‘Nah. They’ve kept well away since Raj got banged up himself. Older and wiser now, I should imagine. Some of ’em have probably been marched up the aisle like me,’ Lee laughed.
‘How is the lovely Beth?’ Michael asked fondly. His son had got married in June ’99 and it had been a fabulous day. The weather was glorious, the venue perfect and, unusually for an event involving the Butlers, the day was drama free. Beth was only five feet tall and Lee towered above her. What she lacked in height, she made up for in personality though. The girl was a cracker and Michael couldn’t have chosen a better wife for his son had he hand-picked one personally.
‘Beth’s good, thanks. She’s doing far too many hours at the hospital though, and we’re still not having much luck on the baby front,’ Lee admitted.
‘These things take time, boy, and the more the pair of you worry about it, the less it’s likely to happen. Beth’s only young, you’ve got years ahead of you to have kids.’
‘She gets so disappointed every month when, you know. I hate seeing her upset,’ Lee replied. At twenty-four Beth was four years his junior, and she’d been adamant lately that there was some underlying reason why she couldn’t conceive.
‘Can’t she have a word with one of the doctors where she works?’ Michael suggested. Beth was a recently qualified nurse and loved her job at Oldchurch Hospital. She and Lee had bought a nice house in Romford, not far from the dog track.
‘I think she feels embarrassed. Anyway, let’s not talk about it no more, let’s talk about Dan. What’s the betting when we ask him what he wants to do first, he’ll want to get his leg over.’
Michael chuckled. Daniel did like a bird or three on the go, and Michael had been the same in his youth. Daniel and Lee had been born seven months apart by two different mothers, and were at different stages in their lives. Both were twenty-eight now, but Dan had never had a serious relationship. He was happy to just love ’em and leave ’em.
‘How’s things with Katy, Dad? And Bella? And Sophie?’ Lee smirked.
Michael raised his eyebrows. At fifty-one, his love life was far more complicated than that of a poxy teenager. When the truth had come out about Bella having a fling with Vinny back in ’91, Michael had been easy pickings for Katy. She’d been kind and incredibly patient with him and he’d been vulnerable and desperate for revenge. In November 1992 their daughter Ellie had been born, and from that moment onwards Michael had felt trapped. He didn’t dislike Katy. She was a good mother and she clearly adored him, but as much as Michael had tried, he couldn’t love her. Their relationship now consisted of him sleeping at his so-called home two nights a week. The rest of the time he stayed in London to help run the casino he’d invested heavily in. Michael wished Katy would call it a day, but she was like a leech that would not let go of him. As long as he fucked her once a week and she could pretend to her friends all was fine and dandy, Katy seemed happy enough to put up with the situation. She liked to keep up appearances and Michael didn’t have the heart or balls to tell her it was over. He would’ve walked away years ago though if it wasn’t for their children. Nathan was fourteen now; a bright lad, who was popular and doing well at school. Ellie was eight and was into horses and showjumping. She was far too spoilt for Michael’s liking, but he wasn’t at home enough to stop Katy giving in to her every whim.
Time was a healer to a certain extent and even though Michael could never forgive or forget, he and Bella were now on speaking terms again. They had to be for the sake of their daughter. Camila had blossomed into a stunning teenager who was destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps and carve out a successful career. She attended a drama school and already had a healthy bank account from shows and TV adverts she’d appeared in, but Michael worried about her constantly. Camila looked far older than her thirteen years and he knew better than anyone how young lads’ minds ticked. He’d only been around Camila’s age when he’d lost his virginity to his babysitter, but his daughter seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders, thankfully. Michael of course put that down to his genes, not Bella’s.
As for Sophie, she was just the latest in a long line of affairs he’d had over the years. An attractive thirty-three-year-old businesswoman, Michael had chatted her up in a restaurant up town and like all the others she’d been unable to say no to his irresistible looks and charm.
‘You awake, Dad? You haven’t answered my question,’ Lee said.
‘Sorry, boy. I was daydreaming. Katy’s OK. Still putting up with me. Bella I spoke to last night. Cami’s appearing in some West End musical soon, so I said I’d go. Sophie’s starting to grate on me to be honest. That’s her been texting every five minutes today. Will have to let her down gently soon, unless she eases off a bit.’
Lee laughed. ‘You do make me smile, Dad. No wonder Daniel won’t settle down. He’s a chip off the old block. Like father, like son.’
Queenie and Vivian were on their soapboxes throughout the programme and felt incredibly sad once it had finished. Sky TV had opened up a whole new world to them. No longer did they have to watch the politically correct shit the BBC shoved down their throats. They now had a choice of channels and could watch anything from nature and sport to re-runs of old soaps, or programmes about the history of the East End like the one they were viewing. Sky had so many channels to choose from, it was unbelievable, and to think Queenie had initially refused Vinny’s offer of having it installed and paid for at his expense. Viv had been that impressed with it, as much as she hated Vinny, she’d allowed him to pay for and install it at hers as well.
‘Those were the days, Viv,’ Queenie said wistfully.
‘They sure were. I’d go back in heartbeat if I could. We might not have had much back then, but we were happy with our little lot.’
‘Have a look out the window, Viv. Is it that motley crew pulling up again? Me legs are killing me today and I want to save ’em for later,’ Queenie moaned. She was seventy-four now and thanks to arthritis hobbled rather than walked some days. She was still young in her mind, kept herself looking good, but her body seemed to have given up on her lately, especially her legs. Full of aches and pains.
‘Yeah. It’s them. Another two going in there I’ve never seen before. Then again, they all look alike, don’t they?’
Nosy Hilda had died a few months ago and Queenie and Viv rued the day she’d croaked it. The council had moved a foreign mob in her house and it seemed the world and its mother were living there. They were always coming and going, especially at night. They also collected scrap and owned a tipper truck, like gypsies.
‘I wonder where they’re from. Mouthy Maureen said they’re Romanian. But how would she know? She could hardly’ve asked ’em. They don’t speak a word of bastard English,’ Queenie said.
‘Fat Brenda reckons they’re Polish,’ Vivian informed her sister.
Queenie shook her head in despair. Her beloved Whitechapel certainly wasn’t what it once was. As much as she’d hated a lot of her old neighbours, now that many had passed away or moved, Queenie and Viv missed them. The notrights who’d lived in the house between them were long gone. Doll had died five years ago and her son Roger had gone to live with his uncle in Clacton. Indians lived there now. They were quiet neighbours and pleasant enough, but the cooking smells that wafted from the house made Queenie and Viv feel ill. They’d never liked the smell of spicy food, and most of their pension was now spent on air fresheners.
The only old neighbours still left were Mouthy Maureen, Stinky Susan and Big Stan and his wife. Even Mrs Agg had left the area. She’d moved to Collier Row with Mabel and Fred. Ava had been fourteen by then and Fred had pined for Mabel that much, Ava had allowed him to live out his latter years with the Jack Russell bitch he’d fallen in love with. She didn’t have as much time for Fred at that stage anyway, as she was out gallivanting with her mates all the time.
‘Shall we watch that royal family programme we recorded?’ Vivian asked Queenie.
‘No. I think we’v
e depressed ourselves enough for one day, don’t you?’
‘I’m gonna make a move then. I shall pop over the cemetery and tidy up Lenny’s grave before I start getting ready.’
‘You sure you ain’t got a secret boyfriend on the go? You only tidied Lenny’s grave up on Monday. It’s bleedin’ freezing today.’
‘Don’t be so bloody daft,’ Vivian replied, hoping she wasn’t blushing. ‘I like a bit of fresh air and it comforts me, visiting my Lenny. When I’m on me own over there I talk to him like he’s still here with me.’
‘Aww, bless ya. What you wearing tonight, by the way?’
‘That mauve dress I bought in Wallis when we last went to Lakeside. You?’
‘I’m wearing me peach frock with the silver round the neck. I can’t wait to see Daniel, bless him. I hope he enjoys the surprise. Blokes can be funny when they come out of nick. My Vinny certainly wasn’t normal.’
Tempted to reply Vinny had never been normal, Vivian instead bit her tongue and smiled. ‘Daniel will be fine. He’s a Butler through and through.’
Daniel Butler grinned as he sauntered towards his father and brother. ‘Oi, Oi. What’s occurring?’
Lee gave Daniel a hug. ‘Free as a bird again, and not before bloody time – it’s your turn to start putting in some shifts at the club,’ he joked.
Michael put an arm around his son’s shoulders as they made the way back to the car. Daniel had sailed through his sentence and looked as fit as a fiddle, thanks to his new obsession with the gym. ‘What shall we do first then, boy? I was thinking a nice T-bone steak and a couple of bottles of bubbly.’
‘Sounds good to me. Can we shoot over to Charlton first though? I’m on a promise with that Janine bird. You can wait outside. I’ll only be ten minutes.’
Michael looked at Lee and both burst out laughing.
Queenie sobbed into a handkerchief. Bored, she’d decided to watch the programme about the royals after all, and as always it had upset her immensely.
There’d been some awful tragedies in the nineties, the Dunblane massacre being one of them. But there were two events that had affected Queenie incredibly on a personal level.
The sight of poor little Jamie Bulger being led out of that shopping centre by those two evil bastards that killed him would haunt Queenie for ever. So would the sight of his poor parents being interviewed on TV. Both Queenie and Viv had cried floods of tears for that sweet innocent child. But what made it worse for Queenie was it brought back terrible memories of Molly’s death. Queenie continued to hope and pray the animals responsible would one day be tortured to death themselves, but knowing the do-gooders in this country they were probably leading the life of Riley on the inside. The more wrong you did in this day and age, the better the authorities treated you, and it wouldn’t even surprise Queenie if the boys responsible were let out sooner rather than later with new identities, paid for by the taxpayer of course.
Another day that would live in Queenie’s thoughts until the day she died was 31 August 1997. Viv had gone round to Mr Patel’s to get the Sunday papers and there’d been a shocking headline on the front page of the News of the World stating Dodi Fayed was dead and Princess Diana had been badly injured in a car crash in Paris.
Queenie had immediately switched the TV on and was horrified to learn Diana had also died. All usual radio and TV programmes were cancelled and Queenie and Viv’d sat glued to the TV for hours, sobbing their hearts out. They’d been thrilled that Diana had finally found some happiness, and how ever would poor Prince William and Harry cope without their beloved mother?
Diana’s funeral had been a sombre affair. Queenie and Viv had recorded the service while joining thousands of other mourners lining the streets of London to say a final goodbye to their favourite royal. They’d even bought Diana a beautiful bouquet and put a personal message on the card. Princes William and Harry had never replied to their kind offer of joining them for tea, though.
Her granddaughter’s arrival spelled the end to Queenie’s reminiscing. ‘Me and Destiny are getting ready and staying here tonight, Nan,’ Ava announced.
‘Erm, I think you mean is it OK for me and Destiny to get ready and stay ’ere tonight please, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. Is it OK?’
‘Only if you come straight home after the party. There’ll be no more rolling home the following day in this house again, because next time I will tell your father,’ Queenie threatened.
‘Of course, Nan. I’m only nineteen and wouldn’t dream of going out clubbing again,’ Ava laughed, before heading up the stairs with her outfit for the evening.
Queenie puffed her cheeks out in exasperation. Ava would be the bloody death of her. She wasn’t all bad, but Queenie felt too old for the responsibility now. Vinny still owned his club in Holborn and lived in Canary Wharf, and Ava flitted between the two abodes. She would stay with her father and act like a demure princess to ponce money, then she would stay at hers and play up while she spent it.
Queenie blamed the local school and Vinny for Ava’s unemployment. Her granddaughter had been very bright in infant and junior school, but by the time she reached the seniors, Whitechapel was that multicultural the teachers spent far more time teaching kids English than they did concentrating on the likes of Ava. She was one of only four English-speaking kids in her class, so never stood a chance.
Vinny was even worse than the school in Queenie’s eyes. She’d suggested many a time that Ava get a job, but Vinny did not want his daughter taking some minimum-wage position and she wasn’t qualified for much else. He wouldn’t let her sign on, so bunged her money regularly. Queenie found that morally wrong. She’d always taught her boys, even as youngsters, that they needed to earn a bob or two if they wanted nice things in life. She’d done many a crap job herself before her sons had been old enough to support her, and even Stinky Susan’s Destiny had a bloody job. She’d turned out a lovely girl and done well for herself, considering who her mother was. Queenie obviously put that down to the influence her own family had in Destiny’s upbringing. And she chose to forget that Destiny had attended the same senior school as Ava, yet had left there with far more exam passes.
Ava swanned into the lounge again. ‘I’m starving. What you got nice to eat?’
‘There’s some lamb stew in the fridge that I made yesterday.’
Ava turned her nose up. ‘That’s fattening and boring. Haven’t you got anything else? Can’t you make me something nice?’
Queenie stood up and glared at her granddaughter. At five feet seven, Ava was head and shoulders above her small frame. She was also incredibly cheeky, pretty and knew it, but in Queenie’s eyes no Butler kid was ever too old for a slap. She raised her hand as a gesture. ‘Make your bloody self something – and while you’re at it, you can make me a cuppa. It’s about time you started earning your keep, young lady.’
Ava grinned as she strolled into the kitchen. Little did her nan know she was actually earning her keep. Her father was training her up to be manageress at his club.
‘Cooey. Where are you, Albie?’
‘Up here, love. I’m debating what suit to wear tonight. Need to look smart if I’m gonna serenade my favourite lady, eh?’
Grinning like a teenager, Vivian chose Albie’s outfit for him. ‘Needs a proper iron, that shirt. I’ll do it while you eat your lamb stew and dumplings that Queenie made.’
Albie chuckled. It was a standing joke between them that whenever Queenie’s back was turned, Vivian would steal some of whatever stew she’d cooked and put it in a plastic container to warm up for him when she next visited. Either that or she’d cook him a nice meal herself. A true diamond was Vivian, and Albie couldn’t imagine her not being part of his life now.
Queenie would have a fit if she ever found out about their secret liaisons. Vivian would visit him at least twice a week, sometimes more if Queenie’s arthritis was playing up. Their friendship was purely platonic. As Albie often joked, it had been a long time since he�
��d been able to play a tune on his fiddle. But he knew Viv thought the world of him, and the feeling was mutual. It was hard to believe they’d once been at each other’s throats. Sad as it was, it’d been Lenny’s death that had strengthened their bond. They both loathed Vinny with a passion and were so glad he wasn’t invited to Daniel’s homecoming party. Vinny and Michael had had nothing to do with each other for years now.
‘That’s your shirt ironed. Fancy a game of dominoes?’ Vivian asked. It was a shame, but her and Albie couldn’t risk going out in public together. If they did, Queenie would be bound to hear about it, and then all hell would break loose.
‘Go on then. But today I’m gonna beat you, Vivian Harris. I’m sure you cheated last Wednesday.’
‘Sod off, Albie Butler. Won that fair and square, I did. You’ve just met your bleedin’ match in life.’
Albie grinned. ‘I sure have, sweetheart.’
‘That was absolutely blinding,’ Daniel Butler said, patting his bloated stomach.
‘I bet that Janine bird never said that about you, seeing as you were in and out of hers in eleven minutes flat,’ Michael guffawed. He and Lee had had a tenner bet on how long Daniel’s ejaculation skills would last and he’d won. Lee had guessed eighteen minutes, Michael thirteen.
‘Shut up, you pair of pricks. I don’t even like the bird, what did you expect?’ Daniel grinned. ‘Right, what we doing when we leave ’ere? Fancy a bit of table dancing meself. Not me personally, of course.’
‘You’ve already “dipped your wick”, as your nan says. Me and Lee have got the whole day planned, so chill out,’ Michael urged.
‘How’s Cami? I can’t wait to see her,’ Daniel grinned. His little sister had written to him regularly in prison and Daniel had loved receiving her bubbly letters. She’d also visited him on his birthday and at Christmas with his father.
Tainted Love: The gritty new thriller from the #1 bestseller Page 33
