‘I want Lee to live here, Daddy,’ Daniel said, excitedly tugging his father’s arm.
‘Well, Nance, the choice is yours. If you don’t want to help look after my son best you pack your bags and leave, love,’ Michael spat. He then picked up his car keys, stormed out the front door, and slammed it so hard it nearly flew off its hinges.
Vinny Butler was not in the best of moods. Even though he had given his son the telling-off of his life, sent two blokes around this morning to mend his mother’s conservatory roof, and replaced her furniture and plants that had been crushed, his mum was still refusing to allow his son to live with her any more.
‘Vinny, when will you take me to see Layla again?
‘Champ, you’ve asked me that same question at least ten times already today and you’re beginning to do my nut in. I promise I will take you to see Layla again soon, OK? Now just leave the subject alone. I’ve got enough on me plate with your Auntie Queenie refusing to let Little Vinny live with her any more. Your sex life is the least of my fucking problems at the moment.’
‘Hey, big boss man. You don’t look happy. What is the matter?’ Ahmed enquired, sauntering into Vinny’s office.
When Lenny sheepishly left the office, Vinny kicked the door shut, took a bottle of Scotch out of his private drinks cabinet and poured a large quantity into two glasses. ‘You got any gear on you?’ he asked Ahmed.
‘I always carry a supply, but it’s a bit early, my friend.’
‘I don’t give a toss how early it is. I’m stressed, so just give it ’ere, mate,’ Vinny demanded.
Two fat lines and three large Scotches later, Vinny felt able to deal with life once more. Ahmed was a good listener, and sometimes saw things far more clearly than he did. ‘Your mum’s hardly going to throw her grandson out on the street. What you need to do is what I did. Find a good woman. It’s their job to look after kids. You want one that asks no questions and lets you get on with your life like my Anna. Karen was a very good mum. I told you at the time you should have kept her on the firm,’ Ahmed reminded his pal. After his initial wedding to an older woman, Ahmed had then married a younger model with whom he had another two children.
Vinny’s sense of humour always escalated after a couple of lines of cocaine and he couldn’t help himself. ‘So, what do you suggest I do? Dig Karen up and try and resuscitate her?’
Ahmed chuckled. ‘You should move Joanna Preston in with you. She can be Vinny’s new mum. Did I ever tell you I actually dug a corpse up once and hid it? A man owed me money and I said he could have his father back when I got my dosh. He paid me the next day.’
Laughing, Vinny poured another Scotch, put his hands on top of his head, and rocked to and fro in his chair. If Joanna Preston had been some fat ugly bitch he would have probably just had her murdered and been done with it. However, once he had seen her photograph, and met her in person, he had decided to gain revenge in a different manner. Vinny had links to Wormwood Scrubs. An old friend of his, Scottish Pat, was on the same wing as Johnny Preston. Scottish Pat said Preston was always banging on about his beautiful daughter to the other lads, but rarely spoke about his son. Pat described the boy as a weirdo, which is why Vinny had decided to target the daughter in the first place.
Ahmed indulged in a line of cocaine himself, then grinned. ‘Well? You’re not saying much.’
Vinny was still mulling over things. Surely being stuck in a cell twenty-plus hours a day knowing that your daughter was being shagged senseless by your very worst enemy was enough to make Preston lose the plot completely? ‘I dunno, mate. I’m sure I can get Joanna into the sack, but that don’t mean I want her to move in with me and bring up my kid, does it? I barely know the fucking bird, and I can’t stand tarts around me at the best of times.’
‘But, there is no need for her to be around you much. Set her up in a flat or house. She can look after Little Vinny while you work and party. You need to knock her up. That way, she is trapped and has no choice but to do as you say. Be nice for you to have one more child, and imagine how upset her cunt of a father will be? That is what you call the ultimate payback, my friend.’
Vinny sipped his drink and contemplated Ahmed’s idea in silence. It seemed madness even to consider trying to impregnate, then move in with, a bird he had only met once, but Vinny had always had an insane, impulsive nature, and the fact that the girl was Johnny Preston’s pride and joy was what made the set-up seem so attractive. That would be the perfect revenge for ruining Roy’s life. ‘Do you know what, I quite like your suggestion now. When do you reckon holiday parks shut down for winter? Gotta be end of September, beginning of October, surely? That gives me at least eight weeks to charm the tits off Preston’s daughter. Then, if all goes to plan, instead of moving back to Tiptree, she can move to London. I might even offer her a job at the club. That should help her make her mind up. She ain’t got no job in Tiptree to go back to, has she?’
‘Her friend will probably want a job too,’ Ahmed stated.
‘Well, if that’s what it takes to get Joanna properly into my clutches, then a job her mate shall have. I can’t just dump Little Vinny on her from day one anyway. The core of a perfect plan is always patience.’
Ahmed laughed. Vinny was the only person he had ever met whose mind was on exactly the same intelligent, evil wavelength as his own.
Under strict instructions from his father to be on his best behaviour, Little Vinny had spent the past few hours tidying up his nan’s back garden. The sun was at a blistering heat, the lawnmower heavy, and by the time he had finished cutting the grass, Little Vinny felt thoroughly exhausted. Trying to mow the lawn with two arms was hard enough, and using just one had really taken its toll on him.
Queenie sat in her conservatory and eyed her grandson suspiciously as he flopped onto the grass. The roof was now mended, and she actually preferred the slightly different design of the new sofa Vinny had bought her. It stood out more than the old one. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re meant to be cutting it, not sunbathing on it,’ Queenie shouted, in a brutal tone.
‘I’ve finished it, Nan. I don’t feel well now. I’m hot, thirsty, and hungry.’
‘You haven’t got a headache, have ya?’
Knowing his nan was obviously worried that he might have concussion from his fall, Little Vinny decided to tell a small white lie. ‘Yeah, a bit, but I think it’s just because I’m really hungry.’
Queenie pursed her lips. ‘Get your arse in here and I’ll do you some lunch then. Do you want one roll or two? I’ve got boiled bacon, luncheon sausage, or cheese.’
‘I’ll have two boiled bacon rolls, a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, and a can of Coke please,’ Little Vinny said, as he darted past his nan and flopped on the sofa in the lounge.
Queenie’s lip curled into a snarl. Her lounge had recently been redecorated, and she was now the proud owner of a posh brown leather three-piece suite and an expensive Persian rug. Both items were a gift from Vinny and there was no way Queenie was allowing her ragamuffin of a grandson to tarnish the new look.
‘You’ll get upstairs, have a wash, and change out of them dirty clothes before you get any lunch,’ Queenie barked.
‘OK, Nan,’ Little Vinny said, dashing up the stairs.
Queenie was buttering the rolls when she heard the front door open. ‘Want a boiled bacon roll, Viv?’ she shouted.
‘No! Get me a brandy, Queen, quick. I’ve just had the most terrible shock.’
‘Whatever’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Queenie remarked, as she hurried to pour her sister a drink.
Vivian snatched the brandy out of her sister’s hand and knocked it back in one. ‘Oh dear Jesus, it was worse than a ghost what I’ve just seen, Queen. I didn’t know my Lenny had come home from work early. He must have got in when I popped around the corner shop. Anyway, I’ve opened his bedroom door because I thought I heard a funny noise, and there he was, standing opposite the mirror, stark bollock naked with his dingle-dangle in his hand. He had his eyes shut and was rambling on about some girl called Lola or Layla.’
‘Oh dear,’ Queenie said, pouring herself a brandy and giving her sister a top-up. ‘What did he say when he saw you standing there?’
‘Well, he opened his eyes, screamed, then started shouting at me to get out of his room. And, he had a great big, you know. No mother should have to see that. It was disgusting.’
‘Erection?’ Queenie enquired.
‘Yes, one of those. Dirty little bastard! Pervert, just like his father was. How am I ever meant to look at him in the same way, eh? And whose bloody Lola or Layla? I don’t think it’s good for him working at that club, you know. Too many women showing their flesh in there. It’s giving him unhealthy ideas.’
‘I shouldn’t think it’s got anything to do with him working at the club, Viv. I mean, he is twenty now, he’s bound to get urges. My Michael used to when he was younger. I remember seeing terrible stuff on his sheets. Your Lenny is bound to feel far more embarrassed than you do. Why don’t you pop back to yours, act like nothing’s happened, and tell him to come in here for a boiled bacon roll?’
‘No way is that filthy little sod coming in here to eat. I bet he ain’t even washed his hands. Made me feel so ill it has, Queen. Wouldn’t pour me another brandy, would ya?’
Queenie nodded. Usually, she knew the best words to appease her sister, but Vivian catching Lenny masturbating was a difficult one, and for once Queenie was slightly lost for words herself.
Back in Barking, Mary was desperate to clear her head and had decided to walk home from Nancy’s house rather than jump on a bus like she usually did. It was only four stops anyway, and she wasn’t ready to face Donald just yet. She wanted to work out exactly what she was going to say to him first.
Nancy had been in a terrible state all day, and Mary was dreadfully worried about her. Mary hadn’t started her own family until she was twenty-two. Her daughter wasn’t even twenty-one yet, and how she was going to cope with three little boys all under the age of five, Mary did not know. Nancy wasn’t a bad mum by any means, but she hadn’t exactly taken to motherhood. She seemed to handle the boys all right when Mary or Michael were there to give her a hand, but when Nancy was home alone, she seemed to get extremely stressed. Daniel and Adam then ran rings around her and, being so young herself still, Nancy allowed the boys to do so, then got depressed about it.
Thinking back to their earlier conversation, Mary sighed anxiously. She had managed to persuade her daughter not to leave Michael, but she wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing. It was one of those six of one, half a dozen of the other situations. Nancy would not be able to cope with Lee and that was a fact.
‘Hi, Mary. You OK?’
Mary had been so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed Dederick and his two brothers crossing over the road.
‘I’m fine, thank you, boys. How are you today?’
‘Yeah, we cool. Going over the park to meet our friends. You gonna to be in that café tomorrow? Food never as good when you not there,’ Dederick said, treating Mary to a cheeky wink.
Mary smiled as the three brothers walked away. They were all wearing tight-fitting white t-shirts and flared faded jeans, and with their identical Afro hair, they reminded Mary of members of the pop group the Jackson Five. Dederick and his brothers were lovely people, so was their mother Joyce, but a lot of regulars in the café didn’t see them that way. England had become far more multi-cultural over recent years, and many local people couldn’t get their heads around it. Both Mary and Donald believed there was good and bad in every race, but many English people didn’t share their liberal views. The majority opinion of the natives of Barking was that England should stop immigration immediately, otherwise their beloved country would be one day taken over, and white people would become the minority. Donald referred to these people as small-minded bigots, and Mary couldn’t agree more.
Mary took a deep breath as she walked up the path that led to her house, and put her key in the door.
‘Hello, love. Dinner is ready,’ Donald said jovially. He didn’t feel at all jovial inside, he felt uneasy. He knew that his wife had been to see Nancy, and was now waiting for the backlash. He didn’t have to wait long.
‘You disgust me, Donald, you really do. How any man could cross over the road to avoid his own grandsons is beyond me. Nancy had told them that their granddad and uncle were walking towards them, and poor little Daniel was beside himself when you walked the other way. What type of man are you?’
Donald knew he had no option other than to stick with his beliefs. ‘Mary, I told you when Nancy married into that family, I wanted nothing to do with her, or any children she might have in the future. I am a man of my word, that’s what type of man I am.’
‘Oh, and don’t I bastard-well know it. Not wanting Nancy in your life is one thing, but crossing over the road to avoid them two little boys is another. Would it have really hurt you to stop and say hello to them? What was you frightened of? Did you think that you might actually feel some emotion for once in your life?’
‘I refuse to have this conversation with you, Mary. We had a deal when you returned home after our minor break-up that if I allowed you to see Nancy, you would not mention anything about her or those children in this house. You are the one in the wrong here, not me. It is you, Mary, that has broken your part of the bargain.’
‘Fuck you, Donald, and fuck your bargain,’ Mary spat.
Stunned that his usually well-mannered wife had used the F-word twice in the same sentence, Donald followed her as she stomped up the stairs. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked in a bewildered tone, when he saw her pull her small suitcase out from under the bed.
‘To stay with our daughter for a while.’
‘But what about the café? And what about your sausage and mash I’ve cooked you?’
Mary threw a few bits into her case, zipped it up, then glared at the man she had married. ‘You and Tina can manage the café OK, and as for the dinner, you can stick your sausages where the sun don’t shine, Donald.’