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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.