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  When neither Adam nor Lee replied, Daniel thought that it was his duty to do so. He had missed his mum when she had first gone away, but that feeling had now worn off. His mum always seemed to be screaming or crying and he’d come to prefer the house without her. ‘Suppose so, Dad.’

  Queenie cried when Vinny broke the news to her on the way home. ‘I can’t have her going to one of them awful places, Vinny. You’ll have to step in and stop it. Give you electric shock treatments and all sorts in them shitholes.’

  ‘Mum, I can’t stop it. Dr Baker knows what is best, we don’t. I know you want to care for Auntie Viv, but she really does need professional help. We have to do whatever it takes to get her better, and if that means her going away for a bit, then so be it. I promise you faithfully, wherever she goes, I will take you to visit her regularly.’

  ‘But what about the neighbours? Them nosy load of bastards will have a field day discussing Viv being carted off to the funny farm. No, Vinny. I’m not letting her go. She’ll never live the shame down.’

  ‘Fuck the neighbours! Surely Auntie Viv’s health is more important than what they think? Anyway, we don’t have to tell them. We can say that she’s gone to stay with a friend in the country to recuperate.’

  Queenie looked at her son as if he had gone mad. ‘But she ain’t got no friends. And you know how rumours spread, we’ll never be able to keep it quiet … unless we just keep it between me, you and Michael. Bren can’t be trusted. Got a mouth as big as a shark when she has a drink. The kids can’t be told either. Little Vinny is bound to tell Ben Bloggs, and I don’t want him telling his whore of a mother or thieving old gran.’

  ‘Calm down, Mum. Nobody will know bar me, you and Michael, I promise.’

  Queenie didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the object on her front lawn. ‘What’s that, Vinny? Is it more flowers?’

  Vinny could see better in the dark than his mother and he saw that the flowers were shaped in what looked like a gun. ‘Yeah, it’s flowers. Somebody must have got the day wrong. You go inside and put the kettle on, Mum. I’ll bring these in.’

  He went to the arrangement and crouched down, his heart beating faster than its usual pace. The flowers were a mixture of red and white, which his mum hated. She always said it was the sign of blood and bandages and swore it was unlucky. The flowers were made up in the shape of a pistol and Vinny looked at the attached card with trepidation. He was right to be wary. The words read ‘YOU ARE NEXT’.

  ‘What you doing out there, Vinny?’ Queenie shouted from the house.

  Vinny hurriedly stuffed the flowers in the boot of his car, then darted inside the house. ‘The flowers aren’t for us, Mum. They were delivered to the wrong street. I’m going to drop them off at the right address on the way home.’

  ‘Thank Christ for that! They looked red and white. That’s all we need – more bad luck.’

  He tried not to let on, but Vinny was feeling physically sick. Because the flowers had been left on his mother’s front lawn it was hard to say whether the message was meant for her or for him. Ahmed popped into his mind, but Vinny quickly dismissed the thought. Even though Ahmed had forgiven him a bit too easily for his liking, he was sure that a stunt like this was not his pal’s style. If Ahmed planned to harm him, he certainly wouldn’t be issuing any warnings. Perhaps Bobby Jackson had sent them? But Vinny doubted it, given the damage he’d done to Bobby’s face and his threat to kill him. Jackson was a mouthy, gutless piece of shit just like his father had been. The only other suspect Vinny could think of offhand was Johnny Preston. The fact he was in prison wouldn’t have stopped him asking somebody to send the flowers, especially once he’d found out Joanna was pregnant. Well tomorrow Vinny would visit every florist in the vicinity to try and find out who the culprit was.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Been struck dumb?’

  Vinny recovered himself and fished in his pocket. ‘No. I have something for you, Mum. You’ve had so much on your plate, I thought I’d wait until after the funeral to give it to you.’ He produced a white envelope and handed it to her.

  ‘Who’s it from?’

  ‘It’s from Roy, Mum.’

  Unaware that he was currently on Vinny Butler’s mind, Johnny Preston sat down opposite his ex-wife in the visiting room. Deborah hadn’t changed her name after their divorce, which was just as well as Johnny had recently proposed again, and she had accepted. ‘How’s things, love? Did you hear from Jo?’

  Deborah felt sick with worry. Johnny had been adamant that Joanna would ring home on her eighteenth birthday, and he had been right. Now all she had to do was break the awful news to him.

  ‘Well?’ Johnny asked, his voice overloaded with impatience.

  ‘Yes, Jo rang me, Johnny. She said she missed us both and wanted to build bridges.’

  Johnny grinned. ‘Well, that’s a start, ain’t it? Before you know it, she’ll see that no good prick for what he really is, Deb.’

  Deborah squeezed the hands of the man she loved so very much. Johnny had once been a South London gangster, was in the know, so would hear the news anyway. Surely, it was kinder and better coming from her? ‘John, love … Jo’s pregnant.’

  The breakfast in the Scrubs wasn’t the best and Johnny immediately felt his rise to the back of his throat. Moments later, he was violently sick.

  Michael Butler was doing his best to tidy up in preparation for Nancy’s homecoming when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Dad, it’s Uncle Vinny,’ Lee shouted out.

  ‘What’s up?’ Michael asked. It was unusual for Vinny to turn up at his house without prior warning.

  Vinny gesticulated for Michael to follow him outside. ‘I didn’t want to speak on the phone for obvious reasons. But I thought you should know that the van’s been found.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I caught the back end of a news bulletin. We picked a good spot there as the farmer only discovered it yesterday morning. Try not to worry because even if Trevor has been reported missing, no way will the Old Bill be able to confirm it’s him after my dentistry work. I used gallons of petrol and all that will be left of the cunt is his ashes and some fragments of bone,’ Vinny chuckled.

  ‘It ain’t no laughing matter, Vin. Say the Old Bill do come sniffing around?’

  ‘And why would they do that? Nobody bar me or you knows that we were watching Trevor’s movements and there’s sod all to link us to East Hanningfield. Stop panicking, for Christ’s sake, Michael. As I’ve said all along, the filth will not be able to identify Trevor, you mark my words.’

  When Bobby Jackson strolled into the Blind Beggar, the pub immediately fell silent. Most of the customers had gone to Roy and Lenny’s funeral, then the wake afterwards, and the few that had not were well aware of Bobby being dragged out of the club by Vinny. News tended to spread like wildfire in Whitechapel, especially when the Butlers were involved.

  ‘What you lot staring at? Haven’t you ever seen stitches before?’ Bobby shouted out, before marching over to the corner of the bar where his pal Micky was.

  ‘Jesus, Bob. That’s gonna be some scar you’re left with there. I heard what happened. Whatever possessed you to set foot inside the Butlers’ club?’

  ‘I was pissed and the door was open. Unlike you and most of the mugs round here, I ain’t frightened of the Butlers. Fronted Vinny outside, I did. Called him every name under the sun and I told him I knew he’d done my old man in,’ Bobby exaggerated.

  ‘How many stitches you had?’ Micky shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a death wish at times, mate.’

  ‘Thirty-odd – and don’t you be worrying about me, Mick. I’ll strike one day and when I do that cunt Vinny won’t know what’s hit him. He’ll get his comeuppance, you wait and see.’

  Queenie waited until Brenda, Tara and Little Vinny had gone to bed before she sat down and opened Roy’s letter. She had honestly thought her son had left this world without saying a proper goodbye to her and was so chu
ffed to discover that he hadn’t. Taking a sip of her sherry and a deep breath, Queenie rested her eyes on the page.

  Dear Mum

  I know if you are reading this letter then my plan and wish to die have been successful. I must explain why I did what I did, and I pray that you will understand.

  I could never cope with being confined to a wheelchair from day one, and being paralysed down one side of my body was so awful. Even my face looked terrible where my mouth had dropped and I felt like a freak.

  It made me bitter and I know I was nasty to people. Often in the night, I would dream of working at the club and being the man I used to be, then I would wake up and remember that I would never be that man again …

  Queenie put the letter on the arm of the sofa. Her tears were dripping onto it, and she didn’t want it ruined. She wanted to treasure it for ever.

  Five minutes and another sherry later, she found the strength to continue reading.

  You were so lovely and kind every time you came to see me, Mum, and so was Auntie Viv. You deserved so much better than spending the rest of your lives worrying about and visiting some miserable bastard like me. Colleen and Emily-Mae both deserved more too, which is why I set them free.

  I have forgiven Vinny, Mum, as not only do I want to rest in peace, I also know it is what you would have wanted. It was down to his past mistakes that I got shot, but he never pulled the trigger on the gun, so I could never truly hate him. It just used to make me angry when I saw him casually walking towards me in those smart suits, as I so craved to be able to do the same again myself.

  Before I end this letter I want to ask a few favours from you. Firstly, I want you to be nice to my dad from now on. I know he was a bastard to you years ago, but he isn’t a bad man. I think he just felt very left out because Auntie Viv was always at the house, which is probably why he turned into a drinker and a womanizer.

  Secondly, I want you to make sure Emily-Mae gets her inheritance. I still have quite a sum of money in my bank account and I want every penny to go to her when she is sixteen. I know Colleen has a new man now, but that does not alter my wishes. Emily-Mae is my daughter and I want to be the one to support her when she leaves school.

  And last but not least, I want you to promise me that after reading this letter you won’t be sad any more. You have always been the strong one of the family and they all need you – Vinny, Michael, Brenda, Auntie Viv, and especially Champ and Little Vinny. You must be happy, Mum, please don’t cry any more.

  Until we meet again,

  Your loving son,

  Roy xxx

  Queenie put the letter down beside her and cried more than she had ever cried before.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Spring 1977

  Hearing the wonderful voice of Barbra Streisand enhance the radio airwaves, Queenie Butler turned up the volume. Chart music had been wonderful back in the fifties and sixties, but apart from the likes of Barbra, Queenie hated it now. The charts were full of disco music, and as for that punk rubbish, she could not even understand what those vagrant-looking creatures were singing.

  Queenie sat down on the armchair and sipped her tea. ‘Morning, boys,’ she said to the photo that now took pride of place on her lounge wall. She didn’t have many photos with just Roy and Lenny in them, but this one was a beauty and she’d had it blown up.

  The farewell letter Roy had written her had helped Queenie cope with his death. She had always known how unhappy he’d been after the shooting, though she’d never wanted to admit it. The letter had helped her face facts, and if she were honest it was a relief knowing her son wasn’t suffering any more. Lenny’s death, however, was a different kettle of fish. That boy had died way before his time and, unlike Roy, he had been a happy little soul. Queenie was amazed Vinny hadn’t yet sorted that Turkish bastard out, but her son assured her he planned to and was just biding his time. Queenie would never be able to rest until that day came. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth had always been her motto.

  When the phone rang, she answered it and smiled as she heard the sound of her sister’s cheery voice. Vivian’s recovery had been a long and winding road, but she was more than on the mend now. For the past seven months she’d been residing at Goodmayes Hospital – or West Ham Borough Asylum as it used to be known, which Queenie could never understand as it wasn’t even situated in West Ham.

  ‘Not long now, Vivvy. Five days and you’ll be back in your own bed,’ Queenie reminded her sister. Vivian had her three-monthly review this coming Wednesday, and the doctor had already told Queenie and Vinny that Viv was ready to return home.

  ‘Oh, I can’t bloody wait, Queen. Nutty Nora’s been at it again. Yesterday she was a bestselling author and today she’s a famous film star. Been flouncing around in her nightie this morning quoting lines from Sunset Boulevard.’

  Queenie chuckled. Now that Viv’s humour had returned, the pair of them could share a right old giggle at the expense of some of the other patients.

  ‘How’s Bren and the baby doing, Queen? No news on Vinny’s little ’un yet, I take it?’

  ‘No, no news. Jo is long overdue now. She has another hospital appointment on Monday and I reckon they’ll keep her in and start her off. She can barely move and feels ever so uncomfortable, the poor little cow. Vinny said she’s been having trouble sleeping as well. Bren’s OK. She came out of hospital yesterday and is going to stay here for a week or two before she goes home. Tommy’s a gorgeous baby, Viv. Big fat cheeks, arms and legs. You wait until you see him. Happy little soul he is, too. Rarely ever cries. Shame the same can’t be said about the other one,’ Queenie said, referring to her sulky granddaughter.

  ‘Has Bren mentioned Dean lately?’ Vivian asked. It had been over seven months now since her niece’s husband went out for a newspaper and never returned.

  ‘Not since the birth, but I can tell she’s missing him. That’s why I suggested she stay here for a while. Not going to be easy for her, bringing two up on her own. If I ever find out where that Dean Smart is, I swear I will pay him a visit and string him up by the bollocks. How a man can walk away and leave his kids is beyond me.’

  ‘Well, my Bill did,’ Viv reminded her. ‘What time you coming up to see me today? Will you be on your own?’

  ‘Yes. Michael’s going to drop me off and Vinny said he’ll pick me up. I’ll stop at Mum’s grave and put some fresh flowers down, then I’ll come straight to you. About two-ish, I reckon. I’ve written out a list of ideas for the street party. We’ll go over it together and you can add to it. I want our contribution to be better than anybody else’s, Viv. Vinny suggested setting up a music system in the front garden so we can play all the old wartime songs.’

  Vivian smiled. She loved a sing-song and a royal celebration. The Queen’s Silver Jubilee was just what the doctor had ordered for her imminent homecoming.

  Little Vinny Butler was currently in the doghouse. A fortnight ago, he and Ben Bloggs had broken into the general store run by the Indians along the High Street. The robbery had not been successful. An alarm had gone off and, even though the lads had scarpered quickly, the police had caught them hiding in an alleyway shortly afterwards with their hoard of stolen cigarettes.

  Queenie Butler had gone apeshit when the police had knocked on her door in the middle of the night. Not only had her grandson lied to her about his whereabouts, he had also robbed a store that she used regularly.

  The following morning, Queenie had rung her son to inform him Little Vinny would not be living with her any more. She had also marched the boy round to the Patels’ shop to make him apologize in person and offer his services to do any odd jobs on a Saturday for the next year.

  ‘Dad, please can I go out and play? I won’t go far and I’ll behave myself, I promise,’ Little Vinny begged.

  ‘No, son. I have to pop out in a bit and I need you to stay here and look after Jo for me. The baby might come anytime now, and Jo can’t be left alone.’

  ‘But I don’t w
ant to stay ’ere with Jo, and I’m sick of hearing about the baby. I don’t like living here. I want to live with Nan again.’

  ‘Well, you should have thought of that before you robbed Mr Patel’s shop. Your nan won’t have you back, so best you get used to living here and start treating Jo with a bit more respect. Fucking rude you were earlier when she made you that sandwich. I want you to apologize to her.’

  Unable to control his temper, Little Vinny punched the wall. He and his dad used to be so close once upon a time. Not any more though, and Little Vinny rued the day his dad had met Joanna Preston. In fact, he wished she would die.

  Ahmed Zane met his cousin at their restaurant in Tottenham. Being Sunday lunchtime, the gaff was packed, so Ahmed followed Burak into the small office.

  ‘What’s that?’ Ahmed asked, clocking an unlabelled bottle.

  ‘Raki. I found us a new cheap supplier. Taste it.’ Burak poured a glass and handed it to him. ‘So, how’s it going with Vinny?’

  ‘OK. Since I started making more of an effort to spend time with him, he’s more like his old self. He still won’t touch any cocaine though, which is a damn shame. He was a lunatic on that stuff and would have had a really bad habit by now. It would have been so much easier to pull the wool over his eyes if he was permanently high like in the old days.’

  ‘Why don’t you try snorting in front of him?’ Burak suggested. ‘Lay a big mound out so he can’t help but be tempted. Once an addict, always an addict.’

  ‘I’ve already tried that. Reckons he won’t touch it because he promised his dead brother he wouldn’t. He’s acting all saintly at the moment and doesn’t even want to visit the whorehouses. He says it isn’t right because he has a new baby due any day.’

  ‘And what about his surprise gifts? Has he received any more of those?’

  Ahmed shook his head. Vinny had not told him about the pistol-shaped flower arrangement until two weeks after the event. That was how Ahmed knew that his pal was wary of him now. Had the incident happened before the car crash, Vinny would have told him immediately.