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

About to remark that the cat’s eyes reminded her of Vinny’s, Vivian bit her tongue. ‘It’s called Chester. I heard her next door calling it yesterday for its grub,’ she said. ‘I bumped into Nosy Hilda round the shops this morning and she filled me in on the set-up. That ain’t her old man living there, it’s her brother. The other tart is his wife. Them boys are hers though. Little sods they are, by all accounts. Hilda said they took the right piss out of Mr Arthur the other day ’cause he was wearing his war medals. And they’ve already been caught stealing off the market. Her name’s Shell. The boys are Kurt and Brad. I can’t remember the others’ names, although Hilda did tell me.’

‘Shell! What, as in a bleedin’ sea shell? That’s all we need, two little tea-leaves living next door. What’s the betting they try to burgle us while we’re up the Roman one Saturday?’

‘I think we should knock there, Queen. Let ’em know exactly who we are. They need to show a bit of respect. Their music system must be right next to my lounge wall. I couldn’t even hear me Brookside properly last night. They were playing that black man’s music again. I’m not putting up with that.’

‘It’s Bob Marley.’

‘Oh, is that her brother’s name? I could have sworn blind Hilda said it was something different.’

‘No. It’s Bob Marley records they keep playing, you daft bat.’

About to ask who the hell Bob Marley was, Vivian gasped as the cat leapt off the fence and grabbed a little robin by its throat. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt! Do something, Queen.’

Queenie picked up her hoe. She loved birds and welcomed them into her garden with the lovely bird table that she hung food from on a daily basis. ‘Get away, you ginger-and-white bastard,’ she screamed.

As the hoe came towards him, Chester fled without his prey. Queenie bent down and saw the terrified bird take its last breath. ‘We won’t be lowering ourselves by knocking there, Viv. I need a brandy to calm my nerves, then we’ll ring Michael. He can do the honours. I must bury this bird first though. Poor little mite.’

Ahmed and Burak were on their way to the Butlers’ club. Sunday lunchtimes were when the strippers performed and Ahmed liked to pop in at least twice a month as he knew Michael did not like him.

‘Any more news on the kid?’ Burak asked.

‘I rang the private detective yesterday, but it went on to answerphone. If he does not get back to me in the next day or two, I will sack him and hire the guy that Tarkan recommended.’

‘Please say if you think I am speaking out of turn, Ahmed, but I am bemused why Tarkan suddenly wants to be your best buddy. He’s had no dealings with Vinny, so has no reason to hate him like we do. I find it slightly suspicious that he has found what is supposedly Vinny’s daughter, yet could not find that prick Carl Thompson when he turned out to be such a fucking liability to us.’

‘What are you trying to say? That Tarkan warned Thompson that I was trying to kill him? No way, Burak. I have known Tarkan for years and he wouldn’t dare cross me. Us Turks stick together.’

‘Tarkan’s half English,’ Burak reminded his cousin. ‘So, what is the point of our visit today? To wind that flash wanker Michael up again?’

‘No. Little Vinny rang me twice in the week. He seems extremely upset that his father’s cellmate will soon be working at the club, and I think he’s fallen out with his girlfriend as well. This is the perfect opportunity for us to entice him into our clutches again. Then on a drunken night out, I shall accidentally drop the bombshell that his daddy killed his mummy.’

Burak chuckled. He could never understand why his cousin hadn’t just killed Vinny off years ago instead of waiting to have his revenge. But Ahmed was a complex character at times, and loved nothing more than fucking people up mentally.

As Ahmed laughed and joked, he had no idea that his cousin had been spot on in his estimation of Tarkan Smith. He was not the loyal friend Ahmed thought he was at all.

Ye Olde White Harte in Burnham-on-Crouch overlooked the quay where the boats and yachts were moored. The late-July weather was glorious and Johnny was thankful that not only had his wife cheered up, his daughter seemed on top form as well.

‘Why you not eating your dinner, Ava?’ Johnny asked, stroking his granddaughter’s dark glossy hair.

Ava protruded her bottom lip as she often did when bored. ‘Don’t want it. Can I go and play?’ she asked, pointing at two children who were skipping nearby.

Joanna looked around. Ava was a very bright child for her age. Her elocution was good and she often asked unusually intelligent questions for a child so young. She could even tell the time, and recite the alphabet in twenty seconds flat. ‘Is it OK if my little girl plays with your children?’ Joanna asked the couple on the table behind.

When they agreed and Ava left the table, Joanna turned to her parents. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

Deborah grinned. She knew what was coming. Her daughter looked radiant. ‘You’ve met a new man, haven’t you?’

‘It’s early days, Mum, but he seems very nice. He’s totally different to Vinny.’

Johnny was not so delighted by the news. ‘Who is he? Where did ya meet him?’

‘I met him when I went out with Nancy last weekend. His name’s Darren, and he’s divorced with a four-year-old son. We’ve not been out on a proper date yet, but we’ve spoken on the phone a lot and I met him for a coffee yesterday. I aim to take things slowly, of course, but Darren does seem really genuine.’

‘You’re hardly a good judge of character when it comes to geezers, are you, Jo? Look at the last one you fell for,’ Johnny pointed out.

Annoyed that, having lectured her earlier about the need to lighten up, her husband now had a face on him like a smacked arse, Deborah ordered him to go to the bar to get some more drinks. ‘So what does Darren do for a living, love?’ she asked the moment he was gone.

‘He’s an estate agent, Mum, in Chelmsford. I never thought I would allow another man into my life, but we’ve spoken for hours every night on the phone this week and Darren’s really nice. It gives me something to look forward to when Ava goes to bed. He makes me laugh and he seems a loving dad. I’m a bit nervous about going out with him alone, so do you think it would be a good idea to take the kids with us? Darren suggested we take them to Colchester Zoo next weekend.’

Johnny chuckled as he plonked the drinks on the table. He’d overheard the back-end of the conversation. ‘You’re so gullible. How do you know that Vinny hasn’t tracked you down because he found out about Ava, eh? Darren could be working for him for all you know.’

Seeing her daughter’s happy mood suddenly deflated, Deborah was livid. ‘What the hell is wrong with you, Johnny? If anybody deserves to find happiness, it’s our Jo. Do us a favour and go for a walk, will you? Ava wants an ice cream, so you can take her with you.’

Johnny grabbed Ava’s hand. Perhaps he was a bit over-protective now. But he had every right to be after the Vinny debacle. Like any decent father, all Johnny wanted was the best in life for his daughter.

‘Granddad, pick me up. I don’t want to walk.’

Grinning at his cheeky granddaughter, Johnny did as she asked. What Johnny did not realize, as he held Ava above his head until she squealed, was that the private detective Ahmed had hired was snapping away behind him with his camera.

‘It’s hot and noisy in here. Let’s go outside and have a chat,’ Ahmed said, putting an arm around Little Vinny’s shoulders. Burak was enjoying himself watching the strippers and Ahmed knew there was far more chance of the boy opening up to him if they spoke alone.

Eyes like a hawk, Michael followed his nephew. Approximately eighteen months ago, Little Vinny had gone off the rails for a while. He’d taken days off sick, looked like shit when he had turned up, and Michael was sure by his eyes he’d taken some kind of drug. Ahmed had been hanging around a lot at the time and even though Little Vinny had sworn blind that he’d not been spending time with Ahmed outside the club, Michael wasn’t so sure. ‘Where yous two going?’ he asked, grabbing his nephew by the arm.

‘Outside to cool down a bit. You really need to invest in some more of them fans that hang from the ceiling, Michael. It’s like a sweatbox in here,’ said Ahmed.

When Michael walked away looking none too happy, Ahmed smirked. Once outside in the fresh air, he began to sow his seed. ‘What’s all this about your father’s cellmate starting work here then, Vin? You sounded well pissed off on the phone.’

Little Vinny explained the situation.

‘Well, I can’t say I blame you for having the hump. I bloody would too. There is a very close bond between your dad and Jay. Whenever I visit your old man or he writes to me, he is always praising the lad. I think your dad sees him as a second son. He must have big plans for him if he wants him to work at the club though.’

Feeling extremely agitated, Little Vinny glared at Ahmed. ‘Whaddya mean, big plans? Has my old man said something to you? Only I’m the one that’s made a success of this club with Michael. He said it was taking peanuts when my fucking father was in charge.’

Ahmed put a comforting arm around Little Vinny’s shoulders. ‘No. Your dad has said nothing about his plans for Jay to me. I shall be going to visit Vinny soon, so will have a quiet word to see what I can find out. That’s just between us though.’

‘Of course. Cheers, Ahmed. I’ve worked my bollocks off for the sake of this business and if my old man gets out and puts that cunt Jay above me in the pecking order, I will tell him to shove his job where the sun doesn’t shine.’

‘When is Jay due to arrive?’

‘Soon. He got released from nick a few days after his brother died and travelled up to Liverpool. I think the funeral was on Friday, so I dare say he’ll turn up this coming week.’

‘I’m always on the end of the phone if you need me. What I reckon you would benefit from is a bloody good night out. How about we go up West in the week? Burak and I have found this great club. Everybody shags one another. You get some proper wild women in there, let me tell you,’ Ahmed chuckled.

Little Vinny shook his head. ‘I can’t be going places like that now I’m with Sammi-Lou. She’d kill me if she ever found out.’

‘How’s it going with Sammi? From what you said the other day, I got the impression the two of you had had a falling out.’

Ever since the blow-job moment, things had been strained between himself and his girlfriend, and Little Vinny knew she had the hump with him as she’d spent the weekend in Clacton at her friend’s parents’ caravan. ‘It’s going OK. She’s a bit full on at times, but I do love her, I think.’

Ahmed laughed. ‘You’re only eighteen. Far too young to know what true love is. You should be playing the field. You need to have many girlfriends to find the one. Then when you do, you marry her.’

Little Vinny respected Ahmed, but no way was he taking relationship advice from him. Ahmed had married an English lady called Anna who he had two children with. He was rarely at home though and fucked anything that breathed. ‘You know you just mentioned a night out. Well, it’s Sammi-Lou’s mum’s fortieth next Saturday. Her dad’s got a massive gaff in Essex and they’re having a big party. Sammi told me to invite all my family, but Michael said he can’t leave the club and my nan and Auntie Viv won’t go. Will you come with me? I’ve only met Sammi’s parents briefly a couple of times, and her old man makes me feel a right div, to be honest – and I won’t know any bastard there.’

Ahmed grinned. This party would be the perfect opportunity to get Little Vinny back on the booze and into his clutches. ‘I would be honoured to accompany you, my friend.’

Queenie Butler was that fuming, she slammed the phone down on her youngest son. That was the difference between her Vinny and Michael. Instead of laughing at her like Michael just had, Vinny would’ve been round like a shot.

‘Well?’ Vivian asked.

‘He told us to knock there ourselves. He said, “That’ll be the day I get into an argument ’cause a cat killed a bird.” He reckons it’s nature.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him about the bloody music, Queen? I can hear it through the wall now. They’re playing it again.’

‘Let’s have another brandy, then we’ll knock there. Talk about if you want anything done, do it your bleedin’ self. Eight bastard hours I was in labour with my Michael, and what thanks do I get, eh? None.’

Singing along to ‘Three Little Birds’, Shell Baker put the paintbrush down and cracked open a can of lager. She’d been arsehole lucky to get this house after her sons Kurt and Bradley had got her evicted from their previous property in East Ham. Thankfully for Shell, her mate Dawn worked for Tower Hamlets council and had managed to pull a few strings.

Family and friends meant everything to Shell, which was why she’d invited her brother Karl and his wife Melissa to move in with her. They’d been living in a poxy old bedsit that was full of mould and damp, and stood far more chance of getting their own place via Tower Hamlets council than Newham.

When somebody started ferociously hammering on her door, Shell’s first thought was that it was the Old Bill again. Then she reminded herself that Kurt and Brad were currently upstairs painting their bedroom, so couldn’t have got in any more trouble since yesterday.

She opened the door to find her new neighbour on her doorstep, lips pursed and hands on hips, glaring daggers at her.

‘That ginger and white thing belong to you?’

‘If you’re talking about a cat, yeah, that’s my Chester.’

‘Best you stop your Chester coming into my garden and killing my birds then. Murdered one right in front of us this morning, didn’t he, Viv?’

‘Yeah. Poor little robin was terrified,’ Vivian added.

Shell looked at the two women like they’d just arrived from another planet. ‘You are joking, right?’

‘Do I look like I’m bastard-well joking? I spend a fortune every week on seeds and nuts for them birds. Breaks my heart to see them getting ripped to pieces.’

Shell burst out laughing. ‘Karl, Mel, you gotta come and listen to this,’ she shouted. Her brother and sister-in-law were in the lounge.

‘Not going to hear you over that racket, are they? And that’s another thing we wanted to talk to you about. If you think we’re putting up with that shit blaring through our walls, you’ve got another think coming. Do you know who we are?’ Vivian asked indignantly.

Holding her crotch because she was chuckling so much she was afraid she might wet herself, Shell burst into the lounge and gestured for Karl and Mel to follow her into the hallway.

Queenie and Vivian were appalled. They weren’t accustomed to being laughed at. People were usually too scared to say a bad word to them, let alone take the piss.

‘Meet our neighbours,’ Shell guffawed. ‘They’ve asked me to tell Chester not to go in their garden and kill the birds. Now do you want to tell him, or shall I, Karl? I think there’s more chance of Chester listening to you. He understands you better than me.’

When the brother and sister-in-law also burst out laughing, a red-faced Queenie started to wag her forefinger. ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your faces once my family gets to hear about this, let me tell you.’

Hearing the commotion, Kurt and Bradley appeared. ‘Shut up, you mad old bat,’ Kurt told Queenie.

‘My grandson will deal with you, you little shit. As for the rest of yous, watch your backs. I am Queenie Butler. Mother of the Vinny and Michael Butler who run this fucking area.’

Still laughing, Shell replied, ‘And we’re the Bakers. Nice to meet you. Now piss off!’

When the door was slammed in her face, Queenie felt faint. ‘Hold me arm, Viv. Get me back indoors. I need another brandy.’

Feeling satisfied with his day’s work, the man dialled the all-important number.

‘Well?’

‘Found him boss. I took plenty of photos that are already on their way to you. I have an address of a house where I believe his wife and sons live. Do you want photos of them too?’

The boss slammed the paperweight against his mahogany desk. ‘Did you not understand my orders? I want photos of every fucking thing Michael Butler has contact with. Even his cunting pet dog.’

The man apologized and ended the call. If he were a betting man, he’d put his house on Michael Butler being dead this time next week.

CHAPTER NINE

Nancy Butler prodded her husband. ‘Michael, wake up. That was my mum on the phone. Freda Smart is seriously ill, so I’m going to the hospital. Will you look after the boys today?’

Squinting at the radio/alarm clock, Michael was annoyed he’d been woken up so early. ‘Freda Smart’s a mad old bat and her fucking grandson dumped my sister while she was pregnant, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘I know that, but Freda was really kind to me when I was ill in hospital, Michael. She hasn’t got anybody else to visit her,’ Nancy retorted.

‘I’ve got to go to work today, so the boys will have to come with me.’

‘I don’t want them going to the club. Can’t you have the day off and take them somewhere else?’

‘No. I can’t. Now stop rambling on and let me get some poxy kip.’

Mary Walker was unusually quiet throughout the journey to the hospital.

‘You OK, Mum?’ Nancy asked.

‘I just hate going back to Whitechapel, love. Reminds me of our old café. Do you remember the interior, Nance? You probably don’t, as you were still quite young. Beautiful, that café was. I was heartbroken when we had to walk away from it.’

‘I remember the red tables and chairs and the jukebox,’ said Nancy, patting her mum’s arm. ‘I don’t like coming back here either. It reminds me of Molly.’

‘I wonder who’s living in Molly’s old house now?’

Nancy shrugged. ‘I think Michael sold it to an Indian family. Let’s hope they have more luck there than poor Jo did.’ Vinny had instructed Michael to sell the house via a phone call from prison.

‘I hope poor Freda knows who we are. She must be in a pretty bad way for the hospital to ring me so early. Shame, isn’t it, love. Must be awful, not having any family to call upon at a time like this.’

Watching her mother struggle to get out of the car, Nancy issued a warning. ‘It’ll be you in hospital next if you put on any more weight, Mum.’

Mary sighed. She only weighted eleven stone something, but looked bigger because of her five-foot frame. Donald was a whole foot taller than her and when they’d met she’d been ever so petite with a tiny little waist. ‘Thanks for that, Nance. It’s not easy to lose weight at my age. You’re lucky ’cause you’re taller than me and still young.’

‘Mum, you’re fifty-two not seventy. Your sweet tooth is the bloody problem, not your height or age.’

‘Has Michael upset you this morning, dear?’ Mary asked knowingly.

Nancy nodded. ‘I asked him to take the boys out somewhere for the day, but he’s taking them to work with him instead. It gives me the heebies, them going anywhere near that club after what happened to Molly. The place is jinxed.’

Mary linked arms with her daughter. ‘Try not to worry too much. The boys are far more capable of looking after themselves than poor little Molly was. They’ll most likely all be working there when they leave school anyway, Nance. So you might as well get used to it.’

Having prepared themselves for the worst, Mary and Nancy were surprised to see Freda propped up against a pillow reading the newspaper. She didn’t look well though. Her skin and the whites of her eyes were the colour of egg yolks.

‘Thanks for coming at such short notice. I really do appreciate it,’ Freda said, before explaining her cancer was back and was now terminal.

Nancy squeezed the old lady’s hand. ‘Surely there must be something the doctors can do? Isn’t there any treatment they can try?’

Freda shook her head. ‘Riddled with the bastard disease, I am. Even spread to my liver now. Once it hits your vital organs, that’s it – curtains.’

Mary had tears streaming down her face. She’d first met Freda back in 1965. Freda had barged into the café in Whitechapel one day to warn her and Donald how dangerous the Butler family were. At the time, Mary and Donald had dismissed her as some nutty local scaremonger. But Freda had been spot on. Over the years she’d become a valued friend and she would be sorely missed.

‘Now stop all them tears. I’m no spring chicken, so I can’t complain. I’ve had a decent innings. Open that drawer, Nancy. I wrote a list out last night. The doctor reckons I ain’t got long left, so I need to get my affairs in order. You don’t mind helping me, do you? I’ve no one else I can trust.’

Nancy forced a smile. ‘Of course we’ll help you.’

Michael Butler had just ordered himself and the boys some breakfast when his mother and Auntie Vivian marched into the café like two bulls in a china shop.

‘There you are! I was ringing the club continuously last night and couldn’t bloody get hold of you. I rung Nancy twice and she didn’t know where you were. I wish some bastard would invent a phone you could carry around with you, else what’s the point of having sons,’ Queenie spat, completely ignoring her grandchildren.

Seeing a table full of workmen staring his way, Michael ordered his sons to stay put, then led his mum and aunt outside. ‘I went out with me old mate Kev. I haven’t seen him for yonks. What’s the problem?’

When Queenie and Viv explained word for word about their altercation with the neighbours, Michael lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply to calm his temper. Nobody around here dared disrespect his family. The locals were all too aware of what happened to those who did. Terry Smart, Trevor Thomas, Kenny and Bobby Jackson had all either disappeared or met a grizzly end after falling foul of the Butlers. No one else wanted to meet the same fate.

‘Well? Don’t just stand there like a stuffed dummy. What ya gonna do about it? Vinny would’ve been round there first time I asked. So would my Roy, God rest his soul.’

Michael dropped his cigarette, then stamped on it and twisted his foot as if he were snuffing out the life of a tarantula. ‘Do you honestly still see me as your baby boy, Mum? Or that fresh-faced David Essex lookalike that birds used to chase down the road in the seventies? Or do you just see me as the weakest link of this family? Not up to Vinny’s standards perhaps?’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. It was you who sorted Pervy Pat, so I know you’re more than capable. I just meant that Vinny would’ve straightened them bastards out like a shot.’

Michael smirked. ‘Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but seeing as Vinny is currently being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure for his swift way of dealing with things, I shall sort out this problem in my own sweet time, Mum. It will be dealt with though, I can promise you that. Now, if you don’t mind, I must excuse myself as my breakfast is getting cold.’

Queenie looked at Vivian in sheer amazement as Michael sauntered back into the café. ‘Saucy bastard. Who the hell does he think he is, eh? I won’t be insulted like that, Viv, not by one of me own.’

When her sister went to march back inside the café, Vivian grabbed her arm. ‘Leave it, Queen. Michael does have a point and I trust him to deal with those bastards next door.’

‘But he totally disrespected me.’

‘You were very disrespectful to him. He proved himself good and proper when he chopped that pervert’s dingle-dangle off. Believe me, that boy has more brains and integrity than you give him credit for. He’s a better man than Vinny will ever be, and that’s a fact.’

Johnny Preston felt as sick as a dog as he queued up inside Feltham Borstal. His mother had wanted to accompany him, but Johnny had refused. He needed to do this alone.

Once searched, Johnny was led away from the other visitors and taken down the corridor. Because of who he was he’d been allowed to speak to his nephew away from the prying eyes and listening ears of other inmates and their families.