The Wronged

by Kimberley Chambers

  PART FOUR

  My only love sprung from my only hate!

  Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

  Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

  That I must have a loathed enemy.

  William Shakespeare

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘Look, Vin. Oliver’s laughing again,’ Sammi-Lou pointed out.

  ‘I must say that’s a beautiful baby you have. Isn’t he a happy little soul? How old is he?’ a fellow diner asked.

  ‘He’s fourteen weeks,’ Little Vinny told her, tickling Ollie’s tummy.

  When Sammi-Lou began a full-blown conversation with the lady, Little Vinny grinned at his son with pride. The boy had been the making of him, he really had, and Little Vinny absolutely adored being a father. Unlike some, he was very hands on. He thought nothing of changing Ollie’s nappy or getting up to see to him in the night if he cried.

  Having gained weight quickly after leaving the hospital, Oliver was now the same size as most babies his age. His hair was blond, slightly wavy and his eyes had just started to turn from blue to green.

  ‘You really don’t have to do that. Please take it back,’ Sammi-Lou insisted when the lady stood up and put a pound note on the table for Oliver.

  ‘No. I insist. Put it in that little ray of sunshine’s piggy bank.’

  ’Thanks ever so much. Bye.’ Turning to Sammi, Little Vinny said, ‘Nice of her, wasn’t it?’

  Sammi-Lou smiled. Life was absolutely wonderful at present. Little Vinny was a joy to be around these days and they’d not had one cross word since Ollie was born. He’d even changed his work hours and now started earlier and was home by nine every evening. Weekends were spent as a family. They were always going on days out or visiting relatives. Even her dad had finally started to warm towards her boyfriend.

  ‘I’m going to wrap Lee’s present up in here. What time have we got to be at his party?’

  ‘It starts at three and finishes at seven, but we haven’t got to stay until the end,’ Little Vinny explained. It was his cousin Lee’s thirteenth birthday today and Michael was throwing a party for the kid at his club.

  ‘Seeing as we’ve got time to kill, do you mind if I have a mooch round the shops? I don’t really like this outfit I’m wearing.’

  Little Vinny handed Sammi-Lou a fifty-pound note. ‘Go and treat yourself. I’ll wait ’ere with Ollie. I’m still hungry. Gonna order another egg-and-bacon roll.’

  When Sammi-Lou left the café, Little Vinny grinned as he took the box out of his pocket and showed the contents to his son. ‘Look what Daddy’s bought, boy. Whaddya reckon, eh?’

  Over in Whitechapel, Queenie and Vivian had been glued to Queenie’s lounge window for the past hour. The Baker family were moving out and both women were elated.

  ‘State of that sofa, Viv! Looks frowsy, don’t it?’

  ‘Hardly surprising. None of that family ever looked too wholesome to me. I wonder who we’ll get in there next?’

  Queenie shrugged. ‘Probably foreigners, knowing our luck. That’s all you get moving in these days. I saw Fat Beryl down the market yesterday. Got Indians either side of her now. Be like walking through the streets of Calcutta round ’ere soon.’

  ‘Oh well, whoever moves in can’t be any worse than that motley crew. Be glad to see the back of that bastard moggy an’ all. I went to pull up a weed this morning and put me hand straight in a pile of cat shit. Poxy thing was staring at me from the fence. I thought cats buried their turds?’

  Queenie burst out laughing. ‘They do. I reckon you’ll have a win on the Football Pools or Spot the Ball now. Bird shit’s lucky, so why not cat’s?’

  Mary Walker heard the sound of sobbing as soon as she unlocked her daughter’s front door. She ran up the stairs. She’d been terribly worried about Nancy lately and so had Donald. The girl seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  ‘I’m not going to the party, Mum. Michael never came home last night. I rung the club, and the new manager told me Michael was there but busy, like he always says. So I drove to the club just to catch the bastard out, and surprise surprise he was nowhere to be seen. He was with his other woman, I know he was. I’ve found traces of her on his clothes before washing them. She wears a strong musky-scented perfume and has long dark hair.’

  Mary spoke to her daughter gently. ‘Do you remember the last time you thought Michael was playing around? Well, he wasn’t, was he? And look how ill you made yourself, worrying about it. You were found in an alleyway in just your nightclothes. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if that man hadn’t found you while walking his dog? You’d have frozen to death and broken my heart, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’m not ill, Mum. I’m furious. How dare Michael treat me like this? He’s not even rung me today to explain where he was, or ask what time I’m going to the party. Our marriage is dead in the water.’

  ‘All marriages go through bad patches, Nance. Look at mine and your father’s. I bet I know why Michael isn’t coming home at nights. It’s because you’re constantly at one another’s throats. Michael hasn’t forgiven you for wanting to shop Daniel to the police, and you haven’t forgiven him for threatening to divorce you if you went ahead and did so.’

  ‘No. It isn’t that. I know my own husband and I’m telling you now he is seeing another woman. I reckon he met her shortly after we went away for our anniversary. That’s when he went ice-cold on me. Between me and you, Mum, I can even see stains and smell their sex on his underpants.’

  Mary looked at her daughter in horror. Nancy must be ill if she’d resorted to inspecting Michael’s underpants. ‘I really think you should ring the doctor’s surgery first thing on Monday, love, and book yourself an appointment. I’ll come with you of course.’

  ‘And what’s the doctor going to do? Does he possess special powers to stop Michael poking his willy in some whore? Or a magic wand to change my eldest son from an unruly, out-of-control pain in the arse into a loving, gentle boy? The man’s a GP, Mum, not a fucking magician.’

  Johnny Preston drove stony-faced towards the solicitor’s office in Maldon. Since Vinny Butler had come back into their lives it had caused nothing but poxy arguments and he’d had enough of it now. ‘Go any slower and you’ll stop, you wanker,’ Johnny yelled, beeping his horn at the car in front.

  ‘For goodness’ sake calm down, Johnny. And don’t you dare try to overtake on this road. There’s too many bends. Look, I know you’re upset about the letter, and so am I, but killing us in a car crash isn’t the bloody answer.’

  Johnny was more than just upset about the letter that had arrived at his daughter’s house yesterday, he was fucking enraged. ‘I told you as soon as that bastard knocked on our door on Christmas Day that he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. I also told you the only hope we had of ridding ourselves of the cunt was fleeing to Spain. But would you or Jo listen? No, of course not.’

  Deborah decided silence was better than arguing again. Johnny was always right in his mind, so why waste her breath?

  Vinny Butler smirked as he finished counting the previous evening’s takings. His new venture was doing very nicely indeed.

  Having originally planned to open a wine bar, Vinny had had second thoughts after visiting Ahmed’s and a few others. The clientele just wasn’t for him and, seeing as he would be running the establishment, Vinny knew it would only be a matter of time before he murdered then disposed of his first yuppie. Unbearable creatures, they were.

  A trip to Stringfellows had given Vinny a new idea, and he was now the proud owner of Butler’s Gentleman’s Club in Holborn. It had cost a fortune to refurbish, but Vinny loved grandeur. Gold and mahogany was the colour theme. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the chairs and sofas were made from the finest leather.

  Holborn was very much the home of the legal profession, so wanting their custom, Vinny had gone for class. Instead of scantily dressed or topless waitresses he’d opted fo
r the old-fashioned bunny-girl look. There were poles installed on the dance-floor and private booths for gentlemen to enjoy one-to-one dances. There was a no-touching policy, but Vinny generally left that up to the girls themselves. If they wanted to earn a few quid more by letting some old perv touch their tits or snatch, Vinny had no problem with it – providing it was done discreetly.

  Judges, barristers, solicitors and even a few Old Bill all frequented the club. Most were as good as gold, apart from one old judge who had a habit of getting his cock out. The geezer spent a fortune on the girls though, so instead of barring him, Vinny had given him a stern warning. The biggest nuisances of all were the yuppie brigade. They would roll in later in the evening when they’d already had a skinful. Pete, Paul and Jay Boy were always on hand to deal with their rowdy behaviour, and even though Vinny despised the tossers he barred very few as they spent mega-dosh on bottles of his finest champagne.

  To keep out drunken hormonal teenagers, the club had an over twenty-fives policy. The majority of the music played was from the sixties era, which all of his punters bar the yuppies seemed to enjoy. Shirt, trousers and shoes were a must. No way was Vinny allowing scruffy bastards wearing jeans and trainers in.

  ‘Morning, Vin. Banged out yesterday, eh?’ Jay Boy said.

  Vinny grinned. ‘I bet we’re raking in ten times the amount Ahmed does at the wanky wine bar.’

  ‘Dunno why you don’t try opening on a Saturday as well. We might get a different clientele, but I bet we’d still be busy,’ Jay suggested.

  ‘Nah. I’m coining it in as it is and I like having the weekends free now. Gonna be spending more time with Ava soon, eh?’ Vinny chuckled.

  Jay Boy smiled politely. He wished he hadn’t offered to help Vinny on that particular venture, even though he wouldn’t be personally involved because all he’d done was recommend a man for the job. But the job was a bad one.

  Vinny wanted his daughter all to himself, which meant Ava’s mother had to be disposed of.

  Michael Butler hadn’t been much older than Lee when he’d shagged his babysitter – at thirteen you were well on your way to being a man – so he’d cordoned off the majority of the club to let the youngsters do their own thing. There weren’t many adults invited. Just family and close friends, yet Michael was still astounded when Eddie Mitchell appeared with his wife and children. It had been Vinny’s idea to invite them, but Michael hadn’t expected them to come. Ahmed had also been invited, along with his wife and kids, but had politely declined.

  ‘Eddie, so glad you could make it. Vinny’ll be here in a bit.’

  Eddie Mitchell nodded and shook Michael’s hand. ‘This is my beautiful wife Jessica, and these two are my terrible twins, Frankie and Joey.’

  ‘Why do you always have to embarrass us, Dad?’ Frankie Mitchell asked, punching her father on the arm.

  Eddie chuckled. ‘See what I mean? Where’s your wife, Michael? I’m sure she and my Jessica will have plenty to rabbit about.’

  Michael felt embarrassed. Keeping up appearances meant everything in his world. ‘Nancy hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll give her a ring in a minute. In the meantime, what would you like to drink? The bar’s free and there’s plenty of grub. Disco starts in a bit, kids.’

  Michael’s cheesy grin went down well with Joey, who smiled, but not Frankie. She glared back at him and said, ‘We’re not kids, we’re teenagers.’

  Scolding her daughter for being rude, Jessica apologized to Michael.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. My three are far worse,’ Michael chuckled, before being rudely interrupted by his mother asking, ‘What’s that wanker doing here?’

  Excusing himself from the Mitchells, Michael led his mother over to a corner of the bar. ‘Do you always have to show me up? That was Eddie Mitchell and his family I was talking to.’

  ‘I couldn’t care less if it was Jesus Christ himself. Who invited Brenda’s boyfriend?’

  ‘I did. I invited Bren and the kids and she asked if she could bring him. Please don’t start, Mum, not today, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Well?’ Johnny Preston asked as his daughter walked out of the solicitor’s office at the top of Maldon High Street.

  ‘Let’s talk outside, Dad.’

  Knowing by Joanna’s face that the news wasn’t going to be good, Johnny stamped on a nearby empty can.

  Aware that her mum was about to talk to her granddad about her daddy, three-year-old Ava pretended to be asleep as her mother put her in the car and secured her seatbelt. She then waited until her mum’s back was turned before opening the window slightly.

  Joanna faced her parents. ‘To put it bluntly, the solicitor said that if we go to court a judge or magistrate will allow Vinny to spend time with Ava alone. I explained all past history and my concerns like you told me to, Dad, but she said it wouldn’t have much impact on their decision. She also said the court would probably side with Vinny even though he’d served a sentence for manslaughter because of the terrible circumstances surrounding Molly’s death. In other words, because that evil cousin of mine murdered our daughter, we don’t have a leg to stand on.’

  Punching his fist into his hand, Johnny turned to Deborah. ‘Moving abroad is the only way to rid ourselves of that cunt for good. It’s either that or I kill him.’

  Startled, young Ava opened her eyes. She hadn’t understood most of what had been said, but she understood the end bit.

  Back in Whitechapel, Eddie Mitchell was having a couple of sneaky Scotches at the bar with Vinny Butler. Jessica was driving today and hated him drinking Scotch. She said it made him turn nasty, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  ‘Can you imagine if one day me and you decided to go into business together? I would love to see the look on all the plastic gangsters’ faces if that were ever to happen, wouldn’t you?’ Vinny chuckled.

  Eddie grinned. He knew Vinny was half joking, but the actual idea was a possibility. Eddie could only hide so much of his ill-gotten gains through his scrap yard.

  ‘On a serious note, if you’re ever up for doing something between us, just give me the nod,’ Vinny urged.

  Eddie Mitchell had not got to his level in this life without being thoroughly cautious, so he decided that a change of subject was needed. ‘I take it you heard about David Fraser getting banged up? You gotta admire the man’s style. Dressed as Old Bill and went for three million!’ Eddie said, referring to the son of Mad Frankie.

  Vinny chuckled. ‘His brother Patrick’s banged up an’ all now, ain’t he?’

  ‘Yeah. And what about Paddy Price? He’s bang in trouble, he is. The Old Bill dug up the remains of six dead bodies in the grounds of his property last week. He asked me a while back if I knew anyone to dispose of corpses. Thank God I’d realized he weren’t the full shilling and said I didn’t,’ Eddie laughed.

  ‘Between you, me and the gatepost, Ed, do you know a trusted contact who disposes of corpses?’ Vinny asked.

  ‘Yes, I do. Why? You got problems?’

  Thinking of Johnny Preston, Vinny smirked. ‘Nothing I can’t handle. Just might need a fucking nuisance disposed of in the not-too-distant future.’

  Ahmed Zane was in a foul mood. His hotel in Turkey had been shut until further notice because of a fire in the early hours of the morning, and the takings on his wine bar had dipped in the past couple of months since a new one had opened nearby. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Vinny Butler’s new club was raking it in and Vinny’s evil son had sorted himself out and was about to propose to that poor unsuspecting girlfriend of his.

  Snorting a fat line of cocaine, Ahmed handed the rolled-up note to his cousin. ‘The quicker we do away with Vinny and his horror of a son now, the better. The pair of them dying will lift my mood. Did I tell you Vinny invited Eddie Mitchell to Michael’s son’s party before he got around to asking me? As for the child-murderer, he is so busy playing happy families these days he seems to have forgotten he throttled his own little sister. I cannot wait to see Vi
nny’s face when he hears my tape. That will wipe away his cocky smile for ever. He will die a very unhappy man, Burak, then go straight to hell with that son of his. We will give him twenty-four hours to wallow in his grief and then kill him.’

  Nancy Butler took another of Michael’s suits out of the wardrobe and took great joy in cutting it into small pieces with a pair of scissors. If the whore he was shagging could sew, perhaps she could repair them for him?

  Placing the remains of Michael’s expensive suits into a dustbin liner, Nancy then began packing a suitcase with her own belongings. She’d walked down the road to the phone box earlier and rung Dean Smart. Having been married to Brenda Butler, Dean was the only one who truly understood what she was currently going through, and she could be totally honest with him. Dean was still living in Scotland and only had her best interests at heart.

  Lugging the dustbin bags and suitcase downstairs, Nancy rang her mother. ‘Do you mind if I move in with you and Dad for a while until I find myself a place? I have to get out of here. Michael and the boys are driving me doolally.’

  Relieved when her mother agreed instead of giving her another lecture about making a go of her marriage, Nancy replaced the receiver. She’d told her mum to expect her in the next couple of hours. She had something to do first. If she was going to leave her cheating bastard of a husband for good, then she would do it in style.

  Queenie Butler couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She’d been having an awful time earlier. First she’d spotted Daniel drinking alcohol and encouraging his brothers to do the same. Then she’d had to suffer the embarrassment of Brenda and her loser of a boyfriend chucking themselves across the dance floor while all the teenagers laughed at them.

  She’d been about to stomp off home when Little Vinny had come up trumps for once and proposed to Sammi-Lou right in front of her. Queenie loved nothing more than a wedding – excluding her own, of course. Sammi-Lou had immediately said yes, and the happy couple had just gone off to tell Vinny the good news.