The Wronged: No parent should ever have to bury their child...

Putting his arms around his girlfriend’s waist, Little Vinny treated her to a short but passionate kiss. Sammi-Lou was the seventeen-year-old daughter of multi-millionaire Gary Allen, who owned Allen’s Construction. Five foot five, with beautiful blonde hair, a voluptuous figure and big chocolate-coloured eyes, it had been a case of love at first sight for Little Vinny too. Before Sammi he had played the field. The club turning into a disco and him being classed as management had enabled him to take full advantage of the young birds who flocked there in their scantily dressed droves – and take advantage he most certainly had.

‘What do you want to do first? Shop or eat?’ Sammi asked excitedly. Unlike her ex-boyfriend, Little Vinny was as passionate about shopping and fashion as she was.

‘Let’s grab a bite to eat. Not sure I’ll have time to shop today. My nan rung me as I left home. My aunt took a tumble earlier and she’s twisted her ankle. They’re in a boozer along the road here and I said I’d pick ’em up at four.’

‘Aww. I hope your aunt is OK. Her and your nan make me laugh so much. My dad’s organizing a big party at our house for my mum’s fortieth. All your family are invited. My mum can’t wait to meet Viv and Queenie. I’ve told her so much about them.’

Little Vinny felt a shiver run down his spine. He had been with Sammi just over six months now and had met her parents twice. Both times Sammi’s little sister had been present, and it had really freaked him out. The child was seven, had blonde curly hair and reminded him of how Molly might look now. Worse still, her name was Millie. ‘I won’t be able to get time off work, babe, if the party is at a weekend. I have a club to run, you know that.’

‘But it’s only one night, Vin, and I want you there with me. Surely you can take one Saturday off?’

Desperate to change the subject, Little Vinny clasped his girlfriend’s hand and smiled. ‘I’ll do my best. Speaking of parties, you looking forward to Charlene’s tonight?’

Sammi grinned. ‘Yep, but I’m only staying a couple of hours. I’ll be at the club with you by eleven.’

Little Vinny grimaced. As much as he thought the world of Sammi-Lou, ever since she had passed her driving test and her dad had bought her a brand-new Mini, she had taken to showing up at the club every single Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. ‘Sam, it’s your best mate’s eighteenth. You can’t sod off after a couple of hours. It’s not right.’

‘But I like spending Saturday evenings with you, and waking up with you on a Sunday morning.’

‘Yeah, I know you do, and I like it too. But because I thought you weren’t coming to the club tonight, I invited some old school pals of mine down. We’re gonna have a game of cards with Uncle Michael and a couple of his mates once we lock up. I can’t cancel now, it’s too late,’ Little Vinny lied. He didn’t even have any old school friends. The only pal he’d ever had in those days was Ben.

‘OK. If you don’t want me there, I won’t come,’ Sammi said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Suddenly feeling as suffocated as a Doberman locked in a two-foot cage, Little Vinny took his girlfriend’s hand and steered her into Beau Baggage. He knew it was one of her favourite shops. ‘Let’s not argue. Pick out whatever you want and I’ll buy it for ya.’

Vinny Butler finished his hundred press-ups and decided to have a rest before starting his sit-ups. At least six times a day he exercised vigorously. In prison you needed something to focus the mind on.

Thanks to his smart-arse brief and brilliant Queen’s Counsel, Vinny had literally gotten away with murder. The prosecution had tried to portray him as some kind of monster, but the jury had clearly been touched by Molly’s untimely death, and all he’d ended up with was an eight-year stretch for manslaughter. Bobby Jackson’s family and friends had gone apeshit when the murder verdict was read out as ‘not guilty’. Jackson’s lunatic of a mother had even lunged at Queenie and then been dragged from the court kicking and screaming.

Having already spent over a year on remand before his trial, Vinny should have been up for parole soon. It was usual to serve only half your sentence if your behaviour was good. Unfortunately for Vinny, he’d had a few altercations with other lags over the years, and as a result the authorities had argued he should not be released yet. His brief, however, was on the ball and had told Vinny that, providing he stayed out of trouble, he was sure he could get him parole in the next year.

Lying on his bunk, Vinny stared at the ceiling. He was by far the most respected inmate in the Ville now, and so he bloody-well should be – after all, he was the Vinny Butler. It hadn’t been easy, getting his head back together after Molly’s death, but once he’d made his vow not to think or speak about his daughter, he’d started to get back to his old self. It had been tough, and even now he couldn’t stop Molly appearing in his dreams, but he refused to shed a tear. Only weak men cried, and if prison had taught Vinny anything, it was how to be mentally strong.

He checked the time; his brother would be here soon. It was a prospect that gave him no pleasure. Relations between himself and Michael had become somewhat strained ever since he’d been banged up. Right at the start they’d had a bust-up over Little Vinny’s living arrangements that kept them from speaking to each other for nine months. Vinny had expected his son to move in with Michael, and had gone ballistic when his brother had instead rented a house opposite his own and allowed Little Vinny to live in it with their arsehole of a father. In Vinny’s eyes, Molly would still be alive if his old man hadn’t fathered an illegitimate child with that slag Judy Preston.

When Michael disobeyed his wishes and turned the club into a disco, it had led to even more friction. It grated on Vinny that his brother had been right and he’d been wrong. Even though it was earning him big bucks, he’d rather the disco had failed. Anything would have been better than having to eat humble pie.

In Vinny’s opinion, the success of the venture had gone to Michael’s head. According to Ahmed, he was now swanning around Whitechapel in a brand-new red Porsche convertible like he owned the fucking area. He’d gotten far too big for his boots, and Vinny would have liked nothing better than to bring him down a peg or two.

Resisting the urge to punch the wall, Vinny took a deep breath and did his sit-ups instead. He had no idea why Michael had insisted on visiting him today, but he’d be glad when the visit was over.

Standing in the queue to be searched, Michael Butler smiled politely at a blonde who seemed unable to take her eyes off him. He was used to lots of female attention. His boyish good looks and charm attracted all types.

The blonde walked over to him. ‘Hi, I’m Wendy – I’ve seen you in the Blind Beggar. I’d just like to thank you for getting rid of you-know-who. He attacked me many moons ago and I’m so glad I never have to bump into him any more.’

Rumour had spread around the East End that Michael was responsible for Pervy Pat’s little accident and subsequent disappearance. Billy Higgins had recovered from his heart attack, then died of another six months later, and Janey had since moved away from the area. Far too wise to ever admit his involvement, Michael nevertheless enjoyed the notoriety. Even law-abiding members of the community looked upon nonces as vermin, and he was now seen as some kind of local hero.

After politely telling the blonde she must have mistaken him for somebody else, Michael allowed the screw to search him, then sauntered into the visiting area.

Vinny faked a smile as his brother approached. ‘What the fuck’s that?’ he asked, pointing at Michael’s new ring.

‘What’s it look like, Vin?’

‘Something you nicked out of a bender’s jewellery box.’

Knowing Vinny was being his usual facetious self, Michael decided two could play at that game. ‘Treated meself up at Hatton Garden, bruv. Look at the quality of that diamond. It’s flawless. Bought this Gucci watch an’ all. Thank God I had the foresight to turn our business around, eh? Would never have been able to afford such luxuries otherwise. If we’d stuck with those live singers like you wanted us to, I’d have been wearing a Swatch by now,’ Michael chuckled.

‘You have what is referred to in medical terms as short-term memory loss, Michael. Have you forgotten how you cried and threw all your toys out the pram when I marched in that shitty garage and told your old boss you couldn’t be his tea boy no more? You’d still be working there if it wasn’t for me taking the initiative.’

Smirking, Michael laughed out loud. ‘I doubt that very much. Got more of a business brain than you’ll ever have, that’s for sure. What I’ve done to the club speaks for itself. The proof is in the pudding, brother dearest.’

Vinny was not amused. ‘If you’ve come ’ere just to give it the big ’un, bruv, you might as well fuck off now. I really ain’t in the mood after the morning I’ve had.’

Sarcastic tone immediately changing to one of concern, Michael asked what had happened.

‘Jay Boy’s brother’s been killed, and I heard some Jock cunt laughing about it earlier. He’s so gonna get it. It’s the same mouthy prick who gave me stick when I first arrived. He’s only been back in ’ere a week. I’m gonna shut him up for good this time,’ Vinny hissed, before glancing around to check nobody was earwigging.

‘Sorry to hear that. I know how close you are to Jay Boy. Be careful though. You don’t wanna get more time added on your sentence.’

‘I’m gonna have a word with Jay later. He’ll be out before me and he needs something to look forward to. I’m gonna offer him a job at the club.’

‘Erm, aren’t you forgetting something? We’re partners, remember?’

‘Don’t start larging it again, Michael. The mood I’m in, I’ll smash you right across this room in a minute.’

Michael stood up. Vinny would never change. He was a regular Jekyll and Hyde. ‘I’m gonna tell Mum we had a pleasant visit and you’re sending me another VO real soon. Best you say the same if you don’t wanna upset her. Oh, and I’m happy to trust your faith in Jay Boy and employ him. Perhaps in future though you should ask me rather than tell me. It’s much more polite and professional.’

‘See you, you flash cunt. I’ve got people keeping an eye on you. So watch your back, big man,’ Vinny bellowed.

Michael held his hands out and pretended they were shaking. ‘I’m terrified, bruv. Honest I am.’

Losing it completely, Vinny leapt up to punch Michael’s lights out and was quickly restrained by the screws.

Having spent the afternoon drinking brandies in the Rose of Denmark, Vivian could now see the funny side of her little tumble. ‘Trust me, Queen, never gonna live down the shame, am I?’

Queenie chuckled. The sight of Vivian cursing, while hobbling down the Roman with one shoe on and the other in her hand had been comical and attracted some weird looks from passers-by. ‘I felt sorry for that nice lady who works in Ashby’s. She only asked if you were OK and you told her to mind her own fucking business. How we meant to queue up in there for our meat and salt-beef sandwiches in future, eh?’

Vivian roared with laughter. ‘I’ll go in and apologize to her next week. Silly question to ask though. If I was OK, I would hardly be limping along the road like a lame dog with one shoe in me sodding hand, would I?’

‘Oh, Viv, you are a case. How’s your ankle now? It’s definitely swollen. We’ll get a bag of frozen peas on that when we get home.’

‘Can’t feel no pain – the alcohol must have numbed it. It’s more painful looking at these poxy slip-ons you bought me. That’s the last time I’m sending you shoe-shopping. I look like silly-girl-got-none. Hope we don’t see anyone we know as we walk to the car.’ She checked her watch. ‘What time did you say Little Vinny was picking us up? Ring him and ask if he can bring a balaclava with him so I can’t be recognized in me new shoes.’

Her sides aching from laughter, Queenie urged her sister to behave herself.

Little Vinny was horrified when he arrived at the pub to find both his nan and aunt inebriated and giggling like two silly schoolgirls. He was clean as a whistle these days. Did not drink, smoke or take drugs.

‘What the bleedin’ hell do you look like? And why you got your jeans rolled up and those silly dark glasses on? Not sunny in here, is it? It’s a pub,’ Queenie tutted.

‘And he’s topless. I think me and you should walk in a boozer one day baring our top halves, don’t you, Queen? I mean, if you’ve got it, why not flaunt it? And if that skinny bag of bones has it, then so have we.’

Even though he knew full well he looked a cool dude in his rolled-up faded Levis, white Lacoste trainers and Porsche sunglasses, Little Vinny felt his face go red as he caught a couple of birds and a geezer looking his way and laughing. His nan and aunt had loud enough voices when sober, let alone when drunk. ‘Yous two wouldn’t understand fashion. Come on, we’re going.’

‘Don’t be so rude. You’ve not even bought me and Viv a drink yet. Put your top on and get up the bar. We’ll both have a brandy and lemonade,’ Queenie ordered.

‘Aw my gawd, Queen! He’s wearing pink. Take the T-shirt back off again, Vin. You look like a poof!’ Vivian guffawed.

Noticing the two birds and bloke on the next table laugh at him again, Little Vinny saw red. He ran towards the male, grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head against the wall. ‘You wanna be careful who you take the piss out of, you soppy-looking prick. I am Little Vinny Butler, son of the Vinny Butler, and I can easily arrange your funeral.’

Aware that his cellmate was trying to stifle his sobs, Vinny Butler walked over to his pal’s bunk and rubbed his back. He’d calmed down now, although Michael had pissed him off immensely. ‘Let it all out, Jay. Far better out than in – trust me, I know.’

‘I feel such a fucking dick crying, Vin, but I loved my bro so much,’ Jay wept in his broad Scouse accent.

Jay Boy Gerrard was an up-and-coming boxer who had only just turned pro when he’d ventured down to London for a pal’s stag night. Undefeated as an amateur, the future looked bright for Jay Boy until he’d got involved in a drunken brawl. One punch was all it had taken Jay to kill his victim. It hadn’t been his intention, but unfortunately the lad had fallen backwards, smashed his head against the edge of a kerb and died instantly.

Jay had been given a five-year sentence, and was looking forward to his imminent release. He and his brother had planned to set up their own boxing gym, but that dream was over now. His brother had been stabbed outside a boozer in Kirby last night and was dead. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, Vin. My bro’s a legend in Liverpool. I don’t want to go back there now. If I do, I’ll be reminded of his death everywhere I turn. I can’t believe he’s gone and I’m never going to see him again. It doesn’t seem real.’

Knowing exactly what his mate was going through, Vinny gave the lad a hug. Jay was fourteen years his junior. They had been sharing a cell for the past two years and Vinny cared for the bloke like a brother or a son. Jay had most certainly brightened up his time inside, which was why Vinny wanted to repay the favour. ‘Listen, mate, why don’t you stay in London and work with me? You can work at the club. I’ll see to it you get treated with respect and paid good dosh. Then, when I get released, you can be my main man.’

‘Really! But what about your bro?’ Jay asked. He was well aware of the friction between Vinny and Michael as his cellmate often spoke about it.

‘Don’t be worrying about Michael. He will do exactly as I tell him. Whether he likes it or not, I’m the boss. Always have been and always fucking will be.’

The man apprehensively entered the plush office. His boss could be a real tyrant at times and he hoped he wasn’t in any trouble. His last task had proved anything but fruitful.

‘Sit down.’

‘Sorry I had a wasted trip, boss. I tried my hardest to track him down, honest I did.’

‘I know. Which is why I’m putting my faith in you again. I have an address of a nightclub in the East End of London. There you will find a man called Michael Butler. I want photos, movements; dig up as much as you can on him. I even want to know when he takes a shit. Understand me?’

‘Clearly, boss.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Joanna Preston clapped as the rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ ended. She bent down next to her daughter. ‘Make a wish, darling, then blow out the candles.’

‘What’s a wish, Mummy?’

‘It means think about something you want. Why don’t you wish for that little fluffy white kitten you saw last week, eh?’

Ava did as she was told, then squealed with delight seconds later when her granddad handed her a small cardboard box with the kitten inside. ‘Can I call it Bagpuss?’ Ava asked. She loved to watch TV and the videos her nan and granddad brought her, and Bagpuss was her current favourite.

Deborah Preston picked up the kitten and chuckled. ‘Seeing as she’s a pretty little girl, just like you, I think we can come up with a nicer name than Bagpuss. Why don’t we make a list of names, then you can choose which one you like the best?’

Standing with her hands on her little hips, Ava Preston shook her head in defiance. ‘No, Nanny. I want to call her Bagpuss.’

‘She’s a case, isn’t she? Talk about three going on thirteen,’ Nancy Butler joked. Ava was nothing like Molly in any way, shape or form, and Nancy still couldn’t decide whether that was a good omen or bad. With her mop of curly blonde hair and sweet nature, Molly had been a replica of her lovely mum. Ava was far more of a little diva, and with her jet-black hair there was a definite resemblance to her father.

‘Stroke her, Nancy,’ Ava demanded.

Nancy smiled as Ava climbed on to her lap. She wondered if the reason she’d not bonded with her as much as Molly was because she saw Ava far less frequently. Since Joanna had moved deeper into Essex to a small village called Tillingham, they only met up once a month at most. It was difficult to speak on the phone regularly too. To prevent Ava’s existence from becoming known to the Butler clan, Joanna insisted that Nancy only ever call her from a phone box.

‘Why don’t you ring your mum, Nance, and ask if the boys can stay with her tonight? It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper catch-up, and my mum and dad are staying over anyway, so they’ll look after Ava. There’s a nightclub not too far from here that the locals call the “Four Views” which has a good disco on a Saturday night. Please say yes – we’ll have such a giggle.’

Nancy sighed. She hated asking her parents to have the boys overnight these days. Her father was always so bloody critical of their behaviour, especially Daniel’s, and she was sick of having to defend her sons, especially when she knew the criticism was justified. ‘Oh, I dunno, Jo. I promised my mum I’d pick the boys up by nine.’

Joanna squeezed her pal’s hand. Even from their infrequent conversations, she knew that Nancy had been down lately and could do with having some fun. ‘Don’t be so boring. It will be a laugh. When was the last time you let your hair down, eh?’

Nancy could not remember the last time she’d even had the chance to let her hair down. Michael might refer to the club as work, but at least he was still out socializing. She wasn’t. She was stuck indoors being a mother to three boys, one of whom didn’t even belong to her.

‘Sod it!’ she said, the decision made. ‘Pass me your phone, Jo.’

Ahmed Zane was living his dream. Having used a massive chunk of the money he’d earned through drug importation to build a fine hotel in Turkey, he had just enjoyed a luxurious stay in his homeland and flown back first-class. On arrival, he headed straight for the restaurant he co-owned with his cousin in Tottenham.

Burak was both surprised and pleased to see Ahmed. ‘What are you doing back so early? I thought your flight was not until Wednesday.’

Ahmed led his cousin into the office. ‘I heard some very interesting news, Burak. Hence my early return.’

‘What? About who?’

‘I think I have learned something that will fuck Vinny’s head up big time. In fact, it will probably explode when he hears!’

‘Tell me,’ Burak demanded, his tone overloaded with impatience.

Ahmed smirked. He and Vinny Butler had once been the closest of friends, but the car crash that killed poor Lenny had put an end to that. Ahmed could have forgiven Vinny for crashing the car. What he could not forgive was that his so-called best pal had dragged his unconscious body from the passenger seat and belted him into the driver’s seat, leaving him for fucking dead and framing him in the process.

Vinny’s excuse was that he’d thought Ahmed was already dead and panicked, but Ahmed was too cute to fall for that old chestnut. Vinny’s actions had been callous and calculating. A panicking man would have just legged it without stopping to move bodies and see to it that someone else took the rap.

Burak slammed a glass of Scotch on the table. ‘Why do you always do this, Ahmed? You half tell a story and then you fucking stop.’

Ahmed chuckled. ‘Chill, Burak, chill. Tarkan Smith rang me at the hotel. He had some exciting information regarding Johnny Preston. Apparently, Preston is working at a car lot in Wickford for somebody that Tarkan knows well. It also turns out that Preston has a young granddaughter who he is very cagey about. He never even mentioned the child’s existence until he was seen out with her. Now why would Johnny be trying to keep her a secret, eh?’

‘You think the kid could be Vinny’s?’

Ahmed grinned. ‘It looks that way. When Preston saw his boss in the restaurant, he said the child was not related to him, but then she called him “Granddad”. Apparently the mystery child has jet-black hair and green eyes. Sound like anybody you know?’

‘Sure does. Vinny will go mental if he finds out Joanna had another kid by him and kept it a secret. He’ll be climbing the walls in his prison cell.’

Ahmed had been surprised and annoyed by how well Vinny had coped with being incarcerated. He’d had a few altercations with fellow prisoners and had seemed very depressed when he first got banged up, but since then he’d taken it all in his stride. Obviously Vinny had no idea how much Ahmed loathed him. He still thought they were pals – the mug.

‘Exactly, Burak. Which is why, first thing tomorrow, I shall be hiring the best private detective money can buy.’

Over at the Walker household, Donald was becoming more embarrassed and angry by the second. Out of all of the days to play up, his grandsons had chosen to do so in front of Christopher and Olivia.

‘Stop acting stupid. Eat your dinner before it gets cold,’ Mary ordered.

Aware of her discomfort, Daniel giggled and flicked a pea at Lee, who in turn flicked one back that missed Daniel and hit Mary instead.

‘Right, that’s it! If they can’t eat like normal human beings, put their dinners in the bin,’ Donald bellowed.

‘Not hungry anyway,’ Daniel replied, defiantly pushing his plate away.

‘I’m not hungry either,’ Lee said, copying his brother as he always did.

When his nan took their plates away, Daniel leaned towards Adam. ‘I dare you to knock Olivia’s drink all over her.’

‘Nah, Dan. We’ll get in trouble.’

‘I’ll give you a pound if you do it,’ Daniel urged.

Seconds later, Adam stood up, pretended to stumble and did as he’d been asked.

‘You stupid clumsy child! Go and ask your nan for a cloth. I am so sorry, Olivia,’ Donald said in a mortified tone.

Christopher leapt up. ‘It’s OK, Dad. Most of the drink went on the carpet anyway. I’ll clean it up.’

Nudging Lee with a silly grin on his face, Daniel decided to go one better. ‘Why is your nose so big, Uncle Christopher?’ he asked innocently.

‘Mary! Get these children out of my sight before I do something I truly regret,’ Donald screamed.