‘Michael’s the same. He has told me to arrange whatever I want when the time comes and he will foot the bill. Changing the subject, any more news about your dad’s whereabouts, Dean? I meant to ask you earlier.’
‘Nope. He is still on the missing list. My nan has been in bits, but I wish she would stop blaming Vinny. It makes it so awkward for me being with Bren, if you know what I mean?’
‘I know exactly what you mean. I’m in a similar position with my family as you are with your nan. My dad and brother hate the Butlers and have completely washed their hands of me. At least your nan is still talking to you and you can visit her. I’m barred from visiting my family for good,’ Nancy explained, her eyes brimming with tears.
Being a gentleman, Dean put his arms around Nancy and gave her a hug. ‘If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, and you feel awkward discussing your family with Michael, you know where I am.’
Absolutely furious at what was happening not twenty feet in front of her, Brenda broke into a run, caught up with the cuddling couple, then punched her boyfriend hard in the side of his head.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Dean yelled, letting go of Nancy.
‘What do I think I’m doing? It should be me asking you pair that question. Didn’t know I was walking behind you, did you? Are yous two at it behind my back, or what?’ Brenda screamed, her face bright red with fury.
‘Don’t be so fucking stupid. Nancy was upset over the fact that she no longer has contact with her family, and I just gave her a friendly hug,’ Dean explained.
‘Honest, Bren. We’ve just been talking about our weddings. I love Michael, and Dean loves you,’ Nancy added, feeling as awkward as hell as she saw Michael running towards her.
‘What’s a matter?’ Michael asked, putting a protective arm around his fiancée’s shoulders.
When Dean explained what had happened, Michael ordered him and Nancy to walk to the car while he spoke to his sister alone. ‘Are you mental, or what, Bren? I’ve seen you throw your jealousy tantrums in the past which was why Dean probably dumped you in the first place. If you ain’t careful, you will lose him one day for good. Also, don’t you ever insult Nancy again in such a manner, do you hear me?’
Suddenly feeling sorry for herself, Brenda began to cry. ‘I’m sorry, Michael. I just feel so fat and ugly. Nancy is stunning and I can’t help feeling that Dean must wish he was with somebody slim and pretty like her.’
Michael gave his sister an awkward hug. ‘Well, that’s just your own insecurities. Nobody else sees you that way. You need to get a grip and discard that green-eyed monster for good. Jealously is the root of all evil, Bren.’
Vinny had organized a small wake to be held in memory of Karen at the club after the service. He had invited his family, all the staff, and a few regulars to attend. Lenny had been very quiet all day. He had sobbed as loudly as anybody throughout the funeral service and, worried about his cousin, once back at the club, Vinny had taken him into his office to have a quiet word. ‘What’s up, Champ? You haven’t been your usual bubbly self today. Is it the funeral that’s upset you?’
Lenny’s lip wobbled like a small child’s would. ‘Did I kill Karen by giving her that drink, Vinny? Will I go to prison?’
Vinny chuckled and ruffled his cousin’s hair. ‘Of course you didn’t, you daft apeth. Karen died of an overdose of heroin, Champ. That has nothing to do with the drink you gave her at the party. Now, how about you put a big smile on your face and jump up on the DJ stand and play some records in memory of Karen, eh? Karen loved your music, and she would like that, wouldn’t she? She is bound to be looking down from heaven like all dead people do.’
‘Will my dad be looking down and watching me play my records too, Vinny?’
‘Yeah, ’course he will. Your dad will be well proud of you, like we all are.’
As Lenny stood up, then went to dart out of the office, Vinny called him back. ‘And remember, Champ, you must never mention that drink you gave to Karen to anybody apart from me, OK? If the police, Michael, Nancy, your mum, or anyone else ever mentions what happened to Karen at that party, you know nothing, yeah?’
‘Yeah. I know nothing. Love you, Vinny. Going to play my records now.’
Vinny smiled. ‘Love you too, Champ.’
Unable to face going to the club or Karen’s wake after visiting Roy, Queenie and Vivian decided to head straight home.
‘I will never feel the same about that club again, Vivvy. Every time I set foot in it now, it reminds me of the last time I saw my Roy as a normal human being. So happy he was the night of his engagement party. Him and Colleen were like love’s young dream. Anyway, Vinny popped round early this morning, and I told him how I felt about the club. And so he said he would sell it and buy the old one back just for me. He’s a good boy deep down, ain’t he, Vivvy?’
‘Heart of bloody gold. I liked that old club much better, Queen, and I can keep more of an eye on my Lenny there. I used to like popping in there in the daytime to see the boys, didn’t you?’
Surprised to see Michael’s car sitting outside her door as they turned the corner, Queenie didn’t reply. ‘I wonder what my Michael wants? Hope he hasn’t fallen out with Nancy again. Didn’t you say your Lenny saw them arguing earlier or something?’
‘Lenny said Michael looked like he was arguing with Brenda. I’ll come indoors with you. I could do with a large glass of sherry after today, couldn’t you?’
Queenie nodded in agreement. She was parched. ‘You all right, boy? Why haven’t you and Nancy gone to the wake?’ she asked, relieved to see Michael sitting on her sofa holding hands with his wife-to-be.
‘Because I needed to speak to you, Mum. Could you keep Nancy company, Auntie Viv, while me and Mum have a quick chat upstairs? It won’t take long.’
‘’Course I will,’ Vivian said, sitting down next to Nancy and squeezing her hand. Like Queenie, Vivian was a big fan of Michael’s fiancée.
‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Queenie asked. She had known by the look on his face that whatever he had to tell her was important, which is why she had poured herself a glass of sherry to take upstairs.
Michael took a deep breath and then did what he had been dreading for the past few weeks. He handed his mother Albie’s letter.
Queenie glanced at the envelope. ‘That’s your father’s handwriting. Don’t tell me you’ve been in contact with that old bastard, Michael, ’cause I won’t be happy. Where is the lying old toad living?’
Michael stood up. ‘I think you should just read the letter, Mum. I’m gonna wait in my old bedroom while you do so, then give me a shout when you’re done.’
Queenie nodded, waited for Michael to leave the room, then opened the envelope.
Dear Queenie,
Firstly, I would like to apologize about the terrible cancer lie that I told. It was a stupid thing to do, but I swear from the bottom of my heart, I only made such an awful story up to be close to my family once again.
Secondly, I would like to say sorry for cheating on you, but I would like you to know the reasons why I ended up doing the things I did.
When I first met you, Queenie, I felt like the most luckiest bloke alive. I remember you took my breath away on our first date when you wore that smart black dress and red pill-box hat. I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but it took me a good six months to build up the courage to ask for your hand in marriage.
I was ecstatic when you said yes and we finally wed, but I always felt like there was three in our marriage and not two. Vivian was always at our house, which meant we never got to spend much time alone, and I could tell that Vivvy never thought I was good enough for you. She spoke to me like I was a piece of dirt.
When Vinny was born, things seemed to go from bad to worse. You and Vivian wanted to bring my son up between you, and I felt terribly pushed out, which is when I first started to hit the bottle. As each child followed, the more of a spare part I began to feel. I got the impression that you only married me because you wanted to have children, and you had never loved me at all. You turned me from a strong, strapping confident lad into a weak drunken man, Queenie, and you turned my children against me, which is something I will never forgive you for.
Queenie put the letter down beside her and reached for her glass of sherry. There was still another page to read and she needed to pause before she did so. Had she really made Albie feel like that? She had never enjoyed sex much, and unless she was trying to get pregnant, had never really wanted it, but that was usual for a woman, wasn’t it? Vivian had said the same. She didn’t like doing it with her Bill. The pleasure was all the men’s. All the woman could do was lie there and think of bloody England.
Knocking back her drink in three large gulps, Queenie picked the letter up again.
And lastly, but certainly not least, the reason I am writing this letter is because of my concerns about our eldest son. It is my belief that not only is Vinny a time-bomb waiting to explode, but there is a very good chance he will blow everybody else up around him.
Prior to Roy’s engagement party, Vinny paid me a visit in the Blind Beggar. He had found out about my cancer lie by speaking to a doctor who he knew at the hospital. He then proceeded to blackmail me. He insisted that unless I told Colleen’s parents that Roy had cheated on her many times and had been responsible for beating me up and putting me in hospital many years ago, he was going to blow the whistle on me.
At first, out of fright, I agreed to do such a terrible thing. Then, I looked around at the party and saw Roy and Colleen gaze into one another’s eyes like I once used to gaze into yours, Queenie. It was then I decided I could not go through with it.
When I told Vinny my decision, he tried to bribe me with money, and it was when I still refused that he leapt on the stage and told my secret to everybody. Michael will vouch for my story if you do not believe it. I have told him everything.
As a massive favour, I ask that you do not share the contents of this letter with Vinny or anybody else. I just wanted you to be aware of what type of person our eldest son is, so you can guard the backs of yourself, Michael and Brenda in the future. Our grandson needs to be protected too, because if he isn’t, chances are he will grow up to be evil just like his father.
I hope you take heed of my warning, Queenie. As we both know, Roy’s bullet was meant for Vinny and I would hate to see any more casualties. I cannot come back to Whitechapel ever again, as I know my son will have me killed if I do, so it is left to you to sort out this mess. You created a monster, so best you deal with it.
Good luck,
Albie.
Cursing under her breath, Queenie tore the letter into shreds and put it in her bedside drawer. How dare that drunken old bastard not only refer to her wonderful son as a monster, but also have the cheek to blame her for it? Yes, she had encouraged Vinny to make something of himself like the Kray twins had, but that was only because she didn’t want him to have the shit life that she’d had to endure.
Wanting to cry through temper, Queenie forced herself not to, and instead repaired her windswept hair in the mirror and put on some more red lipstick. If Albie was telling the truth about Vinny wanting to split up Roy and Colleen, and that was a big ‘if’ with Albie’s track record, then Vinny must have had good reason to do so.
Her first-born was the heart and soul of the family. He was the one who had put food on the table when Albie had been squandering every penny they had in pubs and on whores. Vinny had always treated and respected her like a shortened version of her name. He had looked upon her as a queen, and no way would Queenie ever turn her back on him. He was even buying his old club back just for her, for Christ’s sake.
With her head held high, Queenie opened the bedroom door. ‘You there, Michael?’ she asked, sprightly.
Michael sheepishly appeared from his old bedroom. ‘Did you read it, Mum?’
‘Yes, and I’ve now ripped it up and thrown it away. Now, this letter never existed, do you understand? And I also forbid you to ever have contact with that bitter, twisted old bastard ever again, OK?’
Feeling sick to the stomach, Michael nodded glumly.
Summer 1976
Queenie Butler got off the District Line train at East Ham and began the fifteen-minute walk that she had become so very used to. Vivian usually accompanied her to visit Roy if she didn’t travel in Vinny or Michael’s car, but today was Lenny’s twentieth birthday, and Vivvy had wanted to take her son out for the day.
Dripping with perspiration due to the sweltering heat, Queenie decided to stop at the White Horse pub for a drink to cool herself down. Usually, she would never venture into a pub alone. In her opinion, the only women that did that were the ones she referred to as Old Toms, but as she and Vivian had got chatting to the landlord on a few occasions, Queenie felt it was OK to pop in there.
‘Hello, love. Can I get you your usual? Where’s your sidekick today?’ the landlord asked chirpily.
‘It’s me sister’s son’s birthday, so she’s spending the day with him. Yep, and I’ll have my usual, please,’ Queenie replied. She and Vivian had become very partial lately to a half of lager and lime. It especially went down a treat in this hot weather.
‘Another scorcher, isn’t it? Bloke came in earlier who has one of them temperature thingamabobs in his house. Ninety-two degrees he reckons it was,’ the landlord informed her.
Queenie was now thoroughly sick of the heat. Her grass was parched, her petunias had wilted and the bastard flying ants made her want to scratch until she bled.
‘Well, it doesn’t look like it’s letting up soon. The man on the news last night said not only was a drought on the horizon, but this summer was destined to become the hottest since records began,’ she replied.
When the landlord disappeared to make a phonecall, Queenie sat down at the table by the window and turned her thoughts to Roy. It still broke her heart to think that her son would never walk again. The doctors had said he had no stability in his trunk, and because of the paralysis down the left-hand side of his body, it was impossible for him to get about any other way than in a wheelchair. When Roy had first left the hospital, he had stayed in a rehabilitation centre for six months that specialized in the aftereffects of brain trauma. The staff had tried to see if Roy could walk or stand with the aid of parallel bars, but he hadn’t been able to. Queenie had hated the few occasions she had watched her son attempt to walk. Roy had cried with frustration every time he was let go and fell to the ground.