‘Get out my face, Michael, before I knock your spark out,’ Vinny warned.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Queenie yelled, standing between her warring sons.
‘See what I mean, Dad? I’m lying here injured and all that old cow’s bothered about is her precious sons.’
‘Don’t talk about your mother like that, Brenda. Apologize to her now,’ Vivian ordered.
Grabbing hold of Brenda’s arm, Queenie screamed, ‘Get out! Go on, out my house, now! Nothing but a fucking drunken trouble-maker you are. Go on, sling your hook.’
Jay Boy looked on in amazement as Queenie Butler manhandled her daughter out the front door. Jay had thought his family Christmases had been mad back in Liverpool, but he’d never experienced anything like this one before, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for Brenda’s kids. They’d had the door slammed in their faces as well.
‘Mum, you can’t just chuck Bren out like that. It ain’t fair on Tara and Tommy. Let me sort it,’ Michael said.
Standing with her back against the door, Queenie shook her head vehemently. ‘This is my house, Michael, therefore I make the rules. I warned Brenda that if she performed she was out on her ear. She ain’t ruining my Christmas.’
‘But it ain’t just about Bren. What about your grandchildren?’ Michael argued.
When Brenda began knocking on the window shouting abuse, Queenie ordered Vinny to get rid of her. ‘It’s all your fault the way that girl’s turned out, Albie. Seeing you stagger home all through her childhood has obviously damaged her for life.’
‘Don’t start on Dad, Mum. Brenda’s got worse since she took up with that pisshead from Dagenham. Blame him if you want someone to blame,’ Michael shouted.
‘Bren inherited your father’s bastard genes,’ Queenie insisted.
Albie couldn’t be bothered arguing with Queenie today. What was the point? In her warped mind, the old witch was always right anyway.
‘Well?’ Queenie asked Vinny.
‘They’ve gone. I gave the kids their presents and Bren the money for a cab. I told her to visit when sober to collect her own presents.’
Queenie pursed her lips. ‘You shouldn’t have given her any money. It’ll only go on booze. Good bleedin’ riddance.’
Gary Allen was absolutely seething. Every year since he and Meg had moved to this house, they’d invited close friends and family over on Christmas evening, but today they’d had to cancel. Sammi-Lou was upset and complaining of stomach pains, and his younger daughter Millie had been tearful and terrified ever since the argument.
Gary followed his wife into the kitchen. ‘I’ve made my decision, Meg. First thing tomorrow, I’m going round that house and changing the locks. No way is that shitbag upsetting my family any more. Did you see his eyes? His pupils were massive. Definitely a druggie as well as a drunk.’
‘Shut up about it now, Gary. You’ll upset the girls even more if you keep harping on. Your voice carries, you know.’
‘I want him out of our lives for good, Meg,’ Gary hissed.
‘Mum! Dad! Sammi’s wet herself,’ screamed seven-year-old Millie.
Meg dashed into the lounge. ‘Start the car, Gary, quick! Sammi’s waters have broken.’
Hearing the first chords of Chas and Dave’s ‘Give It to the Girl Next Door’, Queenie Butler leapt off the sofa, turned the volume up full blast, then grabbed her sister by the arm. Every time she and Viv played this song they’d stand by the wall that adjoined them to the Bakers and sing at the top of their voices.
‘Why is Nan and Auntie Viv dancing like that, Mum? Are they drunk?’ Adam asked.
‘No, love. They’re just enjoying themselves,’ Nancy replied, while trying to lip-read what Michael was talking to Albie about. Her husband had been acting strangely these past few days. He’d hardly spent any time at home and when he was there he seemed very distant. Nancy guessed it was because Vinny had been released from prison, as Michael had been fine up until then.
‘Mum, me and Lee are bored. Can we go home and play on the machines?’ Daniel asked.
Nancy had not been best pleased when the three massive games machines had arrived last night. Her dining room currently resembled an amusement arcade, although Michael had promised to have a cabin built down the bottom of the garden so the boys could use that as a games room. ‘No. You’ll have plenty of time to play on the machines over the holiday. Christmas is all about spending time with family, Daniel, so wipe that miserable look off your face and go and talk to your nan and granddad.’
‘Nan’s pissed and Granddad’s boring,’ Daniel replied.
Clipping her son around the ear, Nancy warned him to behave or she’d wash his mouth out with soap.
‘Look, Viv. We got rid of the scumbags. They’re going out in the tosspot’s van,’ Queenie cackled, clapping her hands with glee.
‘Mum, turn that music down now. I wanna have a chat with Michael in the kitchen, and I can’t even hear myself think,’ Vinny complained.
‘Where’s Little Vinny? I thought you said he’d be here,’ Queenie reminded her son.
‘I thought he might just turn up. No idea where he is. Twice I’ve popped round his house and he weren’t in.’
‘Charming! Not even sent me a card. All the things I’ve done for him over the years an’ all. Even had the ungrateful little sod living with me for Christ knows how long.’
Aware that his mother was on her soapbox, Vinny led Michael into the kitchen and handed him an envelope. ‘Open it then. Your present’s inside.’
Michael stared at the formal-looking document. It stated that he now owned seventy-five per cent of the club, Vinny owned twenty-five and there was a box for both their signatures at the bottom. It had already been signed by Vinny’s legal representative.
‘You taking the piss, or what? Why should you still be coining twenty-five per cent out of me if you ain’t even working there?’ Michael asked.
‘You know the reason why. I bought the gaff with Roy in the first
place. This is my final offer, so take it or leave it.’
Michael lit a cigarette, chucked Vinny’s offer on the worktop, and sauntered into the back garden.
Staring at the ginger-and-white moggy who was sitting on the fence giving him the evil eye, Michael debated his future. He’d been in touch with a pal of his who worked in the property game and had been advised that the club was worth far more than he’d imagined. His pal reckoned that, because of the size and location, a property developer would snap it up for a small fortune to build one or two blocks of flats.
No way did Michael ever want to see his beloved disco turned into flats. But he didn’t want to give in to Vinny’s demands either.
Poking his head around the back door, Vinny smirked, ‘Oh and by the way, Pete, Paul and Jay have all agreed to work for me. Merry Christmas, bruv.’
His temper finally exploding, Michael flew at Vinny, grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the conservatory door. ‘You fucking cunt. After everything I’ve done for you! If it wasn’t for me, your son would currently be locked up for murder, you ungrateful piece of shit. Bet he didn’t tell you he killed Alison Bloggs, did he? Silly bastard left a bunch of keys in her house – including the keys to our club. Muggins ’ere was the one who cleaned up after him.’
Vinny was stunned. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Do I look like I’m fucking kidding? He killed Alison to get even for Ben, by all accounts. Dosed her up on Temazepam, then slit her wrists. The Old Bill wrote it off as suicide, thank God. Wouldn’t have done if they’d have found that bunch of keys there though, eh?’
Face drained of colour, Vinny sank to his haunches. ‘When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Michael was pleased to see his cocky brother looking as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him. ‘You had enough on your plate in nick. Unlike you, Vin, I’m not a selfish cunt. I think of others. Anyway, I dealt with it and I promised Little Vinny I wouldn’t say anything. So keep it between us. No point confronting the boy now. It’s old news.’
Vinny was holding his head in his hands when his mother flung open the door. ‘You’d better come quick. The Old Bill are here. They reckon Daniel stabbed the boy next door.’
Sammi-Lou Allen was petrified. The pain she was in was the worst ever, far more horrendous than the tooth infection she’d had last summer.
‘You need to push, darling. The baby needs you to push,’ Meg urged, squeezing her daughter’s clammy hand. When Sammi had first announced her pregnancy, Meg had been just as horrified as Gary, but now things were different. This poor baby was going to be born premature and if her first grandchild was destined not to survive, Meg would be heartbroken.
‘I can’t push, Mum. It hurts too much. Please ring Vinny. I need him,’ Sammi-Lou screamed.
Queenie Butler gave a sigh of discontent as she flopped onto the armchair. Resting her aching feet against the pouffe, she turned to her sister. ‘Oh well, that’s another Christmas I’d rather forget. What is it with our family? Every year there’s drama. Why can’t we just eat, drink, be merry and play charades like every other bastard does?’
Vivian chuckled. ‘You’d be bored shitless playing charades. You don’t even like watching Give Us a Clue.’
‘Yes I do. When you’re not rabbiting all the way through it, that is.’
‘Fancy a Babycham?’ Vivian asked.
‘Nah. Pour me a sherry or a port.’
‘But we always have a Babycham at Christmas,’ Vivian reminded her sister.
‘Go on then.’
Vivian handed her sister the drink, then stood in front of her.
‘What the bleedin’ hell you doing?’
‘Playing charades. Now shush.’
‘One,’ Queenie shouted, flapping her arms.
‘Chicken?’
Vivian shook her head.
‘Bird?’
‘Duck?’
‘Emu?’
‘I’m flying, you ignoramus. Emus can’t fly,’ Vivian hissed.
‘One day, I’ll fly away,’ Queenie screamed, referring to the Randy Crawford song.
Losing her patience, Vivian bellowed sarcastically, ‘It’s a film!’
‘What is it then?’
‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I thought it was rather apt for our family.’
‘It is, very apt. No need to get your knickers in a twist because I didn’t guess it, though.’
Vivian burst out laughing. ‘Happy fucking Christmas.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Morning, sweetheart. Mummy’s going to make breakfast. Would you like your favourite?’ Joanna asked her daughter.
Although egg, sausage and beans were tempting, Ava shook her head before pulling the quilt up over her face.
Joanna sat on the edge of Ava’s bed. ‘What’s the matter, darling? You can talk to your mum about anything, you know.’
‘Nanny said I haven’t got a daddy,’ Ava wept.
Lifting the quilt off her daughter, Joanna wiped her tears away and held Ava in her arms. As much as it pained her, after discussing things with Darren last night she knew what she had to do. ‘Your daddy is the man you met yesterday, Ava.’
Confused, Ava stopped crying. ‘But you and Nanny said he wasn’t.’
‘Sometimes adults do and say things in life because they think it’s the right thing to do. In this case, Mummy was wrong to fib to you. Would you like to see your daddy again?’
Ava’s face lit up. ‘Will he buy me more nice presents?’
‘Morning, boy. You’re up bright and early. You feeling better today?’ Queenie asked. Vinny had been in tears late last night over Molly.
‘Much better, thanks. No point wallowing in self-pity. Nothing is gonna bring Molly back, so my aim is to concentrate solely on the future from now on. I was thinking, I know how much you and Auntie Viv loved Kings. How about I treat you to a bungalow or chalet on a different holiday camp? I’ll always run yous down there and pick you up. There’s another Kings on Canvey Island. I think it’s owned by Ray King’s brother. That would be half the journey of the Eastbourne one.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks. No way will any holiday park match up to Kings in Eastbourne. Can’t see Prince Charles and the Three Degrees slumming it in Canvey, can you?’ Queenie said bitterly. She’d been devastated when her sons’ violent behaviour had got the whole family barred from using the facilities. Both herself and Viv had adored getting glammed up to the nines and watching all the big star acts they’d only ever seen on TV before. ‘So what you up to today?’ Queenie asked, changing the subject.
‘Colin’s picking me up at half ten. I’m gonna travel down to Tillingham with him to see what the Prestons have decided. Might even come face to face with that wanker Johnny, but I’m gonna keep me cool if I do. I just wanna see Ava again, even if it’s only for ten minutes. There was an instant bonding between us, Mum. I swear I weren’t imagining it. I can’t wait for her to be a big part of our lives.’
‘And what if the Prestons refuse to play ball? I can’t see them wanting Ava visiting me somehow.’
‘I’ll sort it, Mum, don’t you worry. Nobody will stop Ava becoming a big part of our lives. And if that means I have to take drastic measures, then so be it.’
Queenie smiled. ‘That’s my boy.’
Little Vinny had no recollection of going to bed last night, neither did he recall Ahmed leaving. There was a racked-up line on the bedside table next to an empty bottle of Scotch and Little Vinny felt nauseous just looking at them. Drink and drugs had never really agreed with him and he knew in his heart if his life was to improve he had to knock both on the head.
Self-loathing was an awful feeling, and Little Vinny despised himself right now. Molly’s death and Ben’s suicide haunted his thoughts, and he couldn’t believe he’d messed things up even more with Sammi-Lou by turning up round her house off his face. Why the hell hadn’t Ahmed stopped him from mugging himself off yet again?
&
nbsp; Wondering if Sammi-Lou had contacted him, Little Vinny ran down the stairs. The light was bleeping on the answerphone. Praying that the caller wasn’t his father, or Gary Allen demanding he moved out the house, Little Vinny pressed play.
‘Vinny, it’s Meg. Sammi-Lou has gone into early labour and is desperate for you to be here. We’re at Rush Green Hospital. Don’t worry about Gary. I’ll deal with him.’
The second message that Meg had left wasn’t quite so friendly. ‘You’ve got a son, you useless little arsehole. He’s in the special care unit to help his lungs function. Sammi’s in pieces, bless her heart. You stay away from her and that child from now on, do you hear me? Oh, and pack your things. Gary will be round the house tomorrow to change all the locks.’
Little Vinny sank to his knees and wept. He was so relieved that he had a son, rather than a daughter. Knowing that God probably hated him for his past sins, Little Vinny chose to pray to him anyway. ‘Dear God, I am so sorry for what I did to my little sister, but please don’t take that out on my son. I swear to you, if you let my boy live, I’ll be the best dad he could wish for. Amen.’
Johnny Preston was in sheepish mode. He knew he’d disappointed his wife and daughter. ‘Look, I’m sorry about going into one yesterday and storming out like I did. I just couldn’t believe that bastard had the nerve to turn up here. You have to remember if it wasn’t for him killing my mate Dave, I’d never have spent all those years in nick. I hate the geezer with a passion.’
‘And so do I and so does Joanna. But throwing all your toys out the pram isn’t going to solve anything, is it? We have to be adult about this because nothing is going to change the fact that Vinny is Ava’s father,’ Deborah said.
‘But I can’t abide the thought of him having contact with her,’ Johnny spat.
‘And neither can I, but Ava is Jo’s daughter, therefore Jo will be the one who decides such matters. Tell him what you told me, love.’
Joanna squeezed her father’s hands. ‘Dad, I know this is hard for all of us, but I had a long chat with Darren yesterday and I think he’s right. If we keep running, now that Vinny knows Ava exists he will find us wherever we go. Also I’m happy living here. Darren can’t just up sticks because of Shane, Mum loves it in Burnham, you have a decent job, and Ava has made lots of friends at nursery. I think we should allow Vinny access, but only on our terms. I don’t want him taking her to Whitechapel in case she ever gets caught in the middle of some crossfire, but I will allow him to see her if I’m present. Don’t get me wrong, being in Vinny’s company is the last thing I want, but Darren has promised to be there too. What do you think?’
The Wronged Page 22
