Читать книгу: «Backstabber»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Part Three

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Kimberley Chambers

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

It was a cold February evening. So bloody cold, the car windscreens had started to freeze.

Beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the man wanted to take off his crash helmet, but daren’t. How had it come to this? he mused, even though he already knew the answer. His brother had a screw loose, wasn’t right in the head. He’d never been sane, truth be known. That was obvious, and it should have been dealt with.

There had been some good times, brilliant in fact, but the bad outweighed those massively now. His brother was a ticking time bomb that exploded every now and then, leaving a trail of carnage and sadness. Well, this time he had gone a step too far. Which was why a decision had been made to stop him in his tracks, for ever. There was no other option.

The man’s heart rate went into overdrive as he heard the distinctive sound of an approaching vehicle. He knew without a doubt it was him, could hear the sleek diesel engine, and the song ‘Jealous Guy’ blaring out the speakers. His brother had always been a big fan of Roxy Music, reckoned Bryan Ferry’s voice was second to none.

Sporting the number plate VB1, the black Range Rover screeched to a halt and a tall suited man leapt out. He looked the part, as always. Thick black hair greased back, expensive watch and shiny shoes.

‘Bruv! You shit the life outta me then. Where’s your motor? I’m pleased you called.’

Hands trembling, Michael Butler lifted the gun. ‘I’m sorry, Vinny, I really am. But …’

PART ONE

‘I’m not upset that you lied to me,

I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you’

Friedrich Nietzsche

CHAPTER ONE
2001

The envelope was one of those extra-large brown padded ones, and as Eddie Mitchell opened it the putrid smell engulfed his nostrils with enough force to make him gag. ‘What the hell! Vinny, Vinny!’ he bellowed.

Having recently acquired premises along the A13 that would soon be opened as a casino, Vinny Butler strolled towards his and Eddie’s office. ‘What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And what’s that terrible smell?’

‘Have a look for yourself. I ain’t going back in there.’

Vinny looked in disbelief at the bloodstained box and the two dead rats inside. Both rodents’ throats had been cut. ‘Who the fuck sent that?’

‘I don’t know, do I? Have a look at the postcode and see if there’s a note.’ Eddie was petrified of rats, even dead ones, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his new business partner.

Vinny put his hand inside the envelope and pulled out a typewritten note:

DEUTERONOMY 24:16

FATHERS SHALL NOT BE PUT TO DEATH BECAUSE OF THEIR CHILDREN, NOR SHALL CHILDREN BE PUT TO DEATH BECAUSE OF THEIR FATHERS. EACH ONE SHALL BE PUT TO DEATH FOR HIS OWN SIN.

Eddie could not but help stare at it in total horror. He and Vinny had only bought the gaff less than a fortnight ago and hadn’t overly broadcast their purchase yet.

‘Perhaps it was meant for the previous owner? Not got our names on the envelope, has it?’ Vinny said.

‘Don’t talk bollocks, Vin. Three days ago it was posted, from poxy Romford. You had grief with anyone recently you haven’t told me about?’

‘Don’t ya think I’ve had enough bleedin’ grief with all the incest bollocks and murder of my sacred aunt? I’ve been too busy holdin’ my grievin’, messed-up family together to be gettin’ up to no good.’

Rubbing the stubble of his chin as he usually did when deep in thought, Eddie Mitchell apologized. ‘I’m sorry, mate. It’s just worrying that we’ve already got grief and we ain’t even open yet. It’s obviously a quote from the bible or something. But who would send shit like that – and why?’

Vinny poured two large Scotches and handed a glass to his pal. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Probably some jealous bastard who wishes they were us. Best put it to the back of our minds, eh? I’m not being funny, but we’ve got enough on our plates as it is. Besides, if somebody was truly gunning for us they wouldn’t be sending us warnings. I had something similar happen to me donkey’s years ago. Funeral flower arrangement shaped as a gun, delivered to me mum’s with a card sayin’ “You’re next”. Sod-all came of it. Was probably that wrong ’un Ahmed trying to wind me up. And that’s all this is, a wind-up, so put it out of your mind, OK?’

‘Get rid of them rats and I will. Can hardly forget about it with that stench,’ Eddie complained.

Vinny chuckled, picked up the box, and eyed the dead rats. ‘You’re not scared of ickle rodents, are you, Mitchell?’

‘Leave off. It’s the smell. Making me feel queasy, it is.’

When Vinny sauntered out the office with the deceased Mickey and Minnie, Eddie sprayed some air freshener around before sitting on one of the luxurious leather chairs. Vinny had better not be telling him porkies, because if he was, he’d regret it.

‘You little squirt, what you think you’re doing?’ Harry O’Hara demanded menacingly. Harry and Georgie had been raised by their gypsy father, had only known their little brother for a matter of months, and Harry hated him with a passion.

Petrified of Harry, who was four years his senior, seven-year-old Brett averted his eyes and stared at his lap. If he had one wish in the world it would be that Georgie and Harry had never come to live with him. ‘I’m playing on my PlayStation Two.’

‘I’m playing on my PlayStation Two,’ Harry mimicked in a whiny voice. ‘Gis it ’ere. I wanna have a look.’

Too scared to say no, Brett’s hand shook as he handed over the controls.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Harry kicked the controls around the room like a football.

‘Stop! You’ll break it,’ Brett pleaded, his eyes welling up.

‘Stop. You’ll break it,’ Harry repeated, in an even sillier voice.

‘What’s all that racket up there? We’re going out in a minute, boys, so get yourselves ready and downstairs, please,’ shouted Frankie Mitchell. The eldest daughter of Eddie Mitchell, Frankie felt much older than her twenty-nine years just lately. She was elated Georgie and Harry were home, but they were bloody hard work. Her once long, glossy, dark hair was now dull and lifeless, her complexion was sallow, everything about her looked worn out. She’d never expected instant harmony, but neither had she expected daily battles and arguments. It was tiring, to say the least.

Grabbing Brett around the neck, Harry warned, ‘You tell Frankie I did anything and you’re dead meat. Got me, cry baby?’ Harry found it hard to believe Brett had the same parents as he and Georgie. The boy was such a wuss which was obviously Frankie’s doing. Brett would’ve been knocked into shape had their dad raised him.

Brett Mitchell nodded. Not for the first time since his brother moved in, he actually wished he was dead.

‘How’s it going? Sorry I couldn’t get here any earlier. Something cropped up with Eddie,’ Vinny Butler explained.

Queenie Butler stood on tiptoes to kiss her eldest son. Both her sons were six-foot-plus strapping, handsome men who wore their hair Brylcreemed and dressed in the finest designer suits and handmade shoes. Everybody always commented on how immaculate and well turned out her boys were, and that made Queenie swell with pride. ‘That’s OK, boy. Your brother and me have got most of the boxes unpacked already. I’ll put the kettle on now.’

Vinny closed the lounge door. ‘How’s she doing?’ he asked in a hushed tone.

‘OK. Better than we expected. Slept well, by all accounts, and she’s already fallen in love with her new garden. Reckons there’s loads more birds to feed round ’ere,’ Michael Butler replied.

‘D’ya reckon it’s an act?’

Michael shrugged. ‘Hard to tell with Mum, but she seems chirpy enough whichever way you look at it.’

Having lived the whole of her life in Whitechapel, seventy-four-year-old Queenie Butler had been forced to up sticks thanks to the brutal cold-blooded murder of her beloved sister, Vivian. Vinny had found his mum a nice bungalow in a quiet road in Hornchurch, and both he and Michael were keeping a close eye on her.

‘Talking about me, are ya?’ Queenie snapped, as she walked in the front room. Vinny was her eldest. He’d be fifty-six soon. Roy, her middle son, was six feet under. Michael was fifty-one.

A doting mother, Queenie could not be prouder of her boys. She’d encouraged them to make something of their lives from a very early age, and they had. Notoriety and wealth were wonderful attributes for a man to have, especially if they had the looks to go with it. Both Vinny and Michael oozed charm, and looked much younger than they should.

‘I was just saying to Michael, that couple opposite seem nice. Spoke to me again, they did. Said you’re to knock there if you need anything,’ Vinny told his mother.

Queenie pursed her thin lips. ‘Don’t like the look of ’em. Remind me of those notrights who had the bungalow next to us down at Kings. Perverts, they were. Swingers.’

‘You don’t know that for sure.’ Michael chuckled.

‘Well, I very much doubt the couple over the road are perverts or swingers. You gotta give people a chance round ’ere, Mum. You don’t want to alienate yourself,’ Vinny said sensibly.

‘I am quite capable of choosing my own friends, thank you. And I’m hardly gonna be bothering to socialize until I’ve given our Vivvy the send-off she thoroughly deserves. You spoken to them bastards any more about releasing the body?’

‘I rung the nick again this morning, but that DI Cater weren’t around. I’ve left another message for him to ring me back. I’d rather speak to the organ grinder than any of his two-bob monkeys,’ Vinny explained.

‘I don’t know what the hold-up is if they’ve got the lads who attacked Auntie Viv. Do you want me to go down to the station and make some noise?’ Michael offered.

‘I’ll tell you what the hold-up is, shall I? Our name is Butler. Always hated you boys since you made something of yourselves. Jealous bastards, because you earn far more money than they can even dream of,’ Queenie said bitterly.

‘Nah. Leave it, Michael – I’ll sort it. And don’t worry, Mum. Auntie Viv’ll have the best send-off the East End’s seen in a long, long time,’ Vinny vowed.

Turning away so her sons couldn’t see her misery, Queenie sniffed then put on her bravest voice. ‘I should bloody well think so an’ all.’

‘Harry, we’re in a restaurant now. Use your knife and fork, love,’ Frankie Mitchell urged.

‘Harry don’t know how to use a knife and fork,’ joked Georgie O’Hara.

‘Shut up, you tart,’ Harry said, grinning at his sister.

‘Please, Harry,’ Frankie pleaded.

Unlike Georgie, who had nice straight teeth and dark hair like their father, plus a cute button slightly turned-up nose like their mum’s, Harry O’Hara looked menacing. His mop of strawberry blonde hair rarely came into contact with a comb or brush, his nose was squashed like a boxer’s thanks to fighting, and he had a missing tooth at the front. He glared at his mother. He could not stand her; the way he saw it, she had ruined his once idyllic life. ‘Nah, prefer eating like this, Frankie,’ he told her. He never called her ‘Mum’ and knew that made her sad.

‘Do as your mother says, boy,’ Stuart Howells ordered. Stuart had been in love with Frankie long before they had got together, but she’d been so scarred by her relationship with Jed O’Hara, it had taken her ages to trust him.

‘Nah. You ain’t my dad, you can’t tell me what to do,’ Harry spat, his voice raised. In a lower voice, he added, ‘Dinlo.’

Realizing her fiancé was about to argue the point, Frankie squeezed his arm. People were already staring at them, like they usually did when they went out as a family. Frankie knew this was because of her children’s unruly behaviour and unusual accents. She’d often seen couples move tables, mumbling the word ‘gypsies’.

‘He’s been home nearly six months now, Frankie. You can’t keep allowing him to get away with the way he treats you,’ Stuart hissed, looking daggers at the child he loathed so much. Stuart had come to rue the day Georgie and Harry had been snatched from the gypsies and returned to Frankie. Their arrival had turned everybody’s lives upside down.

‘Leave my brother alone. Harry’s right. You ain’t our dad and you never will be,’ said thirteen-year-old Georgie. She was fiercely loyal when it came to Harry.

‘Now, let’s stop all this. I don’t want any arguing today of all days. This is Harry’s special day, and I want it to be perfect,’ Frankie said, smiling at her son, who was currently gnawing a lamb chop like a starving animal.

‘Special day. Silly old rabbit’s crotch,’ Harry whispered in his sister’s ear.

When Georgie whispered something back and both children burst out laughing, not wanting them to see she was upset, Frankie excused herself to go to the toilet. Once inside a cubicle, she pulled down the toilet seat, sat on it and allowed the tears to flow. How the hell had it come to this?

Harry had been a loveable four-year-old when Jed O’Hara and his family had disappeared into the night taking Frankie’s children with them. At the time, Frankie was residing in Holloway Prison due to stabbing Jed, and he had custody of the kids. Jed was an English gypsy who originated from Cambridgeshire, and his community stuck together like glue, so finding Georgie and Harry was never going to be easy, even for someone with Eddie Mitchell’s resources. Seven long, excruciating years it had taken until a tip-off from a traveller Frankie had met in prison reunited her with her children. It was one of the best days of her life, but also the worst. Georgie and Harry loathed her on sight and made it clear they didn’t remember her. Frankie had cherished every memory of her precious children and it broke her heart that to them she was no more than a stranger.

As Frankie dabbed her eyes and stared at her unhappy face in the compact mirror, she couldn’t help but think about the last birthday she’d spent with Harry. He’d been such a good little boy as a toddler. Gentle and sweet-natured. Now he was an uncouth, unrecognizable piece of work. But Frankie could not give up on him, or Georgie. It was her duty as a mother to love her children no matter what.

‘Mummy, where are you?’

Her youngest son’s voice snapped Frankie out of her depressive thoughts. Brett was Jed’s child also, had been born while she was in prison. But thankfully, unlike her other two, had been spared ever meeting his arsehole of a father, or sharing his surname.

Plastering a smile on her face, Frankie unlocked the cubicle and held Brett close. Georgie and Harry’s homecoming had turned his little world upside down as well. So much so, that lately Brett preferred staying with her dad and stepmother, Gina, who lived nearby. ‘How’s my favourite boy?’

‘Can I go to Granddad’s now please, Mum?’

‘We haven’t had our dessert yet, darling. Granddad is picking you up from our house later.’

‘I don’t want no dessert. I don’t like Georgie and Harry. They’re nasty and they scare me,’ Brett said, his lip wobbling.

Frankie crouched down. ‘Your brother and sister can’t help the way they are, love. Unlike you, who was brought up in the correct manner, poor Georgie and Harry were dragged up by not-so-nice people. It isn’t their fault, and even though I know this is difficult for you, we must all try to be patient with them and get along. Can you do that for Mummy?’

Knowing it would upset his mother greatly if he told her Harry regularly punched him in the ribs and broke his toys, Brett Mitchell simply nodded sadly.

Vinny Butler sauntered back from the bar. After a hard day’s graft with their mother ordering them about like a pair of skivvies, both he and Michael felt they deserved a drink.

‘Cheers, bruv. I reckon Mum’ll be happy there ya know, in time. Such a nice area, compared to Whitechapel. And with her arthritis, being in a bungalow’ll make life so much easier for her,’ Michael said.

‘Early days yet, but fingers crossed. Any more news on the boys or Roxanne?’

‘There is actually, but I don’t think we should tell Mum until after the funeral. I got a letter in the post from Lee this morning. He’s gone abroad to start afresh with Daniel. Reckons he won’t be coming back to England. He must’ve posted it on the way to the airport or something.’

‘Whereabouts are they?’

Michael shrugged. ‘Didn’t say. Gutted, I am. It’s not quite sunk in yet, but it looks like I’ve lost my sons for good.’

Vinny sighed. He’d been really close to Daniel, and hoped his nephew would stay in contact. It was all such a mess, it really was. Daniel had thought Roxanne was the girl of his dreams; he was so in love with her that when she told him she was pregnant, he’d asked her to marry him. He’d been about to slip the ring on her finger when Michael’s ex, Nancy – who everybody thought had committed suicide years earlier – ran into the registry office screaming, ‘He’s your brother!’ It turned out Roxanne was fifteen, not eighteen as she’d told Daniel, and nobody bar her deceitful mother had known she was Michael’s daughter – and Daniel’s little sister. Vinny shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe everything that’s happened these past few weeks. Even a zonked-out soap writer could not make it up. You spoken to Nancy since it happened?’

‘A couple of days ago. There’s still no word from Roxanne, and Nancy’s worried sick. Nancy mentioned involving the Old Bill again, but I managed to talk her out of it. No way do we want our kids splashed all over the front page of every newspaper. The press would have a sodding field day.’

‘Too right they would. Let’s hope Roxanne’s seen sense and got rid of the baby by now, else it’ll be too late to abort it. What’ll you do if she bastard well keeps it?’

‘Cheer me up, why don’t ya, Vin? Nah, she won’t keep it. What sort of bird chooses to raise their own brother’s child? I know she lied about her age, but you gotta remember Roxanne didn’t have a clue she and Dan were related until Nancy showed up.’

‘I wouldn’t bank on her getting rid of the kid. If you ask me she takes after her mother: a nutjob and a compulsive fucking liar.’

Eddie Mitchell handed his least favourite grandson a card. ‘Happy birthday, boy. I didn’t know what to get you, so thought if I got you vouchers your mum could take you to Lakeside and you could pick something out yourself.’ Eddie hated calling the child Harry. He knew who he’d been named after and why, and that made him feel sick to the stomach.

‘Ta. Can me and Georgie go outside now?’ Harry asked his mother.

‘Yes. But put your jackets on. It’s nippy out there.’

‘Not if you were brought up as a traveller it ain’t. We don’t feel the cold like you gorgers. Come on,’ Harry ordered, grabbing his sister’s arm.

‘And if them blokes come anywhere near us I’m gonna kick ’em in the balls. You can’t keep us here like prisoners for ever, you know,’ Georgie yelled, before slamming the back door.

Eddie glanced at Stuart. They’d been pals long before Stuart had got together with Frankie and both were uncomfortable with the current arrangement. It just wasn’t right.

When Eddie had first snatched the kids from a gypsy site in Scotland, Frankie and Brett had been happily sharing a house in Brentwood with her pal Babs, and Babs’ son, Jordan. The arrival of ‘the devil’s spawn’, as Eddie sometimes referred to Georgie and Harry, soon changed all that. They led poor Jordan a dog’s life, so much so, Babs moved out with her son within a month of their arrival. Frankie couldn’t cope on her own, so Stuart moved in to help out, but every time their backs were turned, Georgie and Harry tried to do a runner. Brentwood station was the last place Eddie had found the banes of his life. They’d been about to board a train when he’d grabbed hold of them from behind.

Frankie had pleaded with her father to find them somewhere more secure, so Eddie had rented a big gaff not far from him. The house had acres around it, and was surrounded by CCTV and six-foot metal railings and gates. He’d also hired a security team and had a little office built near the entrance so the kids could not escape.

‘Georgie does have a point, babe. Reminds me of Colditz, and the lease runs out in eight months. This was only ever meant to be a temporary measure. You’re gonna have to trust ’em at some point. They need to go to school and mix with other kids if they’re ever gonna turn out half normal,’ Eddie advised.

‘No way! Georgie hated school when she was little and ran away even back then. If I send them to school they will just disappear again, I know they will,’ Frankie’s voice was panic-stricken.

Stuart put an arm around his wife-to-be. He’d proposed three months to the day he and Frankie had first got together. They’d been friends for a long time beforehand, but because of all the upheaval surrounding Georgie and Harry, they’d yet to set a date or even discuss the actual wedding. ‘Frankie wants to hire a tutor and teach them from home, Ed,’ Stuart said, raising his eyebrows to show his displeasure.

Eddie was desperate for his daughter to see sense. ‘Ruined everyone’s lives, that pair of little fuckers have. Why d’ya think Brett is upstairs in his bedroom as we speak, Frankie? And why do you think he wants to stay at mine and Gina’s all the time? Because the poor little sod is desperately unhappy, that’s why. Brett’s a shell of his former self and it’s about time you started putting him, yourself and Stuart first, girlie. Let the little bastards run away and see how far they get. The O’Haras no longer live on that site near Glasgow. A desolate piece of land, that is now. And before you ask how I know, I had someone check it out for me. You got to be cruel to be kind sometimes, so if Georgie and Harry think the grass is greener in Scotland, let ’em have a mooch up there. They’ll soon come back with their tails between their sorry legs. You mark my words.’

‘You don’t know Jed like I do. He’ll never let them go. He’ll be waiting and watching in the wings, then as soon as an opportunity arises he’ll snatch Georgie and Harry and take them away. I know you said he’ll never bother me again, Dad, but I’m telling you he will. He’s pure evil.’

Eddie and Stuart shared a knowing look. Nobody bar those present on that fateful night knew exactly what had happened, but perhaps now was the time to let Frankie into a little secret. ‘Jed’s dead, Frankie. So’s his old man,’ Eddie said bluntly.

Frankie looked at her father with an incredulous expression. ‘When? How? Who told you? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Eddie moved over to the sofa and put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Because you’d only just got the kids back and had enough on your plate at the time.’

‘Did you kill them?’ Frankie bellowed.

‘No,’ Eddie replied honestly. ‘But I can assure you they’re both dead.’

Tears of anger streaming down her face, Frankie pummelled her father’s chest with her fists. ‘Why did you only tell me you’d scared them away for good? Don’t you know how many nights I’ve laid awake wondering if and when Jed might come back? I will never believe another word that comes out of your mouth. You’re a liar. A wicked, evil liar.’

Eddie grabbed her wrists. ‘Got some front, you have. Talk about pot calling kettle! Slipped your mind to tell me that evil toe-rag you were shacked up with brutally murdered your grandfather, didn’t it?’

‘I explained why I never told you, and you said we’d never mention it again,’ Frankie screamed.

Eddie’s father Harry Mitchell was a legend in East London, and a notorious underworld figure. Until 1988, when he’d been battered to death whilst tucked up in his bed. His killer had never been caught and it only came to light on the day Jed died that he was the one responsible. Frankie knew, by all accounts. She’d heard Jed and his cousin Sammy joking about it. That’s why Frankie had stabbed Jed and ended up in prison. She knew at that point Jed was beyond evil and she needed to get him away from her children. She’d meant to kill him, but unfortunately failed. Frankie hadn’t told her father the truth at the time because she was worried for his safety. She was also scared her dad would get locked up for life and Georgie and Harry would be taken away from her by the authorities. Looking back now, Frankie cursed her stupidity. Even if the authorities had stepped in, her children could not have turned out any worse than they had. And her father was more than capable of looking after his bloody self.

‘You mustn’t tell anybody about Jed and Jimmy, babe. Only I’ll be in trouble too. We all will,’ Stuart warned.

‘Joey was there, wasn’t he? He saw Jed and his old man die.’ Frankie’s twin brother hadn’t been the same person since that night. Though he’d refused to confide in her, she’d known something must have happened to him. ‘No wonder he gave up his bloody job. He’s haunted by what he saw, I bet,’ she cried.

Eddie and Stuart shared an awkward glance. Joey had been the one who pulled the trigger and killed Jed and Jimmy, but Eddie would take that piece of information to his grave with him. So would the other men who’d been there that night: Stuart, Raymond, Terry and Eddie’s eldest son, Gary. His second eldest, Ricky, was already dead when Joey turned up, and the rest of them were tied up and about to die. Joey had saved them all, and saved the day. ‘Joey never saw sod-all. None of us did, OK?’ Eddie growled.

Frankie was about to interrogate her father some more, when Georgie’s screams stopped her. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, leaping up off the sofa.

‘Longtails! Loads of ’em. Hate ’em, I do. Nanny Alice says they’re evil and a curse like magpies. She’s frit to death of them,’ Georgie gabbled.

Eddie was bemused. ‘What’s she on about?’ he asked Stuart.

‘Longtails are a gypsy word for rats. The kids have a phobia of them,’ said Stuart, ‘I saw one yesterday. Think there’s a family of ’em living under the decking.’

Harry put his hands on his hips. ‘’Orrible, they are. Granddad Jimmy once put a dead longtail in Old Man Macca’s bed when he knocked him for a horsebox. Nanny Alice said the curse of the longtail would rub off on Old Man Macca and it did. A week later the old shitcunt crashed the horsebox and died.’

Eddie felt his complexion change colour. Given that Vinny Butler had more skeletons in his closet than a full-to-the-brim graveyard, he’d been sure the dead-rat delivery had been aimed at his partner. Now that seemed unlikely. Too much of a coincidence. Perhaps the remaining O’Haras had tracked him down and sent the rats to the casino?

‘You all right, Ed?’ Stuart asked. At thirty-four, Stuart often got mistaken for Eddie’s younger brother. Both were tall, dark and broad-shouldered. Eddie had taken Stuart under his wing in prison. A strong friendship had developed which had since resulted in Stuart becoming a part of Eddie’s firm.

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah. I was just thinking about what Frankie said earlier. That home-tutoring lark might be a good idea after all. For now, at least.’

‘Why the sudden change of heart?’ Frankie snapped, her tone as cold as ice.

Not wanting to worry his daughter, Eddie casually replied, ‘I just want what’s best for the children. That’s what we all want, isn’t it?’

CHAPTER TWO

Gina Mitchell was awoken by her husband’s naked arm and leg entwining with her own. She rolled over. ‘Not again. I’m sure you have a sex addiction,’ she smiled.

Eddie Mitchell kissed Gina on her naturally luscious lips. ‘Never. I’m just more hot-blooded than most men. Don’t knock a good thing, darlin’. You don’t know how lucky you are. Women are queuing up to be in your position,’ he joked, tantalizingly circling Gina’s vaginal lips with his middle finger.

Gina chuckled, then sighed as Eddie’s finger finally made contact with her clitoris. He was a joker, her man, but as loyal as a guide dog. He’d never cheated on his previous wife Jessica, and Gina knew he would never betray her either. Eddie Mitchell was a one-woman man, that was his finest attribute, as well as being permanently horny, charming, funny and incredibly handsome.

Eddie entered Gina then allowed her to take charge by riding him. His wife was forty-two, seventeen years his junior, but nobody ever guessed there was such an age gap. Gina was of Irish origin, had a mass of dark wavy hair, the longest legs Ed had ever seen in the flesh, and was incredibly beautiful. He, however, did not look a day over forty-five. Many people told him so. He’d started training while serving time in prison and had kept the gym sessions up on the outside. His body was lean, and the only sign of Eddie’s true age were the grey hairs that now mingled with his dark-brown.

Gina quickened her movement and ran her hand down Eddie’s battle wound. The scar ran from the outside of her husband’s left eye to the corner of his mouth and Gina had always found it quite a turn-on. It was a reminder of what he’d once been. Before they’d got together, Ed had run a pub protection racket and been a loan shark, and this particular scar had been given to him back in the seventies by Jimmy O’Hara. There were few secrets between them. A lot of Ed’s past had come to light in court, and the rest he’d told her in person.

‘I love you,’ Ed whispered, his orgasm nearing.

‘I love you too,’ Gina responded, running her fingers through her man’s hair to smooth it down.

Eddie still had a full head of hair and wore it in a short-back-and-sides style. It was a standing joke between him and Gina that once it got to a certain length it would start to curl, and it was in desperate need of a cut at present.

‘I’m nearly there. You?’ Eddie mumbled, his face reddening with desire.

Before she could reply, a voice said, ‘Mum, why are you sitting on Daddy’s tummy? Get off, you’re hurting him.’

‘Rosie! You mustn’t creep about like that.’ Gina rolled off Eddie and was horrified to see Aaron standing next to his sister in the doorway. She pulled the cover over her body to hide her nakedness. Rosie was only two, but Aaron was six now and had already started to ask questions about the birds and the bees. ‘Why do boys have a winkle and girls don’t, Mum?’

Eddie sighed. ‘Talk about pick your moment.’ His own winkle had just shrunk.

‘Why don’t you knock first? I’ve always told you to, haven’t I?’ Gina scolded.

Rosie’s eyes filled up. ‘Because I thought you were hurting my daddy.’

Aaron put an arm around his little sister’s shoulders. ‘It’s OK, Rosie. They were making us a brother and sister.’

Eddie chuckled. ‘No chance of that, I’m afraid. You two are enough to put a sperm donor off having any more kids.’

When her children leapt on the bed, Gina couldn’t help but laugh. She turned to Eddie. ‘The wonders of bloody parenthood, eh?’

Vinny Butler breathed heavily as he threw Felicity Carter-Price on to the bed, then forcefully tied her legs and arms to the posts. She was face downwards, just the way he liked his women.

‘Get off me. Who are you?’ Felicity shrieked, while trying to wriggle out of Vinny’s grasp.

Lifting his hand, Vinny whacked it as hard as he could against Felicity’s bare buttocks. ‘You’ll find out soon enough, slut.’

Felicity begged for mercy until, unable to move, she lay on the bed defeated. Seconds later, she screamed in agony as the huge vibrator was shoved up her backside without as much as a smear of KY Jelly.

Vinny grunted and groaned when he replaced the vibrator with his pulsating penis. He’d met Felicity earlier that year when she’d started working at his Holborn Gentleman’s Club as an exotic dancer. He preferred to think of her as that rather than a stripper or plain old lap-dancer. Exotic had a certain ring to it, and she was certainly exotic in the sack. Fliss, as he called her, was as keen on wild sexual role-play as he was. Vinny liked her to pretend she was a stranger and he was a rapist. Not once had Fliss complained. Anything he suggested they try, she was up for.

Vinny’s orgasm was powerful and, once over, he untied Felicity and lay on his back, sweating. That was another thing he liked about this particular relationship. She wasn’t demanding. Vinny wasn’t one to go down on women, he didn’t even like kissing them, truth be known. Sex was all about what he got out of it. In Vinny’s eyes, a woman was born to please a man. Although that didn’t apply to his close female family members, of course. He always wanted the best for those. His mother had deserved far better than his drunken bum of a father. And one day he hoped Ava would meet a wealthy bloke who wasn’t cut from his cloth. He wanted his daughter to be with a man who had a decent, law-abiding career and who would treat her like a princess.

Felicity snuggled up to Vinny. He was a selfish lover, but so good to her in other ways; she was willing to overlook his faults. She was also seeing more and more of him, which pleased her immensely. She knew she was Vinny’s first proper girlfriend in years, and that he was a hard nut to crack because of his past. It was only recently he’d started opening up and Felicity could tell he was warming towards her. He’d even kissed her properly and passionately on a few occasions of late.

Feeling more relaxed around a woman than he could ever remember, Vinny planted a kiss on Felicity’s forehead. He’d had his heart broken as a teenager by Yvonne Summers and he’d never really recovered from that. The few relationships he’d had since were based solely on sex or payback. The only reason he’d snared Joanna Preston was to get even with her father. Johnny Preston had shot his brother Roy, and it appealed to Vinny’s warped mind to impregnate his daughter, especially as the bullet had been meant for him in the bloody first place. As for Little Vinny’s mother, Karen, she’d been a stripper at his old club and he’d only been using her for the odd shag.

‘What are you thinking?’ Felicity asked.

‘I was thinking it’s about time we went public. Not to my family, yet, but we will soon. First, though, I’d like you to meet my new business partner and his wife. You’ll like Eddie Mitchell, he’s good craic. And Gina’s OK too. I’m sure you’ll have lots of girlie stuff in common. Shall I give ’em a bell, see if they’re free tonight? I’ll book a restaurant, take us somewhere nice.’

Felicity pecked Vinny on the lips. ‘I’d like that very much.’

Gina Mitchell was none too enthralled by the evening ahead. She’d met Vinny Butler on a couple of occasions in the past, but had yet to form any kind of connection with the man. Unlike her Eddie, who was a loveable rogue who liked a laugh, she could sense Vinny had more of a sinister serious side to him and little respect for women in general.

‘Cheer up, for Christ’s sake. We rarely go out on our own these days, so let’s make the most of it, eh? Vinny’s footing the bill an’ all, so make sure you order the most expensive champagne and food on the menu,’ Eddie Mitchell joked.

‘What’s Vinny’s girlfriend like? You told me in the past that he was destined to remain a bachelor for the rest of his life,’ Gina reminded her husband.

‘Well, he was. But a bit like me and you, I suppose, darlin’, love sometimes smacks you in the chops when you’re not exactly searching for it. I don’t know that much about Felicity, but Vinny’s definitely taken with her. She’s a lot younger than him – mid-to-late twenties, I think. Oh, and she used to work for him as a dancer at his Holborn club.’

When Gina turned to look out the car window, Eddie squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be worrying about the kids, they’ll be fine. You know how they adore Joey and vice versa.’

She wanted to bellow, I am not worried about our children, Eddie. I’m more concerned about trying to hold a conversation with your strange friend and his young stripper, but instead Gina bit her tongue. Her husband wasn’t a fool and if he deemed Vinny Butler to be a good enough man to go into business with, Gina knew she must make an effort for his sake.

‘Who is it?’ Queenie Butler shouted, her voice full of suspicion. Even though her new home was in a much nicer area than Whitechapel, after what had befallen Viv, no way was she taking any chances.

‘It’s me, Nan.’

Queenie opened the door and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Her grandson was holding a large bouquet, his wife a beautiful potted plant and her eldest great-grandson had a balloon with WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME scrawled across it. ‘This is unexpected. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

Little Vinny was Vinny’s eldest child and Queenie’s first grandchild. He put his free arm around his nan and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We’re neighbours now, aren’t we? Dad said he wasn’t about tonight and Sammi-Lou thought we’d surprise you. I’ll treat us to a takeaway.’

‘I’m not fond of that Indian or Chinese rubbish, as you well know. A nice bit of fish and chips’ll do me,’ Queenie said, hugging Sammi-Lou. Her grandson’s wife was, in Queenie’s eyes, a godsend. Though she was no ravishing beauty – she’d put on quite a bit of weight since having the children – she had a pretty enough face, but it was her personality that had won Queenie over. The girl had a heart of gold and Queenie only wished her own sons would take a leaf out of Little Vinny’s book and date an average-looking girl instead of the bloody glamour model types they seemed to go for. There’d been a time when Queenie had worried and despaired over Little Vinny’s future, but meeting Sammi-Lou and becoming a father had been the making of him.

‘It’s a nice bungalow, Nan. I like your kitchen. When you going to invite me round for a Sunday roast? Mum’s isn’t as good as yours,’ Oliver Butler said, winking at his mother.

Queenie gave her favourite great-grandson a hug. He was sixteen now, a proper little man. Unlike his father, who was a typical Butler male, tall and dark-haired, Oliver had the trademark Butler bright green eyes but was blond. ‘Where’s your brother?’ Queenie asked. Oliver had two brothers: Regan, the youngest, was currently serving a sentence for stabbing his school teacher; it was the middle child Queenie was referring to.

‘Calum’s gone round a pal’s to play Pokémon,’ Oliver replied.

Little Vinny raised his eyebrows. ‘How times have changed since I was a lad, eh, Nan? Kids don’t want to breathe fresh air or do much bar play computer games these days.’ The truth was, Calum had been in a foul mood and refused to visit Queenie, but Little Vinny didn’t want to hurt his grandmother’s feelings by telling her that.

‘Oh well, at least if Calum’s indoors playing games he can’t put you through what you did me. Little bastard, you were, out street-raking with that Ben Bloggs. Surprised I never went grey.’

Seeing her grandson’s relaxed expression change, Queenie grabbed him by the arm. ‘Your father and uncles were bastards an’ all. Now, come and look at the garden. I’ve decided to do a memorial fence in honour of Vivvy.’

Little Vinny followed his nan outside. She pointed to the right-hand fence and told him of her plans to put a plaque up, plus a framed photo of Viv. ‘I’ll plant a rose bush in her honour too. She loved a garden, did Vivvy, boy, and I can’t see myself going to that cemetery much. Be too upsetting, especially as it’s all still so raw. If and when those bastards finally decide to release her body, I’ll go to the funeral then remember her here for the time being. You and your dad can drive over there once a week to make sure the grave’s tidy, can’t you? Leave some fresh flowers an’ all. Vivvy’s going in the same grave as Lenny. Be nice, pair of ’em resting in peace together. It’s what she wanted.’

Little Vinny couldn’t speak. Lenny’s grave was very close to Molly’s and he hadn’t been able to visit that cemetery for years. How could he, after the atrocious crime he had committed? The guilt wouldn’t allow him to. It wasn’t right. But neither had he been, back in the day. Not right at all. In fact, he’d been evil.

Having dreaded the evening ahead, Gina Mitchell was pleasantly surprised. Vinny had been thoroughly charming and his pretty young girlfriend was adorable, rather posh and extremely good company.

Vinny clicked his fingers. ‘Another bottle of champers over ’ere, guv,’ he shouted, well aware that he and Eddie were the focus of the rest of the diners. With their swagger and sharp suits, they looked what they were: top-class villains. Both had evaded the law and had their fingers in many pies over the years while hiding behind legit businesses.

‘You still got the salvage yard, Ed? Not heard you mention it for yonks,’ Vinny asked.

‘Sold it a while back. I thought I told you. No need to hang on to it any longer. Everything’s above board for the first time in my life,’ Eddie chuckled. Unlike Vinny, who’d always owned a club or two, Ed’s enterprises, aside from the salvage business, had all been dodgy. Earnings from pub protection and loan-sharking weren’t exactly something you declared to the taxman. He’d made plenty of dosh over the decades, but these days Gina and the kids came first and he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks so he’d knocked everything bent on the head. He was looking forward to getting his teeth into the new venture, and had put the nasty surprise received yesterday to the back of his mind. He’d yet to tell Vinny that he thought the gypsies were behind it, but he planned to when the time was right.

‘Found a new number plate earlier: VB1. Gonna treat meself to it, put it on the new Range Rover. Arm and a leg job the price, mind,’ Vinny bragged.

Eddie burst out laughing. ‘You bell-end. I remember you telling me private number plates were a waste of wonga and a curse, ’cause every bastard clocks where you are. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb with that one, pal.’

Vinny shrugged. ‘As you said, we’re all above board now, so why not? I certainly haven’t got any enemies, so if you have, best you speak up now.’

Eddie gave Vinny a warning look. He had told him earlier that under no circumstances was he to mention the dead rats to Gina as he didn’t want to worry her. ‘Oh well, each to their own, mate.’

Aware that Vinny wasn’t very amused, Gina chuckled falsely and punched Eddie on the arm. ‘Don’t be taking no notice of him, Vinny. He made me go for a test drive in a Rolls-Royce with him the other day. A bright red convertible, I kid you not.’

Vinny put his arm around Felicity’s shoulders and leaned back in his chair, rolling up. ‘You prick! Don’t tell me you bought it, Ed?’

‘Nah. Gina reckoned it wasn’t suitable for everyday use with the kids. She has got a point, I suppose. I was bloody tempted though. You should’ve seen the interior. It’s the bollocks of a motor and a dream to drive.’

When the men started chatting and bantering about motors, Gina moved next to Felicity. She was very beautiful, classy and reminded Gina of a younger version of Bella, Michael Butler’s other half. Gina knew that Vinny had once had a fling with Bella when she and Michael weren’t together. They’d even produced a child, and Gina could not help wonder if that was what had attracted Vinny to Felicity in the first place. She could remember Eddie telling her a while back that Vinny had once had a fixation with Bella.

‘Is it always like this, people looking over? I know when I worked at the club, Vinny was seen as some kind of god, but I didn’t expect him to be so well known in a restaurant in Ongar,’ said Felicity.

Gina smiled. Smith’s restaurant was a favourite haunt of hers and Eddie’s, and it was her husband who’d suggested coming here when Vinny rang up earlier. ‘You’ll get used to it. I think Eddie and Vinny are reasonably well known wherever they go. It can be a pain in the butt at times, especially if the children are with us. I remember going to a restaurant in Brentwood a few years ago and Eddie got pestered left, right and centre. Aaron was only young then and the attention scared him.’

‘Vinny doesn’t take me out much, to be honest. You’re the first friends of his I’ve dined with. That lady with the short blonde bob we spoke about earlier is looking over again at your Eddie. Does that not bother you, Gina?’

Gina laughed. ‘Not at all. For a start, Eddie is well aware I’d chop his testicles off if he even thought about messing me around. And secondly, there are some sad, lonely women in this world. The amount of times I’ve seen women try to chat Eddie up or pass him their phone number is far too many to count.’

‘Really! I don’t think I would like that at all. It’s very disrespectful to do such a thing in front of you.’

Having been half-earwigging, Vinny turned to Felicity. ‘What’s disrespectful?’

‘Nothing important. We’re just having a girlie chat.’

‘Come on, I wanna hear it. Otherwise that’s disrespectful, isn’t it? To be sitting on the same table as your bloke, who’s treated you to a top night out, and whispering behind his back.’

Gina glanced at Eddie while Felicity spilled the beans. She knew her husband wouldn’t be bothered about anything they’d spoken about, so why was Vinny?

Eddie moved seats and kissed Gina on the cheek. ‘Can’t help being a handsome bastard who regularly attracts menopausal old birds, can I?’ he joked.

Aware of the angry glint in Vinny’s eyes as he grilled Felicity over something she’d said, Gina leaned towards her husband’s ear. ‘I know he’s your business partner, but I feel sorry for that poor woman. Vinny’s not like you. He’s possessive and arrogant.’

‘More like nosy and pissed. Vin’s OK, Gina. He’s got a good side, very loyal – he’s offered to watch my back many a time if I needed him to. You’ll get used to him in time. He’s just not used to being with a woman. Jo died years ago and this dating lark is all new to him,’ Ed whispered back.

Gina wasn’t a big drinker as a rule. She was devoted to being a mother these days, an odd glass of wine occasionally once the children were in bed was all she consumed. Forgetting to whisper, she blurted out, ‘I don’t care what you say, Felicity won’t be happy with him.’

Vinny smashed his glass against the table. ‘Sorry, Gina. I didn’t quite catch that, love. If you’ve got something to say to me, I’d prefer you to say it to my face.’

Eddie Mitchell leapt out of his chair, grabbed Vinny by the arm and marched him out to the toilets.

‘Don’t be getting bolshie with me, Ed,’ Vinny spat, his eyes blazing. ‘It’s your old woman you want to be having a word with. I heard every fucking thing she spouted,’ he added, releasing his arm from Eddie’s grasp like a petulant child.

Once inside the men’s a furious Eddie Mitchell grabbed hold of Vinny’s lapels and pushed him against the wall. ‘You need to man up, you do, and start acting like a gentleman. We’ve all had a skinful tonight, but that doesn’t excuse your lack of respect. Gina isn’t a “love”, as you so nicely put it; neither is she an “old woman”. Gina is a Mitchell. My wife and the mother of my kids – and don’t you ever forget that, Vinny. Because if you do, me and you are gonna fall out big time. Under-fucking-stand?’

CHAPTER THREE

‘I think it might be three, six, four, Harry. Keep those numbers firmly in your head and as soon as we get a chance, we’ll try them,’ Georgie O’Hara said.

Desperate to return to the family that had raised her, Georgie O’Hara had been racking her brain for weeks trying to remember her boyfriend Ryan’s phone number. She knew it started in 07973 and ended in 187, but the middle numbers she could not seem to fathom.

‘I reckon Dad and Granddad Jimmy are dead ya know, Georgie. They would have come and rescued us by now if they were still alive. Eddie telling us they went back to Scotland is a load of bollocks. No way would Dad go back to Scotland without us.’

Eyes welling up, Georgie squeezed her brother’s hand. She feared the same but prayed she was wrong. She knew her father and Granddad Jimmy had followed her and Harry on the day they’d been abducted because she and her brother had heard the mumblings of Eddie and the others. ‘I’ve got a plan. Why don’t we say sorry to Mum for being bad yesterday, then beg her to take us to Joycie’s birthday party. We can’t use the phone here ’cause the numbers will show up on the bill and we’ll get into trouble like we did before. But we can use Joycie’s. She must have a phone upstairs. Most gorgers have phones in their bedrooms.’ Joyce Smith was their great-grandmother, their dead Nanny Jessica’s mum, but neither Georgie nor Harry really remembered her from the past. Neither did they like her very much, which was why they called her ‘Joycie’ rather than ‘Nan’.

Harry shrugged. ‘I ain’t saying sorry to Frankie though. I wish she’d die.’

Backcombing her dyed-blonde hair into a bouffant, Joyce Smith repeatedly yelled her husband’s name.

Stanley Smith puffed out his cheeks as he ambled up the stairs. Today would be the first time he’d been forced to socialize with the man who had murdered his daughter since she’d died, and Stanley was dreading being in close proximity to Eddie no-good Mitchell.

Jessica’s death had been a tragic case of mistaken identity, but that didn’t lessen Stanley’s hatred towards the man who’d snuffed out her life. Eddie had thought it was Frankie’s gypsy boyfriend hiding under the bed in a trailer in Tilbury when he’d manically fired that machine gun. Jessica had been pregnant at the time with her and Eddie’s third child, so Mitchell had two lots of blood on his hands. In Stanley’s eyes, a judge and jury should have locked Eddie up for life, but they didn’t. He got found guilty of only the firearms offence and was let out of prison far too soon.

‘You’re not wearing that, Stanley. You look like a bundle of shit tied up ugly. Go and put your blue suit on, and wear that new tie I bought you.’

‘I’m not wearing a suit and bloody tie indoors. I’ll look like a poxy doctor’s clerk,’ Stanley complained.

‘I bet you wore a suit for the old slapper. Now go and get changed. Chop, chop.’ Joyce had been equally appalled and devastated when Stanley had once left her and moved in with that brazen old bag, Pat the Pigeon. To this day, Stanley insisted they’d been just good friends and their relationship was platonic, but Joyce wasn’t a forgiving woman. Most days she would remind her husband of his infidelity, especially when she wanted her own way, or jobs around the house doing.

Mumbling obscenities, Stanley took his suit out of the wardrobe.

‘Answer that phone. I’m doing my make-up,’ Joyce shouted out.

Stanley did as he was told, then relayed the message to his wife. ‘That was Eddie. He said Frankie’s bringing Georgie and Harry with her, but you’re not to worry as he’s invited some other kids to keep them occupied.’

Dropping her make-up brush, Joyce looked at her husband in despair. ‘But they can’t come. I’ve invited Rita and Hilda now, and Jock and your pigeon club mates. We can’t have the monsters running riot amongst friends, Stanley. Whatever will they think?’ Joyce wasn’t a big fan of her gypsy great-grandchildren. They were terribly behaved and reminded her of all the bad things that had happened over the years. If Frankie hadn’t got in with that Jed O’Hara, her Jessica would still be alive today.

Stanley shrugged. ‘Eddie better not be bringing his kids by that other woman. He’s not, is he?’ Eddie Mitchell was remarried now to a woman called Gina and Stanley had no wish to meet her or her children.

‘No. Eddie’s coming with Vinny Butler and his mum, Queenie.’

‘Vinny Butler! Jesus wept, Joycie! I know you love mixing with the criminal fraternity, but you’re asking for bleedin’ trouble inviting those Butlers to our home. They’re rotten to the core, you silly woman.’

‘That was my dad. Vinny Butler’s son is coming and bringing his kids, so Georgie and Harry will have some company. I do hope they don’t start performing, Stuart. I can tell my nan don’t like them very much.’

Stuart held his pretty fiancée in his arms and stroked her long dark hair. Frankie had changed since Georgie and Harry’s return. She’d lost a lot of weight and her once happy persona had all but disappeared. ‘Today will be fine. Kids will be kids – there’s no point worrying about it, babe.’

Frankie clung to Stuart, taking in the smell of his familiar aftershave. What she would have done without him these past six months she did not know. He was her rock and she could never have coped alone.

In Queenie Butler’s opinion, she looked bloody good for her seventy-four years. Her shoulder-length straight hair was regularly dyed blonde and she wouldn’t be seen dead without her make-up on. She was still the same ten dress size as when she’d got married and, considering she was short, Queenie classed that as an achievement. Both herself and Vivian had loathed the thought of ever letting themselves go.

‘You look beautiful, Mum,’ Vinny told her. His mother hadn’t wanted to attend Eddie’s ex-mother-in-law’s birthday bash, but Vinny had managed to talk her round by pretending she was doing both he and Eddie a big favour. He was desperate for his mum to make friends in Essex and was hoping that she and Joycie would hit it off. Like most people, including Eddie, Vinny always referred to Joyce as Joycie.

Queenie picked up her handbag. She and Vivian had always had a passion for dressing up in nice clothes and it felt weird getting glammed up without her sister’s presence. ‘I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, but I’m not staying long, Vinny. It doesn’t feel right, not with Vivvy still lying on a slab. In fact, I think I might get changed, wear black instead.’

‘No, don’t. That green really suits you and Auntie Viv wouldn’t want you walking around for weeks on end wearing black. She liked bright colours, and she’d want you to try and enjoy yourself today, wouldn’t she?’

‘Fat chance of that happening. Come on; let’s go before I change my mind.’

‘Hurry up, Sammi. The boys are ravenous and so am I,’ Little Vinny urged.

‘I can’t do my jeans up and I look like an elephant. You go with the boys and I’ll stay here.’

Little Vinny opened the bedroom door. His wife had put on a stone and a half since they’d first met, but he had no issues about her weight at all and wished he could convince her how stunning she was. ‘You’ve got to come, Sammi. I want us all to go as a family.’

‘But we don’t even know the woman whose birthday it is, Vin. No way am I turning up at someone’s party without a present. We’ll have to stop at a florist’s on the way.’

‘OK. We’ll get a bouquet and a card if it makes you happy. And you will look beautiful in whatever you wear, so just put a spurt on,’ Little Vinny ordered, playfully squeezing Sammi-Lou’s backside. Meeting Sammi had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. They had three sons whom they doted on and couldn’t wait for their youngest Regan to be allowed home. He was currently serving a bit of juvenile bird for stabbing his school teacher with a pair of scissors, but had behaved himself since and all being well would be released in the next few months.

When her husband locked the bedroom door, Sammi-Lou scolded him as he began kissing around her neck. He knew she found that a turn-on. ‘I thought you was in a rush. We can’t, not now. The boys will hear us.’

Little Vinny grinned as he put his wife’s hand on his erect penis. ‘Nah, they won’t. We’ll be extra quiet.’

The four-bedroomed house that Joyce and Stanley now lived in had once been Jessica and Eddie’s marital home. Eddie had signed it over to Joyce whilst in prison, insisting it was what Jessica would have wanted. Stanley saw it as a guilty gesture and blood money, but instead of telling Eddie where to stick his unusual offer, Joyce, being the boastful show-off that she was, could not wait to collect their belongings from their old house in Upney and up sticks for good.

Panicking at the thought of her great-grandchildren embarrassing her, Joyce was running around like a blue-arsed fly to keep herself busy. ‘Tidy up that corner again by your armchair. The guests will be arriving soon,’ she shrieked.

‘Stop getting in such a two and eight, woman. And they’re not guests. They’re friends and family – well, apart from the notorious underworld figures you’ve invited. They’re guests, unwanted ones.’

Brett Mitchell stared miserably out of the window of Stuart’s motor. He had been really looking forward to seeing his granddad and great-grandparents, until Harry had threatened to drown him in the swimming pool earlier. Now he didn’t want to go to the party. Water scared him and he couldn’t swim very well. ‘I feel ill, Mum. Can I go to Granddad’s house instead? I have a bellyache and want to lie down,’ Brett lied.

‘Bellyache! What’s that when it’s at home?’ Harry taunted, grabbing his little brother in a none-too-gentle headlock.

‘Stop that, Harry. Leave your brother alone, love,’ Frankie ordered. ‘Brett, you must come to the party. Nanny Joycie will be upset if you’re not there, and you don’t want to spoil her birthday, do you? You can lie down on her bed until your tummy ache has gone.’

Stuart watched surreptitiously through the interior mirror. He was sure that little bastard Harry had been picking on Brett, but he’d yet to catch him in the act. He’d even asked Brett in a roundabout way, but Brett had denied there was any issue.

‘Tummy ache,’ Harry said in a silly voice. A warning nudge and look from his big sister stopped him from saying anything else.

Stuart kept half an eye on the mirror and finally saw Harry pinch his prey. Brett winced, and Stuart angrily slammed his foot on the brake.

‘What’s the matter?’ Frankie asked.

‘I’m taking Brett round your dad’s. He looks a bit peaky to me. Gina will look after him.’

Feeling a sense of relief wash over him, Brett’s heartbeat returned to normal.

When Jessica was killed, Joyce swore she wanted nothing more to do with Eddie Mitchell, but time was a healer and she knew how much Ed had loved her daughter. Apart from a few minor ups and downs, they really had been the perfect couple until that fateful evening in Tilbury.

‘Eddie, thank you so much. They’re beautiful,’ Joyce gushed, waving the bouquet in the air so her old neighbours Rita and Hilda could see her lovely flowers. She knew they were jealous of her closeness to Eddie. He was a somebody and their children had married nobodies.

‘Joycie, this is Queenie, Vinny’s mum. Queenie, this is the wonderful woman who I will always class as my mother-in-law. We’re very close,’ Eddie grinned, winking at Joycie. Not many mothers would have forgiven him for the major mistake he had made and Ed would always be grateful to Joyce for reuniting the family in more ways than one. Little did she know it, but Joycie’s interference had actually saved his life. It was all her doing he and Joey were back on speaking terms in the first place.

The two women looked one another up and down, and neither particularly liked what they saw. Joycie thought Queenie was extremely hard-faced and nobody of her age should be wearing a skirt slightly above the knee. As for Queenie, she thought Joyce was an ugly old cow. Her teeth were far too big for her mouth, her nose slightly hooked and that bouffant hairstyle had gone out with the ark.

Queenie smiled falsely. ‘Nice to meet you, Joycie.’

‘Likewise, Queenie. Would you like me to give you a tour of the house and grounds?’ Joyce asked, in her poshest voice.

‘No, thank you. I have just lost my sister, so not an awful lot impresses me at the moment.’

Eddie and Vinny shared an awkward glance. This certainly wasn’t going to plan.

Georgie and Harry O’Hara were bored, miserable and felt like fishes out of water. They’d sneaked upstairs earlier and tried the number Georgie had thought was Ryan’s, but some silly old lady had answered.

‘All right? Shit party, ain’t it?’ Calum Butler voiced, plonking himself on the grass next to Georgie and Harry.

Harry eyed the boy suspiciously. ‘Who are you?’

‘Big Vinny is my granddad and Little Vinny’s my old man. Are you Eddie Mitchell’s grandkids? I heard you were gypsies.’

Georgie O’Hara glared at the boy. ‘So what if we are?’

Fourteen-year-old Calum smiled. He’d fancied Georgie the moment he’d laid eyes on her. She had dark hair and green eyes like he had, and she had big knockers and a very pretty face. ‘Wait ’ere and I’ll steal some booze. I won’t be a tick.’

Loving nothing more than bragging and showing off her wealth to her old neighbours, Joyce dragged Hilda and Rita upstairs to view her newly acquired bedroom furniture. ‘Look at the quality of the pine,’ Joyce urged, stroking the chest of drawers as one would a tiny puppy.

Hilda and Rita pretended to be interested, then nudged one another, raising their eyebrows as soon as Joyce turned her back. Joyce had always thought she was the bee’s knees when she’d lived a spit’s throw away from them in Upney, and since moving up in the world had become ten times worse.

About to start gushing about her new en suite, Joyce was stopped in her tracks by an out-of-breath Stanley. ‘Get your backside downstairs now, Joycie. One of your Butler guests has just knocked Jock in the swimming pool – on purpose. Never will I invite my friends round here again. This is all your fault, you senile old bat.’

The sight of Stanley’s best mate spluttering and mumbling obscenities while fully clothed in her swimming pool appealed to Joyce’s warped sense of humour. She tried to keep a straight face, but when she locked eyes with Queenie, who was laughing like a hyena, Joyce did the same.

Arriving amidst the drama, Joey Mitchell was none too surprised to learn that his nephew was at the centre of it. He had done his utmost to bond with Harry, but the child was bloody hard work and so was Georgie.

‘Where’s Dom?’ Eddie asked his son.

‘He’s not coming. We had words earlier, you know how it is. He’s on my case constantly to go back to work and I just don’t feel ready. To be honest, I don’t know if I want to go back to my old job at all. It’s too stressful and I don’t think I could cope with it now.’

Eddie felt guilty. Joey had been earning bloody good money at the Stock Exchange before that fateful night with the O’Haras. An unlikely hero, Joey had never returned to work since.

‘Where’s Frankie?’ Joey asked. He and his twin were extremely close, but looked nothing alike. Frankie had his dad’s dark skin, hair and features, whereas Joey was fair-skinned and blond like his mum had been.

‘I think she’s gone round the side of the gaff to give the devil’s spawn a talking to.’ As Joey made to set off in search of his sister, Eddie laid a hand on his arm. ‘There’s something you need to know: I had to tell her Jed and Jimmy were brown bread.’

‘You what! You said you wasn’t going to tell her. You didn’t let her know—’

Eddie interrupted his son. ‘Of course not. What happened that night stays between those present. Nobody else will ever find out, so don’t panic. As far as Frankie knows, none of us were there when the deed was done, me included. But I had to tell her something, son. She was out of her mind with worry that Jed would come back and snatch the kids. Stuart said she hasn’t been sleeping properly for weeks. Well, it’s done and dusted now, but she was interrogating me about you. Reckons you must have witnessed something because you’ve changed since that day. If she starts questioning you, tell her she’s talking bollocks. Make something up about you and Dom if you have to, eh?’ Eddie had been mortified when he’d first learned his son was gay and in a relationship with Dominic. Time was a healer though and even though he still wished Joey was straight, he’d managed to finally accept the situation.

‘I’ll tell Frankie me and Dom are on the rocks and that’s the reason I’ve not been myself lately. It’s partly true anyway. He knows something went on that evening and I can never tell him the truth, can I? He would disown me.’

‘You saved your family’s bacon, boy. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed. But no, the less people that know what really happened, the better. Listen, how d’ya fancy being mine and Vinny’s assistant manager at the casino when it opens? Keeping your mind occupied might do you good, and if you don’t like it you can always go back to the Stock Exchange at a later date.’

Joey toyed with the idea. The thought of working in the City again filled him with dread, and he couldn’t be unemployed as he and Dom had a mortgage to pay. He was on the sick, his father had sent him to a bent doctor who had lied and informed his employers he’d had a nervous breakdown.

‘I’ll pay you good dosh,’ Eddie promised.

Joey held out his right hand. ‘You got yourself a deal, Dad.’

Having never met before, Sammi-Lou Butler and Frankie Mitchell were getting along famously. Frankie had few friends these days, and it was good to speak to another mother whose children were problematical.

‘It’s awful having to keep Georgie and Harry under lock and key. But I’m at my wits’ end and have no other option. Would you do the same, if you were in my position?’

Sammi squeezed Frankie’s arm. ‘Probably. I can’t begin to imagine the heartache you went through when their dad took them away. All those wasted years when you could have been watching them grow up. But you’ve got them back now and that’s all that matters. Things will improve, but it’s bound to take time.’

Frankie looked towards her children and smiled at her new-found friend. ‘They seem to be getting on well with your Calum, so that’s a start. They’ve had no interaction with other kids since they came home. It’s a relief to know they can mix, to be honest.’

‘I have an idea. Why don’t you bring the children over to ours for the day so they can hang out with Ollie and Calum? We have a big garden and while the weather’s still nice, we can have a barbecue.’

‘That would be lovely. Our men seem to be getting on like a house on fire too, so I’m sure Stuart will be up for it. But please be forewarned, Georgie and Harry can be awfully behaved at times. They swear like sailors and I’d hate you to think badly of me and Stuart. It’s the way they were dragged up in the travelling community.’

‘Mine weren’t dragged up and they’re no better. Oliver is an angel compared to Calum and Regan. Little bastards they are. I seriously don’t know where me and Vin went wrong. We’re decent parents, I know we are. Worst moment of my life was when they sent Regan away. I miss him so bloody much, even though he drives me insane.’

Frankie offered words of comfort to Sammi before asking, ‘When would you like us to come over then?’

‘How about tomorrow? Shame to waste this nice weather, and we have nothing planned.’

‘Brilliant. OK, tomorrow it is.’

Having been raised by travellers, Georgie O’Hara was far more savvy than most children her age. ‘Go and nick some more booze and we’ll meet you round the side of the house. Hide it behind those plant pots again,’ Georgie ordered Calum, before dragging her brother away.

‘You fancy him, don’t ya? I saw the way you were looking at him,’ Harry said accusingly.

Had she not promised to marry Ryan one day, Georgie might have fancied Calum. He was a bit wild, a bad boy, which was her type, but she had other plans for him. ‘Of course I don’t fancy Calum, you dinlo. I’m just playing him to get us out of the house. He could be our perfect opportunity to escape.’

‘How? Frankie don’t let us out of her sight, the slag.’

‘She will if she thinks we can be trusted, Harry.’

Vinny Butler handed Eddie a cigar. Neither smoked cigarettes any more, but liked the odd cigar on special occasions.

‘I wonder if we’ve got any more nasty surprises in the post today? Got a feeling I know who sent the last one,’ Eddie announced, before telling Vinny the story about the rats, Jimmy O’Hara and what Harry had told him.

‘But Jimmy ain’t about no more, is he?’ Vinny enquired. Eddie had ended up with a broken arm, leg, and ribs after his confrontation with the O’Haras. Ed had told Vinny the feud had been sorted at the time, and Vinny hadn’t wanted to pry too much.

‘Jimmy’s out the picture and so is Jed, but they have other relations. Breed like flies, those bastards, don’t they?’

‘Yeah, but we can handle ourselves, mate. We’ll have plenty of back-up at the casino an’ all. I’ve hired new doormen at my club, so Pete and Paul can run the door, and you’re bringing muscle in an’ all. The pikeys are no threat to us.’

‘You’re right. We’ll have enough brawn to deal with any chancer. Ray, Tel, Gary and Stuart are no mugs either,’ Eddie replied, referring to his own firm. ‘Is Carl gonna still be working at the Holborn club?’

Vinny nodded. ‘Carl and Ava will run Holborn for me. Not long now, me old mucker, and we’ll be greeting our first punters. The Butlers and Mitchells unite, eh?’

Eddie dotted out his cigar. ‘That’s if Joycie and your mother ain’t murdered one another. Come on, let’s go see the damage.’

After initially hating one another on sight, Joyce and Queenie bonded over Jock nearly drowning, and now decided they did rather like one another after all. Both were strong characters, with similar views on family and life in general.

‘So, was your son Raymond here today?’ Queenie asked Joyce.

‘Nope. He’s abroad. Married a posh tart, Raymond did, and you can bet your bottom dollar that it was she who booked the holiday so they wouldn’t have to come to my party. As for their daughter, that’s an absolute replica of its mother. Want, want, want, it is. Spoilt as arseholes.’

Queenie smiled. ‘I’ve got a grandchild like that an’ all. My Michael’s youngest, Ellie. I can’t take to her. Don’t like her mother either. Trapped my Michael, did Katy. Gold-digging whore.’

With all the guests now gone, Vinny poked his head around the door. ‘You OK, Mum? Let me know when you want to make a move.’

‘I’m OK, love. You can top mine and Joycie’s drinks up, though, if you want to make yourself useful.’

‘Bring us in a bottle of Baileys. Do you like Baileys, Queenie?’ Joyce asked.

‘My favourite. Where’s your husband? Has he gone to bed?’ Queenie enquired.

‘Stanley’ll be out in the shed, playing with his cock,’ Joyce chuckled.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘The old goat keeps pigeons. Spends hours in that shed, he does. Suits me. I don’t have to look at him. Left me once for another woman, he did. Right old trollop she was. I mean, who’d look at Stanley twice? Bald-headed, short old bastard.’

Queenie laughed out loud. Today was the first time she’d properly laughed since Vivian had died. Joycie sounded just like her and Viv. She was certainly a ‘Say it as it is’ type.

Vinny did the honours by pouring the Baileys, then walked into the kitchen shaking his head. ‘Women, eh? Getting on like they’ve known one another all their lives. I’ll never understand the female species.’

Eddie raised his eyebrows. ‘Me neither. I’m thankful there won’t be any bloodshed though.’

As Vinny and Eddie carried on chatting, neither had a clue that plenty of blood would soon be shed. In the most atrocious way imaginable.

CHAPTER FOUR

Michael and Vinny Butler met in a café near their mother’s bungalow. The Old Bill had got in touch this morning and were now ready to release their darling aunt’s body.

‘Where you been staying?’ Vinny asked his brother. Like himself, Michael was looked up to and respected. He was also classed as a big underworld figure, although it was common knowledge Vinny ruled the roost. The name Butler tended to put the fear of God into people with bloody good reason. Many a man had his life ended prematurely after falling foul of Vinny especially.

‘I stayed at Bella’s again last night, but your son has some serious issues and I can’t be doing with ’em,’ Michael snapped.

In 1980, Vinny had indulged in a one-night stand with a woman he had met in a nightclub up town. It only came to light many years later that the woman in question was Bella, who was now Michael’s girlfriend. Vinny then learned he’d fathered her son. This had caused ructions between the brothers, and he and Michael had only been on speaking terms again since the brutal attack on their aunt. ‘Antonio needs to man up and fend for himself. Leave it with me. He’s nineteen, not fucking nine. It’s about time he got a job and moved out.’

‘He hates me being on the scene again. Just acts like a spoilt brat, banging and crashing about, spewing insults. Makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing. If Katy finds out, there’ll be murders,’ Michael said miserably. He had a son and daughter with Katy and spent a couple of days a week with them in Tunbridge Wells. In Katy’s eyes, they were still a couple, but Michael only visited to see his kids. Occasionally he’d still sleep with her out of duty, and to stop her moaning. Anything for a quiet life.

‘Don’t let Antonio rule your life. You and Bella are made for one another. Have you told Mum you’re giving it another go with her?’

‘Not yet. Mum’s got enough to deal with at the moment. I’ll tell her after the funeral. Better coming from me than she hears it through the grapevine. I also need to tell her Daniel and Lee are living abroad. I popped round to see Lee’s old woman yesterday. In bloody bits, she is. Says she can’t afford the mortgage. I bunged her a couple of grand, but I ain’t offering to pay no mortgage. Not like her and Lee have kids, is it?’

‘Beth ain’t your problem, bruv. I’d stay well out of it, if I were you. Any more news on Roxanne’s whereabouts?’

‘Nope. Probably still up the spout with her own brother’s child. Jesus wept! What a fucked-up family we are. That Jeremy Springer geezer would have a field day with us.’

Little Vinny put the meat in the fridge, then turned to his wife. ‘Ollie wants to go round his mate’s. He wasn’t overly keen on Georgie and Harry, reckons he’ll be bored.’

Sammi-Lou called her eldest son. Oliver had recently left school and was now at college. Calum and Regan were ringers for their father, but Oliver was like herself. He even had her slightly turned-up button nose. Handsome, polite and charming, Oliver had never caused her and Vinny any worry. He was a special lad with a good heart.

‘What’s up, Mum?’

‘Instead of going round your friend’s, can’t you invite a few of your pals around here?’

‘Georgie and Harry are kids, Mum. They’ll have far more in common with Calum than me and my mates. Anyway, I’m meant to be meeting a girl later.’

‘Oooh, tell me more. What’s her name? Where did you meet her?’ Sammi-Lou asked.

‘Her name’s Emma and she went to my school. I bumped into her recently and she looked … well different. She’s working in an office now.’

As his wife began to ask more questions, Little Vinny crept up behind her and put his hand over her mouth. ‘Let the boy get on his way. He’s on a promise, eh, Ollie?’

Oliver blushed. ‘Shut up, Dad.’

‘Yes, shut up, Vinny. That’s our baby you’re talking about. He doesn’t do things like that,’ Sammi-Lou laughed.

Grabbing Oliver in a playful headlock, Little Vinny messed his son’s perfectly styled hair up. ‘Look worse than this when your bird’s had her way with ya later,’ he goaded.

Sammi-Lou smiled broadly. She had a big house, three healthy, handsome boys, a wonderful husband and, apart from Regan being locked up, life truly could not be better.

‘One in a million, my sister, therefore I want the full works for her. Finest black horses in their full regalia and a stunning glass carriage,’ Queenie told the funeral director.

‘We also want three of my aunt’s favourite songs played. “Pal of My Cradle Days’, “Spanish Eyes” and “You Are My Sunshine”,’ Michael added.

Vinny felt his stomach churn at the mention of ‘You Are My Sunshine’. That had been the favourite song of his young daughter Molly, who’d been abducted back in 1980, then strangled and buried in a shallow grave. Twenty-one years on, her death still felt so raw at times. Not a day went by when Vinny did not think about her. She’d been such a little superstar, and so very beautiful.

‘I don’t want “Spanish Eyes”,’ Queenie informed her sons. ‘Doesn’t seem right, seeing as your father was crooning it as Viv took her last breath. I don’t want that old bastard at the funeral either.’

Michael looked at his mother in disbelief. In the last few years, Albie and Viv had grown very close, though they’d kept their relationship a closely guarded secret, knowing the trouble it would cause if Queenie ever found out. Vivian had regularly sneaked round to his father’s house in Barking, and Michael knew how fond of her his old man was. Albie would be distraught at not being allowed to say a goodbye. ‘Don’t start being silly now, Mum. Dad is coming to the funeral, end of.’

‘No he ain’t,’ Queenie spat viciously.

In Vinny’s eyes, his father was a loser, a tosser and a pisshead, so he waded in to defend his mother. ‘It’s gonna be a tough enough day for Mum as it is, bruv. We must respect her wishes.’

The funeral director jumped out of his skin when Michael leapt up and punched the wall of his parlour. ‘I’m telling you now, if you don’t allow me dad at the funeral, then I won’t be going either.’ Adding the words, ‘Fuck the pair of ya,’ Michael stormed out of the building.

‘I nicked us some booze and stashed it in my bedroom,’ Calum Butler informed Georgie and Harry.

Georgie grinned. ‘Let’s go to your room then. What we waiting for?’

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Frankie shouted out.

‘Calum’s got a computer and he’s gonna show us how to play games on it,’ Georgie replied shirtily.

‘I locked the front door from the inside, just in case,’ Sammi-Lou informed Frankie.

‘You got a phone up here I can use?’ Georgie asked Calum. She’d never had intercourse, that was a sin for a travelling girl before marriage, but she was alert sexually for her age and knew Calum fancied the pants off her. That’s why she had worn a low-cut top today. She enjoyed the attention her breasts drew from boys and planned to reel Calum in. In the travelling community, girls tended to dress and act flirtatious from a young age to potentially attract a future husband. Lots of girls Georgie knew had met their boyfriends at fourteen or fifteen, then married them as soon as they turned sixteen.

‘Who you ringing?’ Calum enquired.

‘Her boyfriend,’ Harry replied.

‘Take no notice of him. I ain’t got a boyfriend,’ Georgie said, glaring at her big-mouthed brother.

Juggling the numbers around, Georgie tried but failed again to connect to Ryan. ‘Gertcha you miserable old rabbit’s crotch,’ she screamed at a woman who had a go at her as she’d mistakenly rung her twice.

‘Rabbit’s crotch. That’s well funny,’ Calum chuckled.

‘You ain’t never gonna remember the number, so we need to resort to plan B,’ Harry sulked.

Having warned Harry not to mention plan B in front of Calum, Georgie glared at him again. ‘Who’s that in the photo?’ she asked. The lad standing with Calum reminded her of Ryan. He had the same shaped face and a similar smile.

‘That’s my brother, Regan. He’s banged up at the moment. Stabbed his teacher, he did.’

Harry and George were both suitably impressed. ‘Did he kill the teacher?’ Harry asked.

‘Nah,’ Calum responded, before bragging about many of his and Regan’s scrapes with the law.

Georgie giggled, while forming plan B in her head. She would use Calum to help them escape, then dump him like a bag of old rubbish. She and Harry didn’t belong in the gorger world. Being part of a close-knit travelling community was all they knew.

With her sons’ brotherly relationship only recently back on track, Queenie Butler decided to swallow her pride for once in favour of not upsetting the apple cart. She had been devastated all those years Vinny and Michael were estranged, and blamed Bella wholly for everything that had happened.

‘Let’s have a bit of lunch before we order the flowers, eh? Then I’ll show you how the casino is coming along. It’ll look amazing once it’s finished,’ Vinny said.

‘We’ve got to think of another song an’ all. I don’t mind your father being there, but “Spanish Eyes” is his party piece and I am not having that played for Viv,’ Queenie insisted.

Michael stared gloomily out of the window. If his mother ever found out his father regularly sung that song for Viv, or that she’d been visiting his dad in hospital on the night she was attacked, it would cause mayhem.

Having only had two true friends in his life, Little Vinny was thoroughly enjoying a bit of male bonding with Stuart. Apart from Sammi’s parents, he and his wife never socialized with other couples and it was nice to have made new friends.

‘Lovely bit of steak, Vin. And that potato salad is handsome,’ Stuart said, grinning at Frankie. It was lovely to see her having a little tipple and looking so relaxed. Even the brats seemed to be behaving themselves for once.

Scoffing a chicken thigh, Georgie winked at her brother. ‘Mum, me and Harry want to go for a walk with Calum. We won’t go far, I swear.’

‘Nope. You’ll run off again,’ Frankie replied.

‘We won’t. We promise. You can’t keep us locked away for ever, it ain’t fair. How can we be happy if we can’t even go out?’ Harry piped up.

Stuart put his hand on Frankie’s knee. ‘He has got a point, babe. It’s not very fair on ’em.’

Frankie could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. ‘But say they don’t come back?’

‘I’ll look after Georgie and Harry,’ Calum piped up.

Harry glared at Calum. He wasn’t much older than him, the dickhead.

‘Of course we’re coming back. We ain’t got no money, so where we meant to go?’ Georgie stated.

Looking at Frankie for approval, Stuart turned to the children. ‘We’ll start trusting you on one condition.’

‘What?’ Harry asked.

‘That you be nice to Brett in future. And don’t lie and say you are nice to him, because I’ve seen you do stuff with my own eyes. Have we got a deal?’

Georgie and Harry reluctantly nodded.

‘One hour you can go out for and if you’re not back, I’m calling the police,’ Frankie warned. Her stomach was in knots, but what could she do? She was sick of living in a virtual prison, and Georgie and Harry needed to start mixing with other kids at some stage. Apart from Harry pushing Jock in the swimming pool, they’d behaved themselves impeccably yesterday and today.

‘Just going to the toilet,’ Calum said.

‘Are we coming back?’ Harry whispered to Georgie.

‘Of course, you dinlo. And we’re gonna keep coming back until Mum really trusts us and allows us to go out for a whole day – that’s when we’ll escape for good. And Calum is gonna help us.’

‘Is he?’

‘Shush. He don’t know it yet. But yes, he will. I’ll make damn bloody sure of it.’

The hand-delivered package was lying on the doorstep of the casino.

‘You expecting a parcel, love?’ Queenie asked her son.

The handwriting on the label was the same as the previous package. Capital letters in thick marker pen. ‘Go inside and have a gander. Eddie was expecting a delivery,’ Vinny lied. He knew what a worry-pot his mother could be, and didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of her.

Vinny gingerly lifted the lid off the box. The smell was horrific and so was the sight of the dead snake with its head chopped off. Vinny stared at the verse.

DEUTERONOMY 32:35

VENGEANCE IS MINE, AND RETRIBUTION.

IN DUE TIME THEIR FOOT WILL SLIP;

FOR THE DAY OF THEIR CALAMITY IS NEAR AND THE IMPENDING THINGS ARE HASTENING UPON THEM.

‘Jesus wept,’ Vinny mumbled, glancing around to check nobody was watching him. No way was this the work of gypsies. Most couldn’t read, let alone spell. This was the work of some serious nutjob. But who? And why?

The hour it took Georgie and Harry to return seemed like ten to Frankie Mitchell. She’d cursed her decision to allow them out, and cried at the thought of them not returning.

‘I told you they’d come back, didn’t I?’ Sammi-Lou beamed.

‘Get off me. What ya doing?’ Harry complained, as his mother tried to hug him. Didn’t the stupid bitch realize he loathed her?

Knowing she and Harry were finally getting somewhere, Georgie smiled sweetly and shared the first proper hug with her mum since she’d arrived home.

‘We’re going back upstairs now to play on the computer,’ Calum said.

Georgie lay on Calum’s bed and stretched out so he could see her belly button. She knew she had a good body, which was another reason she liked to flaunt it. ‘Harry, go back downstairs and grab us a bottle of Coke. Get some crisps as well.’

‘Can’t you go?’ Harry mumbled, staring at Calum’s computer as it burst into life. He had never seen anything so weird, yet fascinating. No travellers he knew owned a computer. Neither did they have Sky TV with all those stupid channels. The life of a gorger was a whole new world to Harry and he couldn’t get his head around the way they lived.

‘No. You go. Go on,’ Georgie urged in a raised voice.

As soon as Harry left the room, Georgie sat up and put her hand on Calum’s knee. ‘Thanks so much for helping me and Harry today. Do you think you could invite us around again soon so we can all go out together? My mum trusts you.’

Feeling Georgie’s hand move towards his thigh, Calum Butler thought he had died and gone to heaven. ‘’Course I will. I’ll invite you round loads.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Queenie Butler stared dismally out of the window. The weather had taken a turn for the worse this past week or so, and today it was teeming with rain. There was nothing sadder than watching a coffin being lowered into the ground in such weather, but God had rarely been kind to her family over the past few decades, Queenie thought bitterly.

It was the 1970s when the Butler curse had originally struck. Roy, Queenie’s middle son, was the first on God’s hit list. He’d been shot, paralysed, and left wheelchair-bound. Roy had hated his life from that moment onwards, which was why he’d ended up killing himself. Then there had been the car crash that had wiped out the life of Vivian’s son, Lenny. Vivvy had never forgiven Vinny for driving home inebriated, but what had happened was no more than a tragic accident. Vinny had adored his younger cousin. Lenny was ‘special needs’, and Vinny would’ve never intentionally put his life at risk.

‘You OK, Mum?’ Vinny asked, putting his strong arms around the woman he adored so much. She was tiny in comparison to him, but what she lacked in height she made up for in strength.

‘Why is life so unfair, boy? Roy, Lenny, Molly, Adam, Brenda and now Vivvy, all taken before their time. I don’t know any other family that’s suffered such bad bastard luck as us. It’s a cruel world, it really is.’

Picturing his Auntie Viv’s face, Vinny felt incredibly sad. Vivian had been attacked in Whitechapel High Road by a gang of mixed-race hoodies. They had punched her and she had hit her head against the kerb. She’d never woken up, had been in a coma until she passed away. ‘Those lads will pay for what they did, Mum. I will be waiting at the prison gates for ’em, and will personally gouge their eyes out and chop their fucking hands off. You can rest assured of that.’

‘When can we see Calum again, Mum?’ Georgie O’Hara asked. It was so boring being stuck at home all day. She and Harry hated it. Travellers had outdoor spirits.

‘Soon. I’ll call Calum’s mum later.’

‘Can’t you call her now?’ Harry asked.

‘Sammi’s got a family funeral today, so I won’t be able to get hold of her at present.’

‘I suppose I’d better make tracks meself. I hope your dad don’t wanna stay at the wake for hours on end. I’ll be bored shitless if I’m not drinking,’ Stuart said, kissing Frankie goodbye. He’d never met Vivian Harris, but Eddie thought it respectful they attend and show moral support for Vinny.

‘I think we’ll have a takeaway tonight. Try not to be too late,’ Frankie said.

Little did Frankie know as she waved her doting fiancé goodbye that Stuart would not be returning home, ever.

Little Vinny straightened his eldest son’s tie. ‘Auntie Viv’ll come back and haunt you if you wear that wonky,’ he said, trying to make light on such a horrid day. Auntie Viv had always been a permanent fixture in his nan’s house, had only really used her own place to sleep in.

‘There’s lots of people outside the house, Dad,’ Oliver commented.

‘Auntie Viv lived in Whitechapel all her life, boy. Last of a dying breed. You can guarantee a lot of people who’ve moved away will turn up today to pay their respects. It used to be a close-knit community round ’ere. Well loved and respected, Auntie Viv was,’ Little Vinny explained. His sons’ only memories of Whitechapel were the shithole it now was and he liked them to know their roots. When he was growing up the community spirit in the East End was awesome.

Thinking how grown-up and dapper her sons looked in their smart black suits, Sammi-Lou linked arms with her husband. Obviously she had no inkling of what the day had in store for her. If she had, she’d have run a mile.

‘He’s not getting in the first car. Let him go in the second,’ Queenie informed Michael, glaring at her ex-husband.

Feeling desolate, Albie Butler averted his eyes. He might have been a drinker and a womanizer back in the day, but Queenie had never really wanted him. He knew in his heart he’d married the wrong sister. Due to their age, his and Vivvy’s relationship had been purely platonic, but there’d been a lot of love and laughter. That was something he’d never had with Queenie. She’d been all for their sons, Vinny especially, and Albie knew without a doubt that it was she who’d turned them into notorious underworld figures.

Michael Butler led his father away. The poor old sod was eighty now, and had been so upset when Michael picked him up earlier. ‘Take no notice, eh? You know what Mum’s like. Her bark is worse than her bite.’

‘No, it isn’t. Her bite is far worse than her bark, son. Like a pit bull.’

As the striking black horses took Vivian Harris on her final journey, the sun made an appearance through the clouds.

Lots of old neighbours who’d moved away to areas such as Kent and Essex returned to pay their respects, and the church was soon full to the brim. The vicar Queenie and Viv had known since childhood had recently suffered a stroke, so Queenie had appointed the young Reverend Johnson to conduct the service. He was a local chap, and both she and Viv had known his mother for years.

Flanked either side of their mother, Vinny and Michael Butler looked a formidable force. Both wore their thick black hair Brylcreemed, Vinny’s combed back and Michael’s parted and smoothed to the side. Their expensive suits, shoes and Crombie coats were part of their image. Neither would dream of being seen out in anything less than a top-of-the-range suit. ‘You need to look the part if you want others to respect you,’ their mother had told them from an early age.

Queenie fought desperately not to crumble as the vicar gave a glowing eulogy. He described Vivian as a vivacious, humorous, good-natured pillar of the community who would do anything to help the less fortunate. The last part wasn’t exactly true, but his words were lovely nevertheless.

‘Morning Has Broken’, Vivian’s favourite hymn, was played, then Michael stood up and gave a heartfelt tribute to his aunt. Vinny had wanted to give a eulogy, but Queenie decided to honour her sister’s wishes. ‘If I croak it before you, don’t you dare let that murdering bastard of a son of yours speak at my funeral. Disobey my wishes and I swear I will come back and haunt you,’ Viv had insisted.

Sitting in the front row next to his father, Little Vinny felt his body stiffen and the colour drain from his face. ‘You Are My Sunshine’ was the song that had been played at Molly’s funeral, and as an image of what he’d done to her flashed through his mind, he felt the bile rise to the back of his throat. Her eyes were bulging with sheer terror and the look of confusion on her face as he’d pressed against her windpipe would haunt him for ever. He was so sorry, but nothing would bring Molly back. He had to live with what he’d done.

‘You OK?’ Vinny asked. Little Vinny put his hand over his mouth and ran from the church as rapidly as his shaking legs would allow.

Annoyed by his son’s departure, Vinny squeezed his mother’s hand. ‘You sure you want to speak? I can say something on your behalf if you like?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Queenie answered, somehow maintaining a stiff upper lip. She walked up the front and turned to face the mourners. ‘My Vivvy. Where do I start? She was an angel, she really was. The best sister I could have wished for. She was kind, loving, funny, charming and so loyal. She always had my back. As kids we would play along the Waste for hours on end. Hopscotch was our favourite pastime. Then as adults we’d get dolled up and spend our Saturdays mooching along Roman Road market. So many happy memories of the good old days, that’s all I’m left with now.’

Pausing to blow her nose, Queenie bravely continued. ‘I never used to believe in life after death, but that’s the only thing I can hold on to now. I’ve got to make myself visualize Vivvy in heaven with her Lenny and cling on to the hope that one day we will be reunited. I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the mornings otherwise. My heart is broken – beyond repair, to be honest. But my Viv was a tough old cookie and she’d want and expect me to carry on with my life. It’s so difficult, though, as she was such a big part of it and I feel like I’ve lost my right arm, I really do. We were inseparable, as most of you know, and some days I kind of forget she’s not here and pick up the phone to call her. Like the other day, for instance, when the news broke that a bloke had been found dead floating on top of Michael Barrymore’s swimming pool. Loved Barrymore, Vivvy did. Me and her used to roll up at My Kind of People. We’d take the mickey out of all the notrights on there.’

Dabbing her eyes, Queenie’s expression turned vicious. ‘A natural death I could’ve coped with better, but not this. Scum, they are, the ones who did this to my Vivvy, and I hope they rot in bastard hell. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Cunts, that’s what they are, who did this to her. Wicked, despicable cunts.’

In shock that the C word had been used not once but twice in the house of God, the vicar quickly took over. ‘Let us pray,’ his voice boomed.

The service ended with Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’, and there was barely a dry eye in the house. Albie Butler was a broken man, shoulders hunched, sobbing into his handkerchief. Ava, Vinny’s daughter, was in pieces. Queenie’s obvious pain could probably be heard as far away as the Mile End Road, and even Vinny and Michael had tears rolling down their faces.

Vinny put an arm around Michael’s shoulders. ‘Come on, we’ll have a cigar and look at the flowers. We’ve done Auntie Viv proud, eh?’

Michael nodded. Some of the floral tributes had been spectacular. He and Vinny had a beautiful white angel made with AUNTIE VIV spelled out in pink roses. The neighbours had all chipped in to buy a big LADY OF THE MANOR display and the Frasers had sent a beauty that simply said LEGEND, which was very apt. Vivian Harris had received the kind of send-off a legend like herself truly deserved.

Little Vinny was crouched around the back of the church, head in hands. How he could have done such a detestable thing to his own flesh and blood he did not know. But he had, and he’d had to live with it ever since.

Growing up, Little Vinny had issues. His mum had died when he was very young and his dad was too busy running the club to take proper care of him, so he’d ended up living with his nan. At school he wasn’t popular, and his only real pal was another loner, Ben Bloggs. Little Vinny would call the shots and Ben would dance to his tune. It was when they got into the skinhead scene that Little Vinny’s behaviour went from bad to worse. He was a lost soul back then and had a ruthless, evil streak. Sniffing glue, getting drunk and smoking cannabis became the norm to him, and he was paranoid and eaten up with jealousy that his father doted on his little sister. So he’d planned three-year-old Molly’s abduction, enlisting Ben’s help, and then callously strangled her – dumping the body in a shallow grave near Hackney Marshes.

‘There you are! Are you OK? You’re shaking. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you find the service too upsetting?’ Sammi-Lou asked, her kind face full of concern.

Panic attack in full flow, Little Vinny took deep breaths like the doctor had once told him to, and nodded his head. What else could he do? Admit that he’d murdered his beautiful little sister and the police had locked up the wrong person?

The sun continued to shine for the actual burial, then the rain lashed down again.

‘Gawd stone the crows! That has to be a sign from Vivvy, boys. She wants us to know she’s OK. I mean, come on, it’s not stopped raining this week, has it? Not up until the hearse arrived.’

Vinny and Michael glanced at one another. Neither were big believers in the afterlife, but they agreed with their mother, offering words of comfort. If it made their mum feel better to think that Viv had the power to change the bloody weather, then so be it.

‘The caterers have done us proud. I belled Nick when I popped to the loo, and he reckons they’ve laid on a feast fit for a king. The seafood display is the bollocks, by all accounts,’ Vinny said.

Relieved that the funeral was over, Queenie managed a smile. ‘Loved her seafood, did Vivvy. She’d eat winkles like they were going out of style, bless her.’

Wanting to laugh at his mother’s innocent turn of phrase, Michael instead put his arm around her. ‘Ted’s gonna sing all of Auntie Viv’s favourite songs. I’ve given him a list, and I’ll put money on it she’s looking down singing along with us all, sweetheart.’

‘I’ll second that. Gonna be the best wake ever. One that people will still talk about in years to come,’ Vinny insisted.

Little did Vinny know at that point that the wake would turn out to be the worst in living history. It would be spoken about for many years to come, mind. But for all the wrong reasons.

CHAPTER SIX

Vivian’s wake was held at a restaurant in Stratford that Vinny part-owned. His pal Nick ran the gaff and had rearranged the furniture to accommodate the many mourners.

‘Ted’s not singing until later. I thought it best that people have a chat and something to eat first. I’ve given him a list of songs that Auntie Viv liked,’ Vinny informed his mother.

‘I love that photo of Vivvy. Who got it blown up? She looks so beautiful and radiant, doesn’t she?’ The huge framed photo on the wall had been taken in Queenie’s back garden a couple of years ago.

‘Michael sorted it. He said you’re to take it home with you later. Her smile lights up this joint, eh? I’d put money on it she’s here with us in spirit. I can sort of feel her presence, can’t you?’ Vinny said kindly. He knew it was what his mum wanted to hear.

Queenie nodded, then received a hug from the handsome Eddie Mitchell. Vivvy would be thrilled he’d attended her funeral. She’d always had the hots for Eddie.

‘A lovely send-off for a lovely lady, Queenie,’ Eddie gushed.

‘Thanks, Eddie. How’s Joycie?’

‘You’ve got yourself a fan there. Not stopped raving about you since her party. She tells me you’re going shopping together soon.’

‘Yes. We’re going to Lakeside. I’ll give her a bell tomorrow. I couldn’t concentrate on shopping beforehand, not with the funeral looming over me. Will cheer me up no end to see Joycie again.’

‘Great stuff. Joycie’s a one-off, like yourself, Queenie. What you see is what you get with her. Be good for you both to pal up and get out and about a bit. Stanley drives her doolally indoors.’

Spotting a white feather stuck to her shoe, Queenie grabbed Vinny’s arm. ‘Look! Another sign.’ Viv had always believed in the myth surrounding white feathers.

What neither Queenie nor Vinny realized was there was one almighty sign heading their way, and it was by no means pleasant.

Mehmet Malas studied the photograph of Vinny Butler. It had been taken many years ago, but Vinny was very distinctive looking and shouldn’t be too hard to pick out of a crowd. ‘How long till we arrive?’ he asked his brother.

‘About thirty minutes. No hanging around. Straight in, do the business, then we leave immediately.’

The Turks continued their journey in silence. All three had been good pals with Ahmed and Burak Zane and it was obvious what had happened to them. Vinny Butler had had it coming to him for a long while, and now he was finally going to get it. If you live by the sword, expect to die by it.

‘Slow down a bit, Vin. You haven’t half been knocking them back,’ Sammi-Lou advised her husband. Little Vinny didn’t usually touch alcohol and wasn’t the best drinker in the world on the odd occasion he did.

‘Don’t nag me, babe. I need a drink today. Spent a lot of time with Auntie Viv when I was young. I miss her,’ he replied. The real reason he was knocking them back was to recover from the trauma he’d suffered at the church, but he could hardly admit that to Sammi-Lou.

‘I think I’ll make a move with the boys if you’re going to get plastered. You can get a cab home later.’

‘Stay ’ere and chill. The music’s starting now.’

Teddy Chapman was a legend on the East End pub and club circuit. He’d once worked at Vinny and Michael’s old haunt in Whitechapel, and kicked his set off with Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.

‘Vivvy loved this song, boy. She would’ve much preferred this played inside the church than Vera bloody Lynn. She didn’t even like Vera,’ Albie informed his son, before knocking back another straight brandy. He’d been drinking like a fish again since Viv had died.

Michael put an arm around his father’s slumped shoulders. ‘I’ve told Ted you’ll be singing “Spanish Eyes” later. It’s what Auntie Viv would’ve wanted, so bollocks to Mum and Vinny. They start kicking off, they’ll have me to deal with.’

Tears in his eyes, Albie managed a weak smile. ‘Thanks, boy. Means the world to me, and I know it would’ve meant the same to Viv.’

Psyching himself up, Mehmet Malas ran his fingers gently along the barrel of the machine gun. He’d been sentenced to a hefty stretch inside for supplying a large quantity of heroin around the time Ahmed and Burak had disappeared, hence his delay in getting revenge for his dear friends. ‘Brothers’, he liked to refer to his compatriots as. Ahmed and Burak were the real deal, had always been there for him and his family.

Deniz was driving and had been instructed to wait outside the restaurant with the van’s engine running. ‘We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,’ he informed Mehmet and Hassan.

The two men glanced at one another, then smiled. ‘Allahu Akbar,’ Mehmet mumbled. He was a big believer, and knew Allah would be on their side.

‘I’ve got something to tell you, Nan. Dad said I wasn’t to say anything until after the funeral, but I’ve finally got myself a job. I’m manageress of Dad’s Holborn club, and will take care of the business for him when he opens the casino,’ Ava informed her grandmother.

Queenie Butler looked at her granddaughter in astonishment. Ava was twenty now and Queenie had virtually brought the child up after her mother died. She was a stunner, with long black hair, and piercing green eyes like her father. Unfortunately, she also took after her father in being a law unto herself and full of surprises. ‘You can’t work there. It’s a knocking shop! No way is that a place for a young lady like yourself to work. It’s absurd! Disgusted with your father, I am!’

Ava hadn’t been herself lately. She’d been very close to her cousin Daniel and had formed a bond with Roxanne, so it had knocked her for six to find out they were related. She’d also been upset that neither had contacted her since their doomed wedding. On top of that, Auntie Viv’s death had been terribly upsetting. But now the funeral was over, Ava was determined to move on with her life and enjoy every second. ‘We’re not in the sixties now, Nan. It’s the twentieth century, and I assure you I can handle a few strippers. It’s the family business, remember? Puts food on all of our tables, yours especially.’

When his father started to sing, Vinny stormed out the back rather than take his anger out on his brother. Eddie Mitchell followed his new business partner. ‘What’s up, pal?’

‘Just this fucking song. It’s the old man’s party piece. He was singing this to Viv when she croaked it, so the nurses reckon. Bound to upset my mum. I don’t wanna kick off, though, as it’s obvious Michael’s given Ted the nod for the old bastard to ruin Al Martino’s street cred.’

Eddie chuckled. ‘Families, eh? Can’t live with ’em or without ’em. So, how’s it going with Fliss? Gina thought she was top drawer,’ Eddie said. Vinny had apologized profusely after they’d had words in the restaurant. He’d said he was drunk and sent Gina a beautiful bouquet. Eddie wasn’t one to hold grudges over something so trivial, so their flare-up was now forgotten. Unless Vinny stepped out of line in the future, of course.

Vinny smiled. Though no one would have suspected, he’d been celibate for years until Felicity had come on the scene. The reason being, he was a brutal bastard in the sack and had a habit of terrorizing women, especially prostitutes. He’d accidentally killed one bird and ended up having to set the body on fire to dispose of it. ‘It’s going quite well, Ed. She’s a cracker. Never thought a bird would reel me in again, but she seems to be doing just that. She’s ballsy, but not demanding. Very intelligent too.’

Eddie Mitchell was glad Vinny had finally found love. Rumours were rife in the underworld, and Eddie was not impressed by the way Vinny had treated prostitutes back in the day. In his eyes, those poor girls were only trying to earn a crust and did not deserve to be violated and treated brutally. ‘You told your family about her yet?’

‘Little Vinny met her briefly when he popped round unexpectedly yesterday. Other than that, the only one I’ve told is Michael. Too embarrassed to tell my mum or Ava, to be honest. It’s the age gap, ain’t it? Neither will be impressed. Ava had an inkling a while back and called me a nonce-case.’ Felicity was half Vinny’s age.

About to ask Vinny if he was going to move in with Felicity, Eddie was interrupted by his sidekick, Stuart. ‘I don’t know how long you’re planning on staying, Ed. But I’m gonna have to leave soon. Just had a phone call from Frankie – Harry is playing her up big time.’

‘Today isn’t about Harry or Frankie, Stu. We are here to remember and pay our respects to the lovely Vivian Harris. For once in her life, my daughter is going to have to cope without our help. Serves her right for stabbing me in the back and getting involved with the O’Haras in the first place, eh, lad?’

Stuart sighed. Eddie had been on the Scotch today and it had a tendency to make him argumentative and arrogant. Harry had apparently smashed to pieces the new computer he had paid a lot of money for only yesterday, and Frankie was incredibly upset about it. ‘OK. I’ll give it another hour or so. Tired, I am, to be honest though, Ed.’

‘Always remember, I call the shots, Stu. It ain’t the other way round, kiddo,’ Eddie cockily reminded his employee.

Aware of Vinny smirking, Stuart said no more and stormed back inside the restaurant.

Still reeling that her granddaughter would soon be running a club that was no more than a knocking shop, Queenie Butler had just received some more shocking news. ‘Abroad! What do you mean, they’re not coming home?’

‘I got a letter from Lee, but didn’t want to tell you until after the funeral,’ Michael explained. ‘It was only a short note, he just said that he was going abroad to start afresh with Daniel. Dan must have jumped on a plane soon after the wedding fiasco, I imagine.’

‘But what about Beth? Lee’s got responsibilities, and a mortgage. He can’t leave that poor girl in the lurch.’

‘Well, he has, Mum. Between me and you, since they found out Beth couldn’t have kids, the marriage was on the rocks anyway. Drove him up the wall, she did.’

‘So where the bloody hell are they living?’

Michael shrugged. ‘The letter didn’t say, but my guess would be Spain. They’re bound to be in touch again soon. Once the dust has settled.’

‘That’s not good enough, Michael. I love my grandsons and I’m certainly not getting any younger. I want you to find them and bring them back home where they belong. You can find Roxanne as well, while you’re at it. You might have chosen to forget that poor girl is your daughter, but I bloody well haven’t. She’s fifteen years old and all alone in this world. Poor little cow must be petrified, and for all we know she might still be carrying Daniel’s baby. Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? So best you get your head from up your arse and do something about it.’

Michael nodded dumbly. He’d been planning on dropping the Bella bombshell today as well, but the mood his mother was in, that would just have to wait.

Mehmet handed Hassan the rubber Bill Clinton face mask. His own was that of Colonel Gaddafi. Both men were broad, tall, dressed in black tracksuits and trainers, and looked terrifying enough without the masks on, let alone with them.

Mehmet and Hassan’s sister, Asli, was a professional make-up artist and she’d done a wonderful job of disguising Deniz, who was driving. She’d reinvented his face in such a way that he still looked human, but like a completely different man.

‘How far away are we?’ Hassan enquired.

‘Five minutes, if the traffic would move. We’re at a standstill. I hope there has not been an accident,’ Deniz replied.

Feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead, Hassan rubbed frantically at his mask. This was all going wrong. He could feel it in his bones.

Ava Butler tapped her father on the shoulder. ‘Nan’s got the right hump. She was none too happy when I told her about my job at the club, then Michael said something to upset her even more. They looked like they were arguing, Dad.’

Excusing himself to Eddie Mitchell, Vinny walked over to the food area. His mother was standing alone, eating a bowl of jellied eels. ‘This was one of Auntie Viv’s favourite songs, eh, Mum?’ he said jovially, referring to Teddy’s rendition of Jim Reeves’s ‘He’ll Have to Go’.

Spitting an eel bone into a piece of tissue, Queenie wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘Disgusted with you, I am – and your brother. What sort of fathers are you?’

Trying to shift the focus off himself, Vinny replied. ‘Told you he’s back with Bella then, I take it? I knew you wouldn’t be pleased. But Michael’s a grown man and if Bella makes him happy, so be it.’

Queenie looked at her eldest in astonishment. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! How could he? After everything that Italian whore has done to this family. Where is the silly bastard? I’ll give him “back with Bella”!’

‘He’s outside. I’ll go get him. Sorry, Mum. I thought he’d already told you.’

‘What’s up now?’ Eddie Mitchell asked, grabbing Vinny’s arm as he went to walk past him.

‘I’ve just put me foot in it that Michael’s seeing Bella again. Best he deals with it himself now. Let him pander to my mother’s wrath and we’ll get out the way. There’s a boozer nearby. She’s proper on the warpath, me mum.’

Eddie Mitchell smirked. ‘And I thought my mob were the most dysfunctional family ever to step out of the East End of London.’

Having battled through the traffic, the Turks finally arrived at their destination.

‘I cannot park outside. There are no spaces,’ Deniz informed his partners in crime, who were seated in the back of the van.

Urging Deniz to drive past the venue, then turn the van around, Mehmet leaned across to peep out the passenger’s side window. It was dark now, so he wouldn’t be spotted. ‘There’s a shop nearby with a space on the pavement. Reverse on to that and we’ll leap out there. Make sure nobody blocks you in though, OK?’

Feeling slightly nauseous, Hassan began mumbling a prayer in his native Turkish.

Standing with a few of her and Vivvy’s old neighbours, Queenie Butler was well and truly on her soapbox. Albie was singing another of Vivian’s favourite songs, this time Engelbert Humperdinck’s ‘Please Release Me’; annoyed by the attention he was getting, Queenie was doing her utmost to redress that by slagging off her absent grandchildren. ‘I can fully understand Camila not being here as she is appearing in an important West End musical at present, but Tommy and Tara should be bloody ashamed of themselves. Spent plenty of time with Vivvy when they were young. It’s rude and so bloody wrong, that’s what it is. Selfish they are, just like their mother was.’

Their mother was Queenie’s only daughter, Brenda, who’d been an alcoholic and an embarrassment to the family in more ways than one until her untimely death. In her heart, Queenie would always love Brenda and her kids, but it annoyed her greatly that Tara, who’d recently had a baby, had never bothered visiting her grandmother. She’d even posted a lovely present for the child and not received as much as a thank you card. Both Tara and Tommy lived in Leeds now and seemed to have forgotten their nan existed.

‘Were Daniel and Lee at the church, Queen? I didn’t see them,’ Mouthy Maureen enquired.

Big Stan discreetly nudged Maureen. Rumours had been rife about the fiasco that had occurred at Daniel and Roxanne’s wedding. The Butlers had of course denied they were brother and sister, saying it was all a terrible mix-up. But Queenie wasn’t in the best of moods and Stan didn’t want to rile her further.

Treating Mouthy Maureen to a look of pure hatred, Queenie was just about to tear into the trappy tart when she heard a kerfuffle going on behind her. People were screaming and Queenie thought a fight had broken out until she spotted a man in a Bill Clinton face mask waving a machine gun. ‘What the hell! Are they armed robbers? Where’s my Vinny?’ she shrieked.

‘Get down!’ Big Stan bellowed, grabbing hold of Queenie and Maureen and shoving them to the floor. His disabled wife had attended the funeral, but he’d taken her home before coming to the wake. As he crouched behind a table, he whispered a prayer. He was thankful that if the worst happened and he didn’t make it out of this, his wife would still be around to watch their grandkids grow up.

Teddy Chapman was too wrapped up crooning Tony Bennett’s ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco’ to realize exactly what was occurring, but at the sound of the first gunshot, he dropped his microphone and literally ran for his life.

‘Billy! My Billy’s been shot,’ a woman screamed.

Waving his gun in the air, Mehmet ran over to Hassan. ‘That’s not Vinny, you fucking fool,’ he spat. Billy, the guy who’d been shot, was Fat Brenda’s son. Though he bore a passing resemblance to Vinny, he was a lot shorter.

Hassan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he bellowed, ‘Where is Vinny Butler?’ He prodded his gun into the chest of a terrified woman. ‘Fucking answer me, otherwise this lady dies.’

When his mother screamed, Michael Butler instinctively darted towards her, positioning his body on top of hers to try to protect her. Placing his hand over her mouth, he whispered, ‘Shhhh.’ He could see his father hiding under a table, and knew Vinny had sloped off somewhere with Eddie.

‘Nan, Nan! Where are you?’ Ava cried. She was petrified, couldn’t believe what was happening.

Fearing for the life of the woman being held at gunpoint, Big Stan stood up and bravely wagged his finger at the lunatic in the mask. ‘You’ll rot in hell for this, you no good bastard.’ Seconds later, he was shot with such venom, the bullets seemed to push him backwards before he fell to the ground in a bloodied, crumpled heap.

‘Not Stan. Noooo,’ a voice shrieked.

People were sobbing and screaming. Some fled in terror; others stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move through sheer fright. The masked men had only been in the restaurant for a matter of sixty seconds, but for the terrified mourners it felt like sixty minutes.

‘Someone has to do something,’ Little Vinny spat.

‘No, Vin. Stay here,’ Sammi-Lou pleaded.

Ignoring his wife’s sound advice, Little Vinny crept towards the figure wearing the Colonel Gaddafi mask. The bloke had his back to the table Little Vinny had been sitting at.

Desperate to stop her husband from doing something daft, Sammi-Lou leapt out of her chair.

‘Don’t, Mum. Come back,’ shrieked the terrified Oliver Butler.

Little Vinny lunged at the guy and all hell seemed to break loose.

Mehmet fired a shot at the ceiling. ‘You tell Vinny Butler we’ll be back for him. This is for our brothers Ahmed and Burak,’ he shouted, before spraying the room with random gunfire.

Calum Butler screamed as he was splattered by a huge amount of blood. ‘Ollie, Ollie,’ he wept helplessly. He immediately knew his brother was dead; his face was all but obliterated by the bullet. He didn’t even look like Oliver any more.

Instinct told Calum to duck under the table, and as he did so, a man’s body fell on top of him. It was Stuart. He’d been shot too. ‘Mum! Dad!’ Calum screamed in absolute terror. Stuart was a dead weight and Calum could barely breathe, let alone move. He was crushed.

Overcome by sheer fright, and unable to breathe properly, the last thing Calum Butler heard before he lost consciousness was his dad scream out his mum’s name and a man’s voice shout, ‘They’ve gone. Call the police and an ambulance. Hurry up, for fuck’s sake!’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eddie Mitchell plonked his drinks on the table. He looked extra suave today in his black Armani suit and he’d finally got around to having his hair cut yesterday. ‘The barmaid wouldn’t stop talking. She’s got the hots for me,’ he chuckled. ‘Nice-looking sort. But you know me, Vin. Only got eyes for my Gina.’

When his phone started to ring again, Vinny turned it off. ‘Me and my big mouth. It’s deffo all kicked off at the wake. Five missed calls from my mum in the space of two minutes. Michael’s probably on the warpath, searching for me as we speak. Let’s hope he don’t get his hands on a cricket bat again, eh?’ Vinny joked. When his brother had originally found out about his fling with Bella, Michael had stormed inside the Blind Beggar and taken a cricket bat to his head.

‘Did you tell Michael you’d put your foot in it?’ Eddie asked.

‘Nah. I said Mum needed to speak to him urgently. We’ll shoot back there in half an hour or so. Hopefully, he might have calmed down a bit by then.’

Every head in the place turned as the pub door crashed open and a white-faced man staggered in. ‘There’s been a shooting,’ he stammered, ‘down the road. It’s carnage out there – loads of people dead.’

Vinny leapt up. ‘What’s happened? Where?’

‘Nick’s restaurant – two masked men ran in there and started shooting. Ring the police and call some ambulances,’ he told the barmaid. ‘I’m going back there to see if I can help in any way.’

Vinny’s face turned a deathly shade of white. So did Eddie’s. Seconds later, the two of them bolted from the pub.

‘Sammi! Talk to me. Open your eyes. Please, keep awake, babe.’ Little Vinny’s tears dripped on to his wife’s cheeks as he gently cradled her head while pleading with her to speak to him. She’d said his name just now, and whispered Oliver’s, so she’d definitely been alive then. But now her eyes were shut, and as much as he pleaded, she wouldn’t open them again.

‘Move out the way. I’m a first aider,’ a female urged.

Little Vinny did as he was told. Punching the wall in frustration, he sank to his haunches, put his head in his hands and cried. He already knew Oliver was dead. His handsome first-born’s face now resembled something out of a horror movie. Nobody could have survived that, let alone a sixteen-year-old lad. As for Sammi-Lou, she’d been shot twice, in the chest and arm. This could not be happening, surely? Was it a bad dream? A fucked-up nightmare?

‘The police are here,’ a voice yelled.

‘Cover Oliver up. Put a coat over him or something. I can’t bear to look at him like that,’ Queenie wept, trying to comfort Ava at the same time. Her granddaughter was in trance-like shock, most people were. The atmosphere was completely surreal and Queenie was petrified that Vinny had also been caught up in the crossfire. She hadn’t been able to hear much with Michael lying across her as a human shield, but she’d caught enough of what the masked men had said to know they were after her eldest’s scalp in some warped form of retribution for Ahmed Zane.

‘The paramedics have arrived. Move away from the injured,’ a male voice bellowed.

Mouthy Maureen sobbed as Big Stan was covered over. He’d been a great neighbour, so kind, and Whitechapel certainly wouldn’t be the same without him. His family would be devastated, especially his poor wife, who was completely dependent on him due to her own health problems. She struggled to walk these days.

Totally beside himself, Calum Butler repeatedly smashed his forehead against the wall.

‘Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,’ Michael said, grabbing hold of the distraught lad and wrapping his strong arms around him. Like everyone else, Michael was stunned by what had happened but was trying to hold it together for the sake of the family. He was also relieved his own children weren’t present. Camila had had an important audition for a show, thank God. And Nathan and Ellie hadn’t known Viv that well.

‘Ollie’s dead and now my mum’s gonna die. I need to be with Regan. They’ll have to let him come home now, won’t they?’ Calum gabbled, clinging on to Michael. He’d always been closer to his younger brother than he had to Oliver, but he’d still loved him a lot. Now he didn’t have an older brother any more. A disfigured corpse was all that was left of Ollie.

‘The professionals are working on your mum now. Fingers crossed, she’s gonna be OK, boy. Let’s both say a prayer for her, eh?’

‘Nah. God’s a fucking wanker. I don’t believe in him anyway.’

‘Dad! Nan, there’s Dad,’ Ava shrieked, the relief in her voice clear to hear.

Shocked at the horrific sight that greeted his eyes, Vinny scanned the room for his mum and dashed towards her, throwing his arms around her, then Ava. ‘Thank God you’re both all right. Where’s Little Vinny, and Michael? Is all the family OK?’

‘Little Vinny and Michael are, but Oliver and Sammi-Lou both got shot. He’s gone, boy. Ollie’s dead,’ Queenie sobbed. It was only recently her great-grandson had visited her in her new home. Laughing and joking, he’d been, telling her all about his college course. She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. His life had been wiped out in front of her very eyes, in an instant.

Vinny looked at his mother as though she had lost the plot. ‘Ollie? Where is he? He can’t be dead.’

The gaff was now swarming with police and paramedics. Tears rolled down Queenie’s cheeks as she pointed towards where Oliver lay. The once-clean carpet was soaked in blood and gore. And most of the blood was her great-grandson’s.

Vinny ran over to the lifeless body of his first-born grandchild. ‘Move out the fucking way,’ he demanded.

A police officer grabbed hold of Vinny’s arm. ‘You can’t go near the victims, sir. We’re doing everything we can, as are the paramedics.’

Vinny pushed the copper out of his way. ‘I wanna see my grandson. I’ve got every right to.’

Another police officer stepped in. ‘I’m so sorry, but your grandson is a fatality. Now, can we clear this area? Move everybody outside. This is a crime scene,’ he yelled at his colleague.

Stunned, Vinny couldn’t move. He could remember holding Oliver in his arms as a baby for the very first time, and had felt great pride in watching him grow into a charming young man. The lad had his whole life ahead of him, how could it be wiped out in a split second?

Vinny was jolted back to reality by Eddie Mitchell’s voice. ‘Stuart’s in a proper bad way. Been shot in the gut and shoulder. I’m going in the ambulance with him. He’s unconscious.’

‘Jesus wept! I hope he’s gonna be all right. They reckon Oliver’s dead. He can’t be, surely? We only went to the pub. Who would pull a stunt like this at a wake? And why?’ Vinny mumbled. The carnage around him was dreadful, and he just couldn’t take it all in at present. How the hell was his son going to cope if Oliver was dead? That boy had always been the apple of Little Vinny’s eye. As for Sammi-Lou, she’d been the making of his son. No way would he be able to carry on without her.

Looking around for Little Vinny, Vinny heard the blood-curling scream come from his mouth before he saw him:

‘You can’t die, Sammi-Lou. Me and the boys love you. We need you. Wake up, sweetheart. Please, I beg you. Wake up …’

Eddie Mitchell paced up and down the hospital corridor. Stuart was currently undergoing a life-saving operation and the doctors had already warned Eddie that his chances of pulling through were no higher than fifty–fifty.

‘I’ll go and get us some coffees. Anyone hungry?’ Raymond asked. Not many men would still be pals and employed by a bloke who’d ended their sister’s life, but Raymond had been employed by Ed since he was a teenager and wasn’t a man to hold unnecessary grudges. Eddie Mitchell was a good person, Jessica had idolized him. What had happened was no more than an accident, a horrific case of mistaken identity.

Gary Mitchell, Ed’s eldest son, shook his head. He and Raymond had been out collecting a few debts when they’d heard through the grapevine about the shooting. News travelled fast amongst the underworld and as relieved as Gary was to learn his dad was unscathed, he was gutted that Stuart had copped it. Stu was a good bloke and since he’d taken up with Frankie, he’d well and truly become one of the family.

When Raymond walked away, Eddie plonked himself on his chair. ‘I’m such a cunt when that Scotch gets in my veins, ya know. Stu wanted to leave the wake, but I weren’t having none of it. Spoke to him like a piece of shit, I did. If only I’d listened to him. Poor bastard’s fighting for his life now because of me.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up, Dad – you weren’t the one who went loopy with a poxy gun. Any idea who’s responsible? Gotta be somebody who’s got it in for Vinny, surely?’

‘I heard a murmur as I left that they were Turks. Someone said they shouted out Ahmed’s name.’

‘Ahmed who?’

‘Ahmed Zane – you must remember him. Used to be Vinny’s business partner, and pal. Slimy shitbag, he was. I never liked him. Well, he wronged Vinny, him and his cousin Burak, so Vinny made them vanish. Years ago now, though. Why wait all this time for revenge?’

Gary sighed. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash, I dare say. I bet you wish you’d never got involved with Vinny bloody Butler now?’

Eddie shrugged. ‘Even if it’s true that it was revenge for Ahmed, it ain’t exactly Vinny’s fault. Ahmed had it coming to him and disappeared years ago. Whoever is responsible must be the same sickos who sent us the rats and snake.’

‘What rats and snake?’ Gary asked.

Eddie explained about the unwanted gifts that had turned up at the casino.

‘Why didn’t you mention that before?’

‘Didn’t seem important. I thought it was something to do with the pikeys, if I’m honest. Something Harry said pointed towards those bastards.’

‘Stu better pull through, Dad. Frankie’ll go to pieces without him by her side. No way will she be able to manage the devil’s spawn on her own.’

About to reply, Eddie was stopped from doing so by the appearance of a stony-faced doctor. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Mitchell. We really did do everything we could, but Mr Howells’s injuries were far worse than we could have imagined. The bullet was lodged only a centimetre from the heart and as we tried to dislodge it, he went into cardiac arrest.’

‘He’s dead?’ Eddie mumbled stupidly.

The doctor nodded.

Little Vinny Butler felt like his whole world had collapsed, and it had. He’d been sick and couldn’t stop shaking, and as an image of Molly flashed through his mind once again, he shut his eyes and rocked to and fro. He could see his little sister clearly, she was smiling at him, laughing almost, and he knew without a doubt this was retribution for his past sins. To lose a much-loved child was an excruciating feeling, and Little Vinny now knew how his dad must’ve felt when Molly died.

‘I think the doctor needs to sedate him, love. He looks grey and can’t stop trembling, bless him,’ Queenie muttered in Vinny’s ear. They were currently in Newham General Hospital. Against all odds, Sammi-Lou had been resuscitated after her heart had stopped. However, the doctors weren’t overly hopeful of a full recovery, as her heart had stopped for a good few minutes.

‘I wanna go home. I need to phone Regan,’ Calum spat. His tears had turned to anger, and he hated the world.

‘I’ll ring Regan’s social worker in the morning. Once the authorities know what’s happened, they should allow him home,’ Vinny replied, rather coldly. He had never particularly been a granddad type. Pipe and slippers were not his style, and he’d tended to treat his grandsons like little mates. He remembered how he’d once ordered young Oliver to call him ‘Vinny’ rather than ‘Granddad’. How he wished he could change that now. Oliver could call him ‘Granddad’ every minute of every day, if only it would bring him back to life.

Queenie squeezed her eldest’s hand. Ava hadn’t wanted to come to the hospital, had chosen to go back to Albie’s house in Barking with Michael. No way would Queenie leave Vinny’s side though. She could see in his eyes how hard this had hit him, and even though she was still in a state of shock herself, she needed to remain strong. It was her duty as a mother.

‘Tell me again what the bastards said, Mum. See if you can remember the exact words this time.’

‘It was all such a blur, Vin, I really can’t think straight at the moment. But they definitely spoke with Turkish accents, and I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I heard them mention Ahmed’s name. They said something like “This is for Ahmed.” It was the one in the Bill Clinton mask, I think. No, it might’ve been the other one. So scary, those awful masks were. I thought they were armed robbers at first, I really did.’

‘I’ll find ’em and fucking make ’em wish they’d never been born, I promise you that much. When I get my hands on the bastards, I’ll—’

‘Shut up! Just fucking close that big mouth of yours for once, will ya?’ Little Vinny screamed, stopping his father mid-sentence. ‘My beautiful wife is fighting for her life. My son is dead. And all this is your fault. You playing the big man is what has brought on this tragedy in the first place. How dare you sit there, planning your revenge at a time like this? Piss off home, and take him with you an’ all,’ Little Vinny said, poking Calum on the arm. ‘None of yous are bothered about Sammi-Lou. All he’s bothered about is Regan. As for you and Nan, you’re two of a fucking kind. All you care about is each other.’

About to jump to his mother’s defence, Vinny Butler was stopped from doing so by the arrival of Sammi-Lou’s father. Vinny and Gary Allen had never seen eye to eye, and when Gary started insinuating that what had happened was his fault, instead of arguing the point, Vinny blanked the man and stood up. ‘Come on, Mum, and you, Calum. We’ll leave Sammi’s family in peace and pop back later.’

The last thing Vinny heard as he stomped down the corridor was the scathing comments from Gary Allen: ‘Leave us in peace! I’ve never had a decent night’s sleep since my Sammi became a Butler. A disaster waiting to happen, this was. And it isn’t your son’s fault, it’s yours.’

‘Don’t let him talk to you like that,’ Queenie hissed.

Unusually for Vinny, he chose to ignore his mother’s advice. Oliver was dead; Sammi-Lou, even if she did survive, would probably be brain-dead. So for once, Mouth Almighty Allen did have an extremely valid point.

Albie Butler was sitting in silence in his favourite armchair. It was full of cigarette burns, and worn out in places – and that’s exactly how Albie felt at this moment. Old, stained and faded. Albie had hoped, even prayed that the wonderful Vivian would get the send-off she truly deserved, but it wasn’t to be. Her funeral would go down in history for many years to come, but for all the wrong reasons.

Michael grabbed the brandy bottle and topped his father’s glass up, then his own. ‘You got any food in the fridge? You didn’t eat at the wake, did ya? I’ll make you something.’

‘I’m not hungry, lad. But thanks anyway. Be turning in her grave, will Vivvy, and truth be known I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this world, Michael. I’m tired, I’m old, and I want to see Vivvy again. And our Roy, Adam, Oliver, Brenda and Molly. Got more family up above now than down ’ere.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Your mum’s always blamed me for Molly’s death, seeing as it was my bastard son that did it. But I had nothing to do with the way he was brought up – I never even knew the kid existed. It wasn’t me that made him a killer. So I reckon your mother has far more blood on her hands than me. I’ve often wondered if Vinny was born evil, but I don’t believe he was. It’s your mother’s doing, the way he’s turned out. Queenie was determined to mould her first-born into a crime lord to match the bloody Krays. I remember how she used to look up to Violet Kray back in the day. She’d see the way shopkeepers would let Violet jump the queue and make a big fuss of her, how everyone kowtowed to her, and she was jealous. That’s what your mother craved: notoriety and adulation. And with no way of achieving that in her own right, she was determined yous boys would do it for her. It’s her that’s evil, boy, and she has blood all over her hands after today’s shambles. Lovely lad, our Oliver. What a waste of a bloody life. And I’ve always thought the world of Sammi-Lou. Why is it always the good ones that suffer and not the bad souls? The devil certainly looks after your mother and Vinny,’ Albie spat.

Shocked by the viciousness in his usually mild-mannered father’s words, Michael was taken aback. ‘Mum ain’t evil, Dad. She is what she is. Today wasn’t her doing. As for Vinny, we all know he’s got a streak, but he has calmed down of late. I bet he’s as shocked as anybody. Ahmed and Burak vanished years ago – why wait until Auntie Viv’s wake to turn up, hell-bent on revenge? It just doesn’t make sense.’

‘Of course it makes bleedin’ sense! They were gunning for your brother and, as per usual, he got away unharmed while others weren’t so lucky. How you can stick up for Vinny or your mother after that Bella turnout, I will never know. Your mother moulded Vinny into the money-grabbing power-loving fruitcake that he turned out to be, and Vinny chose to pal up with Ahmed in the first bloody place. Had he chosen his friends more wisely, Oliver would still be alive and Sammi-Lou would not be at death’s door. You need to wake up and smell the coffee, boy. The evil in this family will outlive you, if you’re not very careful. You mark my words.’

Head bowed, Eddie Mitchell felt desolate as he leaned against the wall and lit a cigar. Stuart’s motor was parked up in Stratford, but no way could he face travelling back to Essex in the vehicle the two of them had been laughing and joking in only this morning. He got all choked up just thinking about the way he’d been taking the piss out of his future son-in-law’s girly-looking air freshener and his rubbish taste in music.

‘I’m gonna have to get off in a bit, if that’s OK?’ Raymond stated and asked at the same time. His wife’s parents were coming over to theirs for dinner and Polly would have his guts for garters if he did not turn up. It was her mother’s birthday.

‘Yeah – you get off. And you, Gary,’ Eddie muttered. He’d originally met Stuart in prison. They’d shared a cell together and bonded almost instantly. Stu was far more than a pal or employee to Eddie. The lad was like another son to him.

‘I haven’t got to be anywhere. I’ll come to Frankie’s with you. Have you switched your phone back on yet? Frankie isn’t silly, ya know,’ Gary reminded his father.

‘I rang Joey. She’s been trying to ring me and Stu, but she don’t know anything yet. Joey took her out for something to eat, like I told him to. I couldn’t even tell him on the phone Stuart’s dead, so fuck knows how I’m gonna explain that to Frankie. She’s bound to blame me. So will Stu’s mum, I bet. Best I pluck up the courage to pay her a visit tomorrow an’ all. It’s what Stuart would’ve wanted me to do.’

Gary put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulders. Life had toughened him up to the point that not much fazed him these days. ‘Let’s call a cab, eh? I’ll do the talking when we get to Frankie’s. We need to be strong, Dad. Frankie’s gonna need us more than ever now. Poor little cow ain’t destined to find happiness, is she? Perhaps those bastard gypsies cursed her after all.’

Meg Allen darted along the hospital corridor with her youngest daughter by her side. She and Millie had been spending a relaxing day being pampered at an Essex health farm when Meg had checked her phone messages. Gary had left one, telling her there’d been an incident and she needed to make her way to the London Chest Hospital in Bethnal Green as soon as possible.

‘Whatever’s happened? And why haven’t you been answering your bloody phone? We’ve been worried sick,’ Meg Allen screamed at her husband. She and Millie had thought of every scenario possible and panicked throughout the journey. Meg had come to the conclusion her husband must have endured some kind of heart failure, but here he was, fully dressed, and apart from looking a bit peaky he seemed as right as rain.

Gary Allen was not a man who shed tears easily. Even when he’d buried his dear old mum last year, he’d managed to keep a stiff upper lip during his moving eulogy. However, Sammi-Lou was his first-born and he’d doted on her since day one. As for Oliver, unlike the other two horrors his daughter had given birth to, he truly was the perfect grandson. Gary had idolized the lad, even as a baby.

Having never seen her dad cry before, Millie was frightened. ‘Where’s Sammi-Lou and the boys? Is it Little Vinny? Has something bad happened to him?’

Gary Allen put one arm around his wife, and the other around his daughter. ‘There was a shooting at the wake. Two masked men burst in. Oliver didn’t make it, and Sammi-Lou is critical. Her heart stopped, and …’

Meg Allen pushed her husband away. ‘Oliver didn’t make what? A shooting at a wake! Where is Sammi now?’

‘Surely you don’t mean Oliver’s dead, Dad? That’s ridiculous. And Sammi’s heart can’t have stopped,’ Millie Allen shrieked.

When Little Vinny suddenly appeared, his white shirt covered in blood and a doctor in tow, the realization suddenly hit Meg and Millie Allen full in the face. It was then Meg became hysterical.

Frankie Mitchell wasn’t daft. She knew when Joey had turned up out of the blue earlier, demanding to take her and the kids out for something to eat, that her father must have told him to do so. No doubt her dad had enticed Stuart to get rat-arsed at the wake and now he was feeling guilty, trying to put her in a good mood so she wouldn’t bite Stuart’s head off when he rolled home. Or at least, that’s what she’d assumed.

‘No. Don’t put the TV on,’ Joey shouted, snatching the remote out of Brett’s hands.

‘But Mum says I’m old enough to watch The Simpsons now,’ Brett complained.

Frankie snatched the remote out of her brother’s hand. ‘You’ve been acting bloody weird ever since you got here. I reckoned Dad sent you because him and Stuart are bladdered, but you’re so twitchy it’s starting to freak me out. So come on, Joey, tell me: what’s going on?’

All Joey knew was that there had been a shooting at the funeral his father had attended, and Stuart had been wounded. When his dad had rung back again, about an hour or so ago, he’d offered no more information. His orders were to keep Frankie away from the TV and radio; Eddie promised he would explain all when he arrived at Frankie’s himself.

‘I’m not acting weird. It’s just me and Dom. He went mad when I told him I’m going to be working for Dad. Stormed out, and I think it’s all over between us, for good.’ Joey was telling the truth to a degree. Dominic had gone ballistic when he broke the news he was giving up his high-flying career as a broker to go and work for his father.

Harry nudged Georgie. In the travelling community, homosexuality was extremely frowned upon. Rumour had it that Old Man Macca’s grandson had been gay, and he’d disappeared without a trace. ‘Uncle Joey, can I ask you something? I know I don’t call Frankie muvver, but it’s OK to call you my uncle, ain’t it?’

Knowing whatever the horrible child said was bound to be crude and also a dig at him, Joey’s response was, ‘Call me whatever you like, Nephew.’

‘I wanna know if it hurts when Dom sticks his cory up your bum? Only, sometimes when I have a crap it’s painful – and that’s going out the normal way, ain’t it?’

Frankie was speechless for a moment, but when Georgie burst out laughing she turned on her children and yelled: ‘Get back upstairs now, the pair of ya. I’ve had enough of you two for one day and if you don’t get out of my sight, I’ll swing for you. No way are you going out with Calum again until you learn how to behave in the correct manner. And I bloody well mean that!’

Georgie giggled as she playfully pushed her brother up the stairs. ‘We’ll be nice to her tomorrow, behave ourselves. Bet she does let us see Calum.’

‘Yeah. The dinlo will fall for it an’ all, she’s that desperate,’ Harry grinned.

‘Mum, if Stuart doesn’t come home, can I sleep in your bed with you tonight?’ Brett asked Frankie. The last couple of mornings Harry had crept into his room and been really nasty to him before anybody else in the house had woken up.

‘Stuart will be coming home, love. But if Granddad has got him very drunk, we’ll make him sleep on the sofa, shall we?’ Frankie replied jovially. So far, Brett hadn’t picked up on the terrible sayings and language Georgie and Harry used, but Frankie was worried he would in the long run. Brett certainly wasn’t his usual self lately, and that did concern Frankie immensely. Her youngest had always been a bubbly little chap before Georgie and Harry came on the scene.

‘Nooooo,’ Joey yelled, snatching the remote off Frankie and turning off the TV the second she turned it on. His dad had said there was bound to be something about what had happened today on the news.

Frankie put her hands on her hips. ‘Right! Tell me the truth now. What the fuck is going on, Joey?’

The buzzer sounded in the nick of time. Joey Mitchell was relieved to fling open the front door and see his father and Gary step out of a black cab. He ran outside to greet them. ‘Frankie knows something’s up. Have they kept Stuart in hospital? He’s going to be OK, isn’t he?’

One look at his father and half-brother’s sombre expressions told Joey all he needed to know.

Minutes later, Frankie Mitchell’s screams of unbridled anguish could be heard half a mile away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was ten p.m. when Michael and Albie Butler arrived at the hospital in Bethnal Green. Little Vinny had rung up in a terrible state, and aware that Vinny had left the hospital, Michael had insisted his nephew needed some family around him.

‘They won’t tell us anything,’ Little Vinny bellowed, eyes bulging with a look of sheer terror.

Gary Allen glared at Michael and Albie, mumbling, ‘I’m going to find Meg and Millie,’ before stomping off. Unlike his wife, who’d been quite at ease with Sammi-Lou’s relationship with Little Vinny from the very beginning, Gary had always seen the danger signs. He was a self-made millionaire through pure hard graft, and a family of notorious gangsters did not impress Gary in the least. Especially one that seemed to have a personal bond with the Grim Reaper.

‘You sit with your granddad and I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on,’ Michael said.

‘Gary hates me now. He’s blaming me for what happened. I only went to Auntie Viv’s funeral, so how is all this my fault?’ Little Vinny told Albie. ‘Dad’s the one to blame, if anybody. It was him they came to shoot. Why did they have to turn the gun on Ollie and Sammi? Why would anybody do that to an innocent woman and child?’

Albie had no answers, all he could do was put an arm around his distressed grandson’s shoulders. Little Vinny had lived with him when his father had gone to prison, and they’d been extremely close ever since. It was an awful feeling to lose a son; Albie could remember Roy’s death as though it were yesterday, and all he could do was say a silent prayer that Sammi-Lou would pull through. With Sammi by his side, Little Vinny would cope with the loss of Oliver in time, but without her Albie feared for his grandson’s future. Sammi was the strong one in their relationship. It was she who had turned Little Vinny into the good man he was today.

‘Gary upset Meg and she stormed out. He was really nasty to her, said some proper shitty stuff. Aimed at me being a Butler it was. He was insinuating that our family is rotten to the fucking core. I’ve always been a good dad and husband, haven’t I? The man’s a cunt, Granddad.’

‘Don’t be taking no notice of Gary, boy. It’s grief and worry making him say such stuff. Michael will have a chat with him – put him straight, so to speak. What happened with your father? Did you two have words?’

‘He’s a cunt an’ all. All him and Nan are bothered about is themselves, so I told ’em where to go. They make me sick. How dare they discuss fucking revenge when I’ve just lost my son and I don’t even know if my wife’s gonna pull through?’

Albie shook his head in disgust. Queenie and Vinny never failed to disappoint him.

‘Where’s Calum?’ Little Vinny asked.

‘Round your nan’s with your father. We dropped Ava off there before coming here. In a right state of shock, she is, bless her. She sends her love to you and Sammi.’

‘Sammi’s gonna need more than love. The first doctor we spoke to said her heart had stopped for a few minutes. Then the Indian quack said it was longer, and hinted if she wakes up she might be brain-dead. What am I gonna do, Granddad? I love her so bloody much.’

‘I know you do, lad. She’s a fighter is Sammi. Let’s hope she—’

Albie never got to finish his words of comfort. The doctor appeared at that moment and the look on his face spoke volumes.

‘I’m so sorry. We did our utmost, but Sammi-Lou didn’t make it, I’m afraid.’

Little Vinny picked up the chair and threw it down the corridor. ‘Nooooo. Not my Sammi-Lou. This ain’t happening. It can’t be. Sammi, Sammi,’ he screamed.

Georgie and Harry O’Hara were in an extremely upbeat mood. Neither child had liked Stuart. He was far less of a pushover than their mother, and they were delighted he was now out of the picture.

‘She’s wailing again. Hark at her. Sounds like that Jack Russell I used to torture,’ Harry chuckled. He, more so than Georgie, was getting a real buzz out of his mother’s pain. It served her right.

‘I think we should say something to her. We can pretend to be sad, can’t we?’ Georgie suggested. She and Harry had been earwigging earlier when their granddad and Uncle Gary had delivered the shocking blow to their mother. She’d screamed like a nutter, then locked herself in her bedroom and had not stopped making weird noises since.

‘I ain’t saying nothing to her. And why should you? The bitch took us away from our family. Now she knows how it feels to be apart from someone you care about. Poor old Stuie. I wonder how badly he suffered before snuffing it?’

‘Oh, don’t say that, Harry. He did buy us loads of stuff. I’m gonna knock on Mum’s door and tell her we’re sorry for her loss.’

‘Go on then, crawler. And while you’re at it, ask the slag when we can go and visit Calum next.’

Michael Butler glared at the unfeeling police officer. ‘The lad’s in no fit state to talk to you mob. Would you wanna chat if you’d just lost a son and your wife?’ he hissed.

‘No. But I will need to take a statement from him soon. How about tomorrow?’

‘How about you go catch the killers instead of pestering us? I’ve already told you everything that happened. I ain’t telling you again,’ Michael snarled.

Little Vinny pinched himself on the arm to check he was actually awake. He felt so numb, he doubted he was capable of stringing a couple of words together, let alone a full sentence. His mind kept replaying the first time he’d laid eyes on Sammi-Lou. He might have only been a teenager back then, but he’d known immediately that one day he would marry her. People question whether love at first sight exists, but he and Sammi were living proof that it did. Or they were up until this morning. Now his beautiful wife was dead, and he was about to say his goodbyes to her. Surreal didn’t even scratch the surface.

‘One of the nurses will be with you in a minute,’ the doctor told Little Vinny.

‘Do you want me to go in with you? Or would you rather be alone?’ Michael asked his nephew.

‘Alone. I want to be alone – with my wife,’ Little Vinny replied. Even his voice didn’t feel like it belonged to him. It sounded flat and dead, which was exactly how he felt inside.

‘I’ll make up the spare bed. You can stay at mine for as long as you like. With Calum, of course,’ Albie said. He really did not know what else to say. On a day like today, there were simply no words.

‘I’ll go home.’

‘Me and Granddad’ll come and stay with you then,’ Michael stated. Little Vinny was understandably shell-shocked and no way was Michael leaving him all by himself.

‘Nah. You go back to Barking. I need my own space.’

Michael and Albie shared a worried glance. Both were thinking the same thing. Little Vinny had endured problems with drink and drugs in the past. Would this send him spiralling out of control again?

‘Mummy! Mummy, please open the door. I want a cuddle,’ Brett Mitchell wept. He had loved Stuart and seen him as the dad he’d never had. They’d played lots of games together, had fun days out, and Stuart had bought him toys and games. Now he was gone for good and Brett knew his life was about to get a whole lot worse. His mum would be sad all the time, and Harry would pick on him even more.

‘Move out the way, Brett,’ Eddie ordered. ‘Frankie, unlock the door, darlin’,’ he bellowed. After hours of constant wailing, it had all gone worryingly quiet inside the bedroom.

‘Do as Dad says, Sis. I know you’re upset and want to be alone, but Brett needs his mummy,’ Joey added. Being twins, he and Frankie had always been exceptionally close. His heart went out to his sister, it really did. Even though his own relationship was rocky at the moment, he’d still managed to find and hold on to love. With Stuart, Frankie thought she’d finally found love too.

Unable to stop himself, Harry O’Hara burst out laughing. ‘Brett needs his mummy,’ he mimicked.

Georgie giggled. ‘Shhh. They’ll hear you.’

‘Go shut that pair up, Gary. If I go in there, I’ll strangle both of ’em,’ Eddie ordered his son.

Georgie and Harry insisted on sharing a bedroom, and as Gary flung the door open, Harry scowled at him. ‘You’re meant to knock first. Says so on the sign outside. Georgie might’ve been getting changed. Hoping to see her titties, was ya, you perv?’

Seeing red, Gary raised his right hand and whacked the cheeky little shit around the head. He didn’t feel like an uncle to these kids. They were vermin, just like their father had been.

Harry O’Hara was stunned as he fell to the carpet.

‘Leave him alone, you bastard. Touch him again and I’ll beat the granny out of ya,’ Georgie O’Hara screamed as she flew at Gary, scratching at his face like a wildcat.

Gary held both of Georgie’s wrists and glared at Harry. ‘We could hear you, taking the piss. Your mum’s fiancé has just been murdered. Have you no fucking heart?’

‘We’ve lost our family an’ all, you know,’ Harry spat.

Letting go of Georgie, Gary Mitchell wagged his forefinger at both kids. ‘I’d watch my back if I were you two. Me and your granddad are on to ya, big time.’

When Gary slammed their bedroom door, Harry O’Hara stuck both middle fingers in the air. ‘Go fuck your grandmother,’ he mumbled. In the travelling community, that was the worst insult there was.

Little Vinny stared at his wife’s pretty face. It didn’t have a mark on it. Sammi looked as though she was sleeping and would wake up any second. She truly was beautiful, even in death.

Sammi’s body was covered over, but unable to stop himself, Little Vinny lifted up the cover to hold her hand. It was still warm. ‘I love you, babe. I’ll always love you. Forever soulmates, eh?’

As he continued to pour his heart out to Sammi-Lou as though she could hear him, tears flooded down Little Vinny’s cheeks. ‘I won’t let you down, I won’t fall to pieces, I promise you that. It’s your job to take care of Ollie now, and mine to look out for Calum and Regan. I’m going to get in touch with Regan’s social worker tomorrow, fight tooth and nail to get him an early release. That’s what you would’ve wanted, eh? And Calum’s gonna need his brother now he hasn’t got you or Ollie, isn’t he?’

For a split second, Little Vinny could have sworn he felt Sammi-Lou’s hand slightly squeeze his, but he guessed that was only wishful thinking. ‘I want you to tell our Ollie how much I love him, babe. I can’t go and see him, not with his face like that; I’d rather remember him how he looked this morning. Smart and handsome in his suit and tie. Tell him he will always be my number one son, no matter what.’

Little Vinny carried on chatting to his deceased wife until a nurse opened the door and informed him the Allens wanted to see Sammi-Lou. He stood up and kissed Sammi tenderly on the forehead. ‘Goodbye, princess. Wait for me in heaven.’

Little Vinny’s final memory of visiting his dead wife would be of Meg Allen as she was taken inside the room. ‘My baby. My beautiful little girl. Sammi-Lou. Sammi-Lou. You can’t leave me. Wake up,’ Meg screamed.

Shuddering, Little Vinny ran towards the hospital exit.

‘You’ve got thirty seconds to open this door, Frankie, before I break it down,’ Eddie Mitchell threatened.

‘Go downstairs a minute, Brett. Mum’ll be down in a tick,’ Gary said, ruffling his nephew’s hair. Unlike the other two horrors, Brett was a lovely little boy. So much so, it was hard to believe Jed O’Hara’s sperm was involved in his creation.

‘You don’t reckon she’s done something stupid, do you?’ Gary whispered, as soon as Brett was out of earshot.

‘Only one way to find out,’ Eddie said, taking a step back then aiming his right foot at the door.

The door finally splintered at the third attempt and Joey was first to burst into the room. ‘She’s not here.’

Eddie peered out of the open window. Frankie had obviously made her escape via the garage roof, but there was no sign of her. ‘What the fuck am I paying these so-called security men for, eh? Gary, you stay here and look after Brett. Joey, me and you will find your sister.’

Ten minutes later, Joey Mitchell found his sister in the summer house. She was sitting on the floor, her knees huddled to her chest, shivering. ‘Dad, Dad! I’ve found her,’ Joey yelled, before taking his jacket off and putting it around Frankie’s shoulders.

‘What you doing out here? You had us worried sick. You could’ve broken your neck jumping off that garage roof,’ Eddie Mitchell told her.

‘I wish I had. I don’t want to live any more. I’ve had enough. First Mum, now Stuart. He didn’t even want to go to that fucking funeral you know. Said he didn’t know the dead woman. Why did you have to drag him there? Were you not content with just killing my mum? Did you want me to lose my fiancé as well?’

Tears pricking his eyes, Eddie crouched to his haunches. The day he’d accidentally killed Jessica had been the worst of his life, but today was right up there with those dark days when his father and his son Ricky had been brutally murdered, that was for sure. ‘I loved him too, Frankie. Stu was like a son to me, you know he was.’

‘But he was more than that to me, wasn’t he? Stuart was my future, my everything. And now he’s gone, thanks to you. You’re gonna have to take care of Georgie and Harry for me now. I can’t manage. Harry’s evil, just like Jed was. You should’ve heard what he said about Stuart earlier. He was laughing, I heard him. That’s why I had to get out the house. I couldn’t take any more. I just want to curl up and die. That’s why I brought these in here with me,’ Frankie screamed, waving a packet of tablets in the air.

Joey snatched hold of the packet in panic. ‘How many have you taken, Frankie?’

‘None! I forgot to bring a drink. But if I had, I would have swallowed every single fucking one of ’em. Other than Brett, I have nothing to live for now. Nothing whatsoever.’

Queenie Butler switched the bedroom light on. ‘You hungry, Calum? You need to eat something. I’ve got burgers, sausages, bacon. Can cook you whatever you fancy.’

‘Not hungry. I just wanna sleep,’ came the muffled reply. Calum had been under the quilt for hours and had no intention of getting up. All he could think about was his mum and Oliver. Not being able to see, talk, laugh or even argue with them again seemed so unreal. Their deaths hadn’t sunk in, and Calum doubted they ever would. He’d stared at his nan in a state of disbelief when she’d informed him: ‘Your mum’s gone to heaven to look after your brother, boy. Your dad, me, and the rest of the family will take care of you and Regan from now on. A promise that is, an’ all. You’ll want for nothing; I’ll make sure of that.’

‘Na-night then, love. If you wake up later and need anything, just give me a shout. Even if you just wanna chat, OK?’

Calum didn’t bother answering. How could his great-gran even say ‘You’ll want for nothing’ when his mum and brother had been shot to smithereens right in front of him?

‘How is he? Silly question, I know,’ Vinny asked solemnly, his arm draped around Ava’s shoulders. His daughter was usually as strong as an ox, but today had knocked the stuffing out of her. It had all of them. Everybody seemed to be running on autopilot, but Ava in particular was acting weird. She was clingy, childlike almost, and it reminded Vinny of days gone by when she’d been a little girl. Not the stroppy teenager she was most days now.

‘Still under the quilt. I dunno what else to say to him. I’m not the greatest with words at times such as these. Suffered too many tragedies in the past, that’s bloody why. Will you talk to him, Vin?’

‘I dunno what to say to him either. Molly, Auntie Viv, Roy, Champ, Adam … You just run out of words in the end, don’t ya?’ He purposely left his sister Brenda out of his list of deaths because he hadn’t really liked her that much. When Queenie offered no reply but continued to look at him expectantly, he turned to his daughter. ‘Go chat to Calum for us please, Ava? You’re much better at saying the right things than me and your nan are.’

Imagining how dreadful Calum must be feeling, Ava reluctantly made her way upstairs.

‘I feel so ill, Vin. Must’ve aged ten years recently. And there was me thinking moving home would change my luck. Cursed, this family is, I’m telling ya. Him up above hates us. I wouldn’t mind if we were bad people, but we have hearts of gold. Do anybody a good turn if we can. Why us?’

‘None of it makes any sense, Mum. Why wait all these years then decide to turn up waving guns on today of all days? I will start making enquiries tomorrow and when I find out who’s responsible, I’ll personally hack their limbs off while they’re still alive.’

Queenie’s eyes welled up. ‘But say they find you first? If anything happens to you, it’ll be the end of me. I couldn’t live without you, Vin. I love you too much.’

Vinny held his mother in his arms trying to soothe her fears. In truth, he was a very worried man. If the Turks were capable of the chaos they’d caused at the wake, then he’d better watch his back very carefully indeed.

‘No way is Ava going to work at your club with those loonies on the loose. I won’t allow it,’ Queenie insisted.

‘I know. I’ll talk to Ava tomorrow. I don’t want you going out alone either. Not until I’ve sorted this mess.’

For all the conviction in his voice, Vinny had no idea how he was going to sort this particular mess. Turks were like travellers: a closed community who stuck together like glue, so finding out who’d pulled such a stroke was not going to be easy. But money talked and, like all communities, the Turks were bound to have one or two backstabbing traitors living amongst them.

‘Now go give Little Vinny a ring,’ urged Queenie. ‘What that lad must be going through doesn’t bear thinking about. My first great-grandchild dead, and poor Sammi-Lou. I feel numb, truly can’t get my head around it. The look on Big Stan’s face as they shot him will haunt me for the rest of my days. We said we was gonna give Vivvy a send-off that the East End would remember and talk about for years to come, but we didn’t mean like this.’

CHAPTER NINE

Eddie Mitchell felt his heartbeat accelerate as he clocked the parcel sitting on the step. Even without even opening it, he knew what would be inside. Same packaging, same printed writing, and delivered by hand like the last one was.

Two weeks had passed since Vivian Harris’s funeral, and for once the police had come up trumps. An anonymous phone call had led them to a garage in Forest Gate. The van was inside, and when the Turks came back that very same evening, they were immediately surrounded by armed police. They’d since been charged and sent to Belmarsh prison to await their trial. The Old Bill reckoned it was a foregone conclusion they’d get a ‘Guilty’ verdict as their DNA was all over the vehicle, and they’d even recovered the masks.

Eddie had breathed a massive sigh of relief on hearing the news of the arrests. With the new casino due to open soon, he hadn’t wanted a war on his hands. Especially a war he’d had sod-all to do with in the bloody first place. Stuart’s death still needed to be avenged, mind, and Eddie was hoping he could pay somebody to do the dirty work for him. He had a lot of contacts in Belmarsh, and was sure there would be an opportunity in the future to get at those Turkish bastards. He would make it his mission in life, if need be. That, and keeping the rest of his family safe from now on. You only got so many reprieves in his world, and his close brush with death earlier this year had forced Eddie to see life in a whole new light. It was a gift, something sacred, and he was now determined to see all his kids grow up and get married.

He was about to open the dreaded parcel, when his phone rang. ‘Everything all right, Joey? How’s she doing today?’

Gina was having none of it when he’d suggested Frankie and the kids stay at theirs for a while. His wife had told him that Brett could stay for as long as he wanted, but under no circumstances would she ever allow Aaron and Rosie to sleep under the same roof as Georgie and Harry. Frankie was currently struggling to look after herself, let alone the devil’s spawn, so Joey had stayed at hers since Stuart’s death. There was no other solution at this moment in time.

‘We had plenty of tears again this morning, but thankfully she seems to have perked up this afternoon. Little Vinny rang earlier, and invited Frankie and the kids over to his tomorrow. She didn’t want to go at first, but I managed to talk her into it and she called him back. It’ll do her the world of good to talk to somebody who is going through the same thing as she is. Even worse, in Little Vinny’s case, as he lost Oliver as well. When I spoke to him, he said he was worried about his lads. One of his sons has just come out of some youth detention centre, and both boys are understandably missing their mum and brother. He seems to think the brats’ company will perk them up, which I can’t quite understand,’ Joey Mitchell explained.

‘Little Vinny’s youngest stabbed his teacher, so I’m sure he and Harry’ll get along just fine,’ Eddie replied sarcastically. ‘Did Frankie drink again last night?’

‘Yes, but only about a bottle and a half of wine. No vodka, which is an improvement on last week. I can’t stop her, Dad. She reckons it’s the only way she can sleep. We have to hope that, now the funeral is over, she’ll knock it on the head.’

‘The devil’s spawn been playing her up?’

‘Nope. Been in their bedroom most of the day. Georgie has even offered to cook us dinner one evening. Although I might pass on that for fear of her poisoning me.’

Eddie managed a weak chuckle. ‘Cheers for staying with her, Joey. Dunno what I’d do without you at times. You truly are a star.’

‘Thanks. But as I told you at the funeral, I can’t stay here forever, Dad. Dom needs me too. We spoke last night, sorted a lot of stuff out, and I promised him I’d go home next week.’

Alarmed, Eddie Mitchell rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘But Frankie can’t be left on her own, son. How’s she meant to cope? It’s far too soon.’

‘Perhaps you can stay with her for a while? Or let Gary take his turn at playing the caring brother? I’m not being funny, Dad, but I’m not going to balls-up my life while everybody else seems to be getting on with theirs.’

‘You know what a needy notright Gary’s married to. She ain’t gonna let him stay at Frankie’s now they’ve got their first nipper on the way. And Gina needs me at home. Aaron and Rosie are a handful at times. Can’t Dominic stay at Frankie’s with you? She likes him and that might cheer her up.’

‘No, Dad, he can’t. You know what a piss-taking, homophobic piece of work Harry is. I’m not putting Dom through any more of his snide remarks. I suggest you put your foot down with Gina. Either tell her you to have to stay with Frankie, or insist Frankie and the kids stay at yours. Frankie should come before Gina. She’s your daughter.’

Mumbling, ‘And you’re her fucking twin,’ Eddie ended the call and opened the package. As he’d thought, it wasn’t a ‘Good Luck with Your New Venture’ present from Harrods. Instead he found two dead pigeons and another bible quote:

DEUTERONOMY 19:18–21

THE JUDGES SHALL INVESTIGATE THOROUGHLY, AND IF THE WITNESS IS A FALSE WITNESS AND HE HAS ACCUSED HIS BROTHER FALSELY, THEN YOU SHALL DO TO HIM JUST AS HE INTENDED TO DO TO HIS BROTHER. THUS YOU SHALL PURGE THE EVIL FROM AMONG YOU. THE REST WILL HEAR AND BE AFRAID, AND WILL NEVER DO SUCH AN EVIL THING AMONG YOU. THUS YOU SHALL NOT SHOW PITY. LIFE FOR LIFE, EYE FOR EYE, TOOTH FOR TOOTH, HAND FOR HAND, FOOT FOR FOOT.

Bemused, Eddie put the lid back on the box. If the Turks were locked up, it couldn’t be them sending this weird shit. So who the hell was it?

Firing up the ignition, Vinny Butler turned to his son. ‘You did Sammi-Lou and Oliver extremely proud. Your speech was phenomenal.’ Today Sammi-Lou and Oliver had been laid to rest, and Vinny was so proud of the way his son had behaved since their deaths. He hadn’t fallen to pieces as Vinny had feared, and it was his son who’d contacted him to apologize for the silly argument they’d had at the hospital.

‘Cheers, Dad,’ Little Vinny replied, before ordering his sons to fasten their seatbelts. The authorities had cut the rest of Regan’s sentence. He’d been due home soon anyway, so it was no big deal to them. It was to Little Vinny though. He’d achieved something Sammi-Lou had long craved.

Being banged up had changed Regan somewhat. He’d matured whilst away, shot up in height and acted far older now than a twelve-year-old. Vinny Butler liked the new Regan. Suddenly he saw him as a chip off the old block. ‘You OK, lads?’ Vinny asked. Both his grandsons had cried briefly today, but considering the dreadful circumstances, they’d held their emotions in check brilliantly. Regan had even stood up and bravely read a poem he’d written himself about his mum and brother.

‘We’re OK. Can me and Cal order a pizza when we get home? We’re starving now,’ Regan replied. There would have been plenty of food at the wake, but because it was being held at Sammi-Lou’s parents’ house, his father hadn’t wanted to go. Granddad Gary had been acting arsey lately; it all came to a head at the vigil when he told Regan: ‘You’ve been a terrible son. Put your mother through hell, you did.’ Little Vinny had flipped and punched Gary Allen in the face. ‘Ever talk to my boy like that again, you’ll have my dad to answer to, cunt,’ he’d yelled, before storming out, dragging Regan and Calum with him.

‘How did you leave it with the Allens?’ Vinny asked his son. ‘I saw you chatting to Meg outside the church.’

‘I told her she’s welcome to see the boys whenever, but Gary needs to calm down before I’m allowing him contact with ’em. Ball’s in their court now. Calum and Regan are Butlers, whether Gary likes that or not, and I won’t allow him to drag our name through the mud. I know he’s upset and angry, but aren’t we all? I dug you out at the hospital, but soon realized the error of my ways and apologized. Best Gary does the same, eh? He needs to treat me and the boys with a bit more respect if he wants to be part of Calum and Regan’s future.’

Vinny put the palm of his hand on the back of his son’s neck. ‘I can’t tell you how fucking proud of you I am these days. Whatever happened to the skinhead delinquent that used to knock about with that muppet Ben Bloggs, eh?’

Shuddering as he thought of Ben, then Molly, Little Vinny turned the volume on the radio up.

Queenie Butler put the kettle on. Sammi-Lou and Oliver had been laid to rest together. Queenie had been dreading the actual funeral and had cried buckets. She still couldn’t believe she would never see Ollie’s handsome face again or hear that cheery voice of his, but he and Sammi had been given a nice send-off and thankfully it had gone off without a hitch.

Plonking Michael’s mug on the coffee table, Queenie pursed her lips. ‘So what’s happening with your love life, Don Juan?’ She’d been fuming on learning he was seeing Bella again, but because of everything that had happened since, had been unable to give her son a hard time about it. She’d had more important things on her mind.

‘Do we have to talk about my love life? I’m a walking car crash when it comes to women. The one thing I do know is, I do not and have never loved Katy Spencer.’

‘Should of thought of that before you shoved your dingle-dangle up her and got her pregnant twice! I hope you’re popping back to Tunbridge Wells still. You can’t abandon Nathan. That boy needs a father.’ Queenie purposely didn’t mention her granddaughter Ellie. She had very little time for that spoiled brat. Its mother’s double, that one was.

‘I saw Nathan and Ellie last week, and I’m gonna drive down to Tunbridge Wells again tomorrow. I tried to tell Katy me and her were over, but she’ll do anything to keep me trotting back there once a week and staying overnight. Including turning the kids against me, blackmailing them to make me feel guilty, and threatening to move to France with them to live with her parents, who she doesn’t even get on with.’

‘She knows a good thing when she sees it, that’s why. Once a gold-digger always a gold-digger. And what about the other one? Still Alfie-ing it up round there, are you?’ Michael had always been one for the ladies, even at an early age. That’s why Queenie had many years ago nicknamed him after Michael Caine’s character in the film Alfie.

‘It’s complicated, Mum. I know you hate her, but I will always have feelings for Bella. We were truly happy once, and we’re both so proud of Camila. There’s a lot of water under the bridge though, and Antonio to contend with. No way will I be jumping in feet first. I’m just gonna take things slowly and see how it goes.’

Coughing at the same time she said the word ‘Slut’, Queenie asked after Camila before chatting about the funeral. ‘Hope I’m never forced to be in that Gary Allen’s company again. See the face on it? Needs a stocking of hot shit slapped around his clock, he does. I mean, Little Vinny fell over backwards to accommodate his and Meg’s wishes. He even allowed the dead bodies of Oliver and Sammi to be gawped at by all and sundry at the Allens’ house. And we had to listen to all that Catholic claptrap today, being sprayed with that bastard holy water. That boy was a Butler, should be buried alongside our family.’

‘Little Vinny did what he thought was best. Meg Allen wanted Sammi to be buried near her nan, and Little Vinny was adamant Oliver be buried with Sammi-Lou. That cemetery isn’t exactly a million miles away, Mum. I’ll drive you over there whenever you want.’

Queenie shook her head vehemently, and in a flippant tone replied,‘Nah. Don’t bother. I’m not a Catholic. Would rather stick with me own.’

Vinny Butler was stunned to say the least. Neither he nor Eddie had expected to receive any more unwanted parcels. They’d put the earlier ones down to the Turks. ‘I dunno what to say to you, mate. I’m just as gobsmacked as you. Perhaps you were right in the beginning? You know, about the pikeys sending ’em.’

Eddie Mitchell was in a Scotch-fuelled, extremely bad mood. ‘Nah. What if there are more Turks queuing up to shoot us, Vin? Just because those three fucktards are locked up doesn’t mean to say we’re in the clear. And this shit has sod-all to do with me in the first place, does it?’

Vinny ran his fingers through his dark Brylcreemed hair. ‘No, it doesn’t, Ed. But who’s to say this crap we keep getting sent was anything to do with the Turks in the first place? Could be any nutter sending such shit, and those bible quotes get more wacky by the fucking delivery. Not knocking you, but neither of us have been angels in our time, so it could be aimed at both or either of us. What I suggest is that tomorrow, we get some cameras put up outside. CCTV will catch the bastards.’

Eddie slammed his glass against the table. ‘Bar the O’Haras, I’ve kept myself out of the firing line for years. I really don’t need agg like this at my age, mate. I’ve got young kids and a wife I adore. I would never have agreed to our business venture in the first place had I known we’d be having this conversation now. I’ve just lost one of my best men thanks to you, Vin, and I don’t intend on losing any more. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do, shall I? I will insure this gaff up to the hilt and, on my kids’ lives, any more grief, I will set fire to the cunt personally. Get my drift?’

‘Mum, what was I like when I was little?’

Frankie Mitchell managed a weak smile. Georgie had certainly warmed towards her since Stuart’s death, even though she still spent most of her time holed up in the bedroom with Harry. ‘You were always headstrong, wasn’t she, Joey? Do you remember that time she ran away from that pub? You gave us a real fright.’

Georgie giggled. ‘Where did I go?’

‘You were found up a tree, if I remember correctly,’ Joey informed his niece.

‘And you were such a fussy eater, you’d turn your nose up at most things. The one thing you would always eat though were those tinned sausages with baked beans. They were your favourite.’

Georgie shuddered. ‘Nanny Alice says you should never eat meat out of tins. She says the animal needs to be recently killed.’

Frankie topped up her glass of wine. Alcohol had become her friend these past couple of weeks, helped to lessen the feelings of pure panic that would wash over her. The police had refused to release Stuart’s body immediately; therefore his funeral had only taken place yesterday. It had been terribly sad, and without drinking half a litre of vodka beforehand, Frankie would have been unable to attend.

‘You look sad again, Mum. You thinking about Stuart?’ Georgie enquired.

Frankie plastered a fake smile on her face. ‘No. I’m thinking about our day out tomorrow. Calum’s dad rung up earlier and invited us over. You’ll get to meet Regan, Calum’s brother, too. And if you promise to come back and look after Harry, you can go out and play there.’

Georgie wanted to laugh at her mother’s use of the word ‘play’. How old did she think she and Harry were, five? Instead, she smiled sweetly. ‘I promise, Mum.’

Georgie O’Hara could not help but smirk as she skipped up the stairs to tell her brother the news. She currently had her mother in the palm of her hand, and that was exactly where she wanted her.

Eddie Mitchell handed Vinny a drink. He’d calmed down a bit now, having flown off the handle earlier. He hadn’t apologized to his business partner though. Eddie wasn’t a man who used the word ‘sorry’ very often, he never had been. ‘Did Oliver and Sammi have a good send-off, mate?’

Vinny shrugged. ‘As well as could be expected. Gary Allen had a face like a smacked arse throughout, refused to speak to any of my family. But I suppose that was to be expected. Little Vinny held himself together well, so did Calum and Regan.’

‘What about your mum and Michael?’

‘They’re OK. Us Butlers are professional fucking mourners now, the amount of deaths we’ve had to deal with. How about Stuart’s?’ Vinny asked. With both funerals within a day of one another, he and Eddie had decided to just attend their own family’s rather than each other’s.

Eddie sighed. ‘It was sad, Stuart’s mum was in bits. Nice woman, she is. I’ll keep in touch with her, bung her a few quid ’ere and there. It’s the least I can do, really.’

‘Was Frankie OK?’

‘She’d been boozing and fell arse over tit on top of some of the floral tributes, but apart from being tearful, she got through it better than I thought she would. The devil’s spawn didn’t come. I told Frankie I didn’t want ’em there in case they upset Stu’s mum. I sent a couple of the lads round Frankie’s to watch over them. Brett wanted to be there though. Loved Stuart, he did. I feel sorry for that poor little sod. He’s been living with us the past couple of weeks, don’t wanna go home. He’s great with my Aaron and Rosie, helps Gina out, so she’s happy for him to stop there.’

‘I hear your Frankie’s going round my boy’s tomorrow. Little Vinny belled her this morning.’

‘Yeah, Joey said. Be good for them to chat. And for the kids to have a muck around together. Similar ages, the kids, eh?’

‘Be even better if my boy and your girl start hitting it off. That would be some wedding, eh? A Butler and Mitchell one.’

Eddie looked at Vinny in amazement. ‘I wouldn’t order your suit just yet. My Frankie was well in love with Stuart, and he’s only been dead five minutes.’

‘So was Little Vinny with Sammi-Lou. But neither can be brought back from the dead, mate. Life goes on, so they say …’

CHAPTER TEN

‘Please come with me, Joey. I don’t think I can go on my own,’ Frankie Mitchell begged. Apart from Stuart’s funeral and a few sneaky trips to the local off-licence, she had not ventured outside the house since her fiancé’s death. Now she was in her brother’s car on her way to Little Vinny’s, and the thought of being left alone there terrified her.

‘You know I can’t come with you, sis. Dom has taken the day off work for one reason: so he and I can spend it together. Little Vinny is a nice guy. He’ll look after you.’

‘Divvy dinlo whore,’ Harry whispered in his sister’s ear. Joey drove a red Mazda sports car and he and Georgie were all but crushed in the small space behind the seats.

Georgie pinched her brother as hard as she could. Harry could not see the wood for the trees at times, whereas she most certainly could. ‘It’ll be OK, Mum. I’ll look after you too,’ Georgie promised.

Frankie stared at her trembling hands while taking deep breaths to try and control the panic. She’d often gone out, once upon a time, but since Stuart’s death leaving the house felt like a big deal. It scared her. Thankfully she’d had the foresight to sneak some vodka into her handbag. ‘Can we stop at a garage or somewhere? I’m busting to do a wee,’ she lied. As far as her brother was aware, she only drank wine of an evening now to help her sleep, and what he didn’t know couldn’t worry him.

Joey squeezed his sister’s hand. ‘’Course we can.’

Queenie Butler was done up to the nines. Her bright red cashmere jacket was thin, flowing and to the knee, and her new black ankle boots with a three-inch heel were very modern and suited her. Vinny had told her that only yesterday. ‘Mum, you look more like fifty-four than seventy-four in that get-up. Really suits you,’ he’d said when she’d shown him the outfit she planned to wear today.

As per usual, Joyce was done up like a dog’s dinner. She had a thing for animal prints and Queenie thought the long coat she had on today looked as common as muck. Her blonde bouffant hairstyle didn’t do her any favours either. She stood out like a beacon in Lakeside.

‘You know who you remind me of,’ Joyce said. They were currently sitting outside a little coffee shop.

‘No. Go on.’

‘Barbara Windsor. Minus the big knockers, of course,’ Joyce laughed.

‘I don’t look sod-all like Barbara Windsor. She wears wigs, for starters. I read that in Bella magazine the other day,’ Queenie snapped. ‘You remind me of someone too. It’ll come to me in a minute.’

‘Yootha Joyce?’

‘You look a bit like Yootha, but it’s not her I’m trying to think of. Me and Viv used to adore George and Mildred. Don’t make ’em like that any more do they? Nor Love Thy Neighbour. The world’s gone politically-correct-fucking-mad,’ Queenie said bitterly. ‘As for the music these days, don’t even get me started. Ava had some shit blaring out in my house the other day. I said to her, “You can turn that bleedin’ racket off.” She said, “But it’s Shaggy, Nan.” Who’s Shaggy when he’s at home, eh? I couldn’t even understand what the bastard was singing. I mean, what happened to the likes of Kay Starr and Johnnie Ray?’

Breaking into Johnnie Ray’s ‘Cry’, Joyce spotted an awful sight and stopped singing. ‘State of that over there. Has she not got a mirror indoors? Look at the fat hanging out over the top of those tracksuit bottoms. You think she’d wear a long baggy top, not a belly one, wouldn’t you? It’s enough to put you off your lunch.’

Queenie Butler felt melancholy as she nibbled at the scone and sipped her tea. Gone were the days when women would take pride in their appearance like they had on a Saturday down the Roman back in the day. Used to be like a contest, that did, to see who could get glammed up the most. This was her first trip to Lakeside shopping centre since Vivian had died, and she and her sister had spent many a happy day here.

‘Nice of your Michael to give us a lift, wasn’t it? Handsome sons you have, Queenie,’ Joycie Smith said.

‘Thanks, lovey. They’re always well turned out. I drummed that in ’em as kids.’

‘Eddie said you lost a daughter as well. What happened to her? I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Nah, it’s fine. Got stabbed, my Brenda did. Another one murdered in cold blood. To be honest, I doubt she’d be alive now anyway. She was an alcoholic – had her father’s genes.’

‘That’s tragic. Did they catch her killer? Poor you, Queen.’

‘No. Never caught him. Jake Jackson his name was and he fled abroad. Could be anywhere in the bleedin’ world now.’

‘Was it a random attack?’ Joycie enquired.

‘No. My boys had run-ins with Jake’s father and grandfather many years ago. Still doesn’t explain why the little shit targeted Brenda though. Too cowardly to have a pop at the men, I suppose.’

‘You never get over it, do you? Not a single day goes past I don’t miss and think about my Jessica.’

‘I rarely think about Brenda any more, to be honest. She was her father’s daughter all right.’

‘Aww, was she close to Albie then?’

‘No. Brenda hated him as much as I do. Now drink your tea, Joycie. It’s getting cold. Nice scones these, aren’t they?’

Little Vinny and Frankie Mitchell were sitting in the garden. The autumn weather was breezy, but the sun was shining and the birds could be heard tweeting away in the surrounding trees.

‘Peaceful out here, isn’t it? Sammi loved this garden. I was thinking of planting something and making some kind of shrine to her and Oliver down the bottom.’

‘I think that’s a lovely idea. It just doesn’t seem possible that we are never going to see them again, does it? I keep expecting Stuart to walk through the door any minute, laughing and joking as he always did.’

Little Vinny nodded. ‘I know where you’re coming from, and even though people mean well, nobody really understands, do they? My mate Finn’s been great. He pops round most days, but I find it difficult to open up to him, and my family. My dad’s had too many deaths to deal with over the years, made him as hard as nails. And my nan’s the same. They haven’t got a sentimental bone left in their bodies.’

‘I feel the same. The nights are the worst. I can’t sleep unless I’m bladdered. My dad sent a private doctor round to me recently. I think he thought I was gonna top myself, so he gave me some pills. They haven’t helped much though. Then he suggested I have counselling, but I can’t be talking to strangers. Makes me feel uncomfortable. Have you been drinking or taking any pills?’

‘Nah. I daren’t. Got a bit of an addictive personality, me. I don’t do anything by halves, and I made a promise to Sammi-Lou that I would be strong and take care of Calum and Regan for her.’

‘Awww, that’s lovely. Did you speak about stuff like this then when Sammi was alive? Me and Stuart didn’t and I wish we had now.’

‘No. I made Sammi the promise when she was dead. Excuse me a tick. Gotta pop to the loo, then I’ll top your glass up. You’re not in a hurry to get home, are you? I wasn’t in a cooking mood, so thought we’d order a Chinese later. The shop opens at six and it’s the boys’ favourite.’

‘We’re not in no rush. I do hope Georgie and Harry don’t run away again though. I always worry when they’re out of my sight. How far away is the park?’

‘It’s only local. Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.’

Georgie O’Hara was in fact more than fine. Regan Butler had a cocky confidence about him, a quality she had only ever seen amongst travelling lads, and she could not take her eyes off him. He looked much older than twelve, was as tall as Calum, and he reminded Georgie of a young Elvis Presley. Nanny Alice had always had the hots for Elvis, said she would have married him instead of Granddad Jimmy, given the chance.

Sporting a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, Regan Butler glanced out the corner of his eye. He was aware of Georgie O’Hara’s interest in him, and the effect he had on girls. He’d sampled his first French kiss at the age of eight, and before he’d got banged up, had shoved his hand inside fourteen-year-old Sally Parker’s knickers. ‘What you looking at?’ he asked.

Harry O’Hara burst out laughing. Regan was aloof and stroppy like himself and he preferred him to Calum already. He was also annoyed with his sister for her continuous flirting. She had a boyfriend, and he liked Ryan Maloney a lot. Georgie shouldn’t be dressing like a slag, or acting like one. It was all wrong.

Calum Butler scowled at Regan. ‘Don’t talk to Georgie like that. She’s a decent girl, bruv.’

‘I never said she wasn’t. I only asked her what she was looking at.’

Red-faced, Georgie marched her stupid brother out of earshot. ‘Do you want to go back to Scotland and live with our real family again?’

‘Yeah, you know I do.’

‘Well shut the fuck up then. I know what I’m doing, Harry, you dinlo.’

Little Vinny poked his head around the lounge door. The kids had returned from the park as good as gold earlier, and were now playing games on the massive TV that was bracketed on the wall.

‘I’ve never heard Georgie or Harry laugh like that before. What they up to?’ Frankie asked.

‘It’s some dance game where you have to copy the moves. Regan won’t play it, sees himself as too cool. They’ve asked to get the karaoke machine out now, so prepare to be deafened. Regan can sing really well. Calum ain’t got a bad voice either. I sound like a cat being tortured, me, so they obviously have Sammi to thank for their musical talent.’

‘I have no idea if Georgie or Harry can sing – I know so little about them still. I do remember Georgie loving country music as a little girl. She knew all the words to the songs. Her bastard of a father taught her them. Was Sammi your actual first love, Vin? Or did you date beforehand?’

‘Sammi was my first serious girlfriend. I just knew as soon as I met her that she was the one, but we had our ups and downs like any young couple. I worked in my dad’s club in Whitechapel at the time, and I remember getting cold feet at one point ’cause she kept turning up there. How times change, eh? I’d give my right arm for her to walk in this kitchen right now. And Oliver.’

‘I wonder if they’re looking down on us? I’m sure Sammi and Stuart would want us to be friends, don’t you think?’

‘For sure. You’re the only person I’ve been able to open up to since, and Sammi would be so pleased that the boys have brightened up today. They were sad and quiet leading up to the funeral. That’s why I belled you yesterday morning. Was trying to think of ways to cheer them up.’

‘My dad reminded me your little sister got murdered years ago too. Same happened to my granddad you know. It was Jed that killed him. Broke in my dad’s—’

‘Enough of deaths, eh, Frankie?’ Little Vinny abruptly barked. No way did he want to discuss Molly. He then forced a smile. ‘Let’s join in with the kids’ karaoke, shall we?’

Back in Lakeside, a few sheets to the wind, Queenie was opening up about Daniel and Roxanne’s incestuous relationship. She’d dragged Joycie to the pub the other side of Brompton Walk by the lake.

‘So Roxanne never had a clue that Daniel was her brother?’ Joyce Smith asked again. Queenie was unsettled after bumping into a friend of Roxanne’s outside Debenhams. Alex had been a bridesmaid at the ill-fated wedding and Queenie had believed her when she’d sworn blind she had not heard a word from Roxanne since.

‘No. I’ve told you that three bloody times! Neither Roxanne nor Daniel knew one another even existed. But you must never tell anyone, Joycie. When it all kicked off at the wedding, my family told everybody there was a mix-up. I mean, incest isn’t something you can live down, is it? The police even visited us you know, to ask what had happened. Them nosy bastards would’ve had a ball if they’d had proof, so would the bloody press. Saw a programme on TV recently about another brother and sister who fell in love. It’s called “Genetic Sexual Attraction”.’

‘I’ve never heard of it, Queen, but I know sod-all about sexual attraction of any kind. Only ever slept with Stanley and he weren’t exactly Marlon Brando back in the day. We’ve slept in separate beds ever since the kids were born. I can’t be waking up looking at that bald head and ugly face every morning. Turns my stomach, it does.’

The comment lightened Queenie’s mood. ‘Exactly the same as me and Albie. The only time I used to let him anywhere near me was when I wanted another child. Coming home pissed at all hours and snoring – made him kip on the sofa, I did.’

‘What did Albie look like when you first met him? Bet he had more going for him than my Stanley.’

Queenie shrugged. ‘Albie was a looker back in the day, I suppose. That’s why I chose him, to be truthful. My old neighbour Doreen was a few years older than me. I used to look up to her as a kid, until she married Freddie Watts. Looked like he’d fallen out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, he did. I’ll never forget seeing her son for the first time. Ugliest baby I ever did see. Looked like an alien. It scared me.’

When Joycie started guffawing and banging her empty glass against the table, Queenie couldn’t help but laugh too. She’d been racking her brain ever since she’d met Joyce as to whom she reminded her of, and it had just this minute occurred to her. Joyce was a ringer for that famous cook her and Vivian used to laugh at on TV back in the day: Fanny Cradock.

Frankie Mitchell clapped as Calum Butler finished his rendition of Eminem’s ‘My Name Is’. She would never have believed her children could mix so well with others, but Georgie and Harry had taken a real shine to Calum and Regan. It was a joy and relief to witness their happiness and laughter for once. They always seemed so miserable at home and had never enjoyed anything she and Stuart had organized for them.

Little Vinny was sitting on the opposite sofa, and when he playfully grabbed Regan in a headlock and threatened to sing again unless his son did, Frankie found herself joining in with her children’s laughter. Sammi-Lou had described her husband as ‘a brilliant father’ who had ‘a unique way with kids’ and she’d been spot on. Little Vinny was a natural.

Eddie Mitchell wasn’t having the best of days. His daughter Rosie had sicked up all over the back of his new Range Rover earlier. Then, minutes later, some dopey tart had pulled out of a side turning and pranged into him. Now, to crown it all, he’d been summoned to Lakeside to pick up an inebriated Joycie and Queenie, who had somehow managed to get themselves into a state only two teenage girls could dream of.

‘Where’s my Vinny?’ Queenie asked again. She’d tried both her sons’ numbers for at least an hour before Joyce suggested they ring Eddie to pick them up. Even Little Vinny wasn’t answering his bloody phone.

‘Queen, grab hold of the other side of Joycie, will ya? This is embarrassing, love,’ Eddie spat as he saw yet another crowd of kids looking their way and laughing their heads off. He’d virtually had to drag the woman he would always refer to as his mother-in-law through the shopping centre like a rag doll, and he prayed no bastard recognized him. Everyone was looking and laughing, such was the state Joyce had got herself in. And Queenie was unsteady too.

‘Put your arm around me shoulder, Joycie. We’re giving all these old trollops down ’ere something to gawp at, that’s for sure,’ Queenie bellowed, much to Eddie’s horror.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only in fact twenty minutes, Eddie finally had both women belted up in the back of his Range Rover.

‘Sorry for being tipsy and having to ring you, but my Raymond’s useless, you know that, Ed? You’re a far better son to me than he is and we’re not even blood-related, are we? It was the shock of finding out Queenie’s granddaughter might be going to give birth to her grandson’s baby what made us go to the pub in the first place, weren’t it, Queen?’

‘Yep! And where is my Vinny, by the way? Bet I can guess why Michael has his phone switched off. Fornicating with that Italian slapper, I dare say. More fool him, eh, Eddie? I bet you wouldn’t go back with a woman who’d had your brother’s dingle-dangle up her, would you? Makes me feel sick.’

‘Dingle-dangle! I love that bloody word. Used to call my Stanley’s a “tinky-winky”,’ Joycie shrieked.

Listening to his musical idol belt out a tune or two was far preferable to listening to two old-age pensioners discuss a man’s anatomy, so Eddie cranked the volume up as loud as it would go.

Queenie and Joycie knew all the words to ‘Maggie May’ and sang along quite happily.

‘Now Rod I could’ve quite easily fancied,’ Joyce shouted in Queenie’s ear.

Queenie ignored Joycie and instead tapped Eddie on the shoulder. Ed turned the music down and before Queenie could ask him the same question again, told her, ‘Vinny’s fine. I saw him earlier. But as I’ve already told you, I have no idea what his plans are for this evening.’

‘Yes, you do. I might be knocking on a bit, but I haven’t lost my marbles yet. My Vinny’s got a bird on the firm, can tell by the shady way he’s been acting recently. Nobody knows him better than his mother. So what’s she like then? Come on, spill the beans, Mr Mitchell.’

Georgie O’Hara was most impressed. After much persuasion from his father, Regan had finally agreed to sing and he had a superb voice. Georgie had heard many a travelling lad croon an Elvis tune, including her own boyfriend, but Regan’s version of ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’ was truly captivating. That was Nanny Alice’s favourite Elvis song too.

Harry leaned towards his sister. ‘Put your tongue away. Flies might breed on it.’

Georgie punched her brother hard. Harry had been acting up today and was now grating on her immensely. ‘You sure you’re not a gay boy like Joey? Only you seem very obsessed with Regan yourself.’

Homosexuality was extremely frowned upon among travellers and when Harry lost his rag, like she knew he would, Georgie slapped him around the head before following her mother into the kitchen. ‘What’s a matter? You’re crying.’

Fiercely wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Frankie smiled. ‘Take no notice of me. Just having a weak moment. Been a nice day, hasn’t it? I’m so pleased you and Harry have made friends.’

‘We would’ve made friends ages ago if you hadn’t locked us up. And we love music. We used to sing regularly back home. Travellers don’t watch TV all the time like gorgers do. We sing and play music lots.’

Frankie knew the travelling way of life as well as anybody. Jed had loved to sing, and it was the norm that when families got together, everybody including the children would be urged to belt out a tune. ‘How about I ask your granddad to buy you one of those karaoke machines? You and Harry can have it in your bedroom and play with it whenever you want.’

Exasperated, Georgie snatched her hands away. ‘We’re not five! We don’t play with things. And how would you play with a karaoke machine anyway? You can’t! You sing along with the music. We don’t want one in our bedroom either. Other people need to join in to make it any fun and we live in the middle of nowhere with no friends.’

When her daughter stomped out the kitchen, Frankie topped up her wine glass. Then the tears came. Joey had told her last night that he needed to move back home next week and she had no idea how she would cope alone. Georgie was right: their house was in the middle of nowhere, but her dad had chosen it because its remoteness would make it more difficult for the children to escape. Now, however, it held far too many memories of Stuart and it was too big and cold. She realized she’d come to loathe the place with a passion.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Little Vinny asked.

‘Everything. I can’t do wrong from right when it comes to my children, and I do try my best. Joey’s moving back home next week and I’m never gonna cope. Georgie and Harry hate it where we live and so do I. My youngest son doesn’t even want to come home, he’d rather live at my dad’s. And I keep expecting Stuart to walk in all the time. I even imagined I heard his footsteps the other day, coming up to bed.’

‘Perhaps you should think about moving. You’re only renting, aren’t you?’

Frankie nodded. ‘My dad’s paying the rent and he’s shelling out for those security blokes. I hate seeing them all the time too. They give me the heebies. But the lease isn’t due to end until next year, and I can’t stay there that long. Between me and you, once Joey goes home, I’m afraid I might get drunk one day and do something stupid. I don’t think I would, ’cause I love my kids too much, but then I get these dark moods and I just don’t want to be in this world any more. Life is shit, Vin, it really is. We must go to a better place when we die, surely?’

‘Things will get better, Frankie. I’ve been through dark times in the past – and I mean really dark – but I’ve managed to pull through. If it wasn’t for the boys, I could never cope with Sammi-Lou and Oliver dying. But I’ve got to be strong and so have you. We have children who rely on us.’

‘You might have. I don’t. I’m sure those two in there would celebrate if I died.’

Little Vinny sighed. He wasn’t very good with awkward hugs or sympathetic words, but he was good with advice. ‘That isn’t going to do you any favours, for a start,’ he said, pointing to the wine glass. ‘Neither is locking your kids up in that prison you call home. Your dad isn’t short of a few bob, Frankie, and I know he’d want you to be happy. If I were you, I’d try out the counselling thing, and move over this way. It’s nice round ’ere, and central. I’ll have a word with Finn if you like? His pal is a local estate agent and I’m sure he’d be able to help.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, ’course. Be nice for my kids to hang out with yours. I’ve also decided not to send Regan back to school, I’m gonna get someone in to teach him from home instead. He’s always got in trouble at school and I can’t risk him being sent away again. Not many schools will want to take him anyway, after what happened. Perhaps they can teach Georgie and Harry as well.’

‘Oh, Vin! That would be wonderful. Even if they could just learn to read and write, it would make me so bloody happy. And it will open up a whole new world to them. They’d love to live near Calum and Regan, I know they would. Shall I tell them the good news now?’

‘Whoa! Hold your horses. Let me speak to Finn’s pal first, and you can have a talk with your dad. Do ya want a coffee? I’m gonna make myself one.’

Frankie was about to reply when she felt the hair freeze on the back of her neck. Georgie not only had a voice like an angel, she was singing Tammy Wynette’s ‘Stand by Your Man’.

‘Wow! Your daughter’s got some voice on her. Let’s go back in the lounge,’ Little Vinny suggested.

Shaking her head, Frankie Mitchell held her face in her hands. ‘I hate this song. It reminds me of Jed. I even lost my virginity to him while it was playing. My life is such a mess, and it’s all my fault. Have you ever done something so wrong it eats away at you like a cancer? So much so, you can never forgive yourself. My mum would still be alive if I’d never met Jed.’

Overwhelmed by visions of himself strangling Molly, Little Vinny handed Frankie her bag. ‘Look, it’s been a long day and I think we should wrap it up now.’

‘But I thought we were going to order a Chinese?’

Little Vinny pulled out his wallet, peeled off a fifty-pound note and handed it to her. ‘I’m tired and need my bed. Get yourself a cab home and grab yourself something to eat on the way.’

Taken aback, Frankie stood speechless as Little Vinny stomped upstairs. She knew she was tipsy and had probably repeated herself once or twice, but she hadn’t said or done anything so wrong she deserved to be chucked out the house, had she?