Читать книгу: «Payback», страница 3

‘God! What fucking God?’ Vivian muttered as the vicar began sermonizing about the afterlife.

‘Shush, Viv. Your voice carries and people can hear you,’ Queenie whispered.

‘Couldn’t give a toss what people think. No God would have taken my boy from me. That’s how I know he don’t fucking exist.’

When the pianist played ‘The Wonder of You’, Vivian’s anger turned to anguish. ‘My baby. My beautiful boy. Mummy loved you so much, Lenny. You were my world.’

Vinny bowed his head when the vicar recited the Lord’s Prayer. He had begged his brother to give a eulogy on behalf of the family, but Michael had flatly refused. ‘Accidental or not, both Roy and Champ would still be alive if it wasn’t for your mistakes, Vin. The least you owe them is to stand up, be a man, and say a few words,’ had been Michael’s blunt reply.

After the prayer, the vicar called Vinny up to speak. Feeling physically sick, he took the piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at the sea of faces all staring his way. The church was packed to the brim. ‘My brother Roy and cousin Champ were two of the nicest people you could ever wish to meet. Both had a wicked sense of humour, especially Champ, who would have me in hysterics every day with his off-the-cuff one-liners and jokes.’

Knowing he was about to mug himself off by crying, Vinny paused. As he took a deep breath to try and compose himself, he locked eyes with Ahmed and knew he could not continue. Guilt would not allow him to do so. ‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry,’ Vinny said, handing the piece of paper to the vicar.

When her tearful son sat back down, Queenie bravely stood up. ‘I would like to say a few words and I don’t need no piece of paper.’

She turned to face the mourners. ‘Roy and Lenny’s passing has left a huge gap in all our lives, but instead of being morbid, I want to share with you some of the good times. Roy was a finicky little sod as a kid, would never eat his vegetables. I tried the old clout-round-the-earhole routine and, when that didn’t work, I threatened to put him in the orphanage. Soon ate his greens after that, he did.’

Queenie paused as the mourners chuckled. She then went on to tell other funny stories about her son, before reverting to a serious tone of voice. ‘The happiest I had ever seen my Roy was when he met Colleen. Loved the bones of her, he did, and I am so glad they had a beautiful daughter together. In Emily-Mae, part of my Roy will always live on, and that is a great comfort to me. Due to his injuries, my son was not happy in the latter part of his life and I like to think he is in a better place now, God rest his soul.’

‘And I hope he’s looking after my Lenny for me,’ a sobbing Vivian shouted out.

‘Of course he is, Vivvy. You can be assured of that. Which brings me to Lenny. Such a wonderful boy, whose smile could light up a room. Never stopped laughing, that lad. I bet he’s looking down on me now, begging me to tell some funny stories about him. Well, Champ – as my boys liked to call him – was a brilliant little DJ, but he would drive me and his mother mad at home by continuously playing rock ’n’ roll. Thought he was Mr Presley himself, the little toerag did, and I bet as soon as God opens those pearly gates, Lenny’s first question to the big man above will be, “Where’s Elvis?”’

Aware that all her family were crying yet laughing at the same time, Queenie continued: ‘Another of Lenny’s bad habits was he used to flop his dingle-dangle out in public. Vivvy used to get so embarrassed and Lenny would look at me with a twinkle in his eye and I knew he only did it to wind his mother up. Used to flash at people he did not like, so if anybody here today had the misfortune of coming face to face with Lenny’s dingle-dangle, sorry, but you obviously was not one of my nephew’s favourite people.’

Queenie told two more funny stories, then wrapped her speech up by saying, ‘Rest in peace, Roy and Lenny. Your family loved you both very much.’

The service came to a close with ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’ and it was then that Queenie finally broke down. She had tried to be so strong for the sake of her sister and family, but the tears she had been storing seemed to all flow out at once.

Vinny held his mother close to his chest. Her shoulders were hunched like those of a much older woman, and it was as though she had aged ten years in the past ten days. All he could do was stroke her hair and tell her, ‘I know it’s terribly sad, Mum, but Roy will be happier in heaven, I know he will.’

Michael was the first to notice the criminal element amongst the mourners. As he left the church, he tapped Vinny on the shoulder. ‘Lots of faces here, bruv. I’ve just spotted the Mitchells, and I’m sure I saw David Fraser as well.’

The Mitchell firm, led by Harry Mitchell, were out of Canning Town. Harry’s three sons, Paulie, Ronny and Eddie worked alongside him in the pub protection racket, and over the years they had built up a fearsome reputation in the East End.

David Fraser was not a man to be messed with either. Son of Mad Frankie, who was currently banged up at Her Majesty’s pleasure, David came from south of the water. ‘That’s Sid the Snake who David is talking to. I know him quite well. You go and find the Mitchells, Michael, thank them for coming and invite them to the wake. I’ll do the same with David and Sid,’ Vinny ordered.

‘Vinny, why you faffing about here? We don’t want to keep the vicar waiting at the graveside,’ Queenie scolded. She had been bowled over by the wonderful flower arrangements Roy and Lenny had received. There had been hundreds of people standing in front of her house and a big crowd outside the club as the undertaker had walked in front of her dearly departed on their final journey.

‘You go ahead with Auntie Viv, Mum. Michael and I just need to speak to a few people, then we’ll follow.’

‘Well, don’t be too long. As I told you this morning, I expect this to be the perfect send-off.’

The moment the congregation reached the cemetery, Queenie’s wish for the perfect funeral was ruined.

It had been decided that Roy and Lenny would be buried side by side in Plaistow – Bow Cemetery having stopped burials a while back, thus scuppering Queenie and Vivian’s wish to have their sons buried close to their beloved mother. Among the mourners waiting for the cortege to arrive was Ahmed.

When Vivian spotted him, she stopped dead in her tracks. Ahmed was chatting to a couple of men, casually smoking a cigarette as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Who invited that murdering bastard? I’ll kill him! I will bastard-well kill him,’ she screamed as she ran towards him.

‘Ruined our lives, you have. Broken our hearts!’ Queenie shouted, joining Vivian in throwing punches at the man they blamed for Lenny’s death.

Humiliated because the Mitchells were standing nearby, Vinny grabbed hold of his mother and ordered Michael to restrain Vivian. ‘Ahmed loved Lenny, and he wanted to say farewell to him. What happened was an accident, Mum.’

‘Accident! An accident! I’ll give you fucking accident, sticking up for that murdering Turkish cunt,’ Queenie yelled, slapping her son repeatedly around his stupid head.

‘Ahmed, I think it’s best you leave now. This is meant to be a funeral and it’s turning into a circus,’ Michael said, aware that everybody including the vicar was gawping.

‘Let me at him! Let me at the evil murdering shitbag!’ Vivian shrieked, desperately trying to shrug off her nephew’s grip.

Ahmed held his hands up in surrender. ‘I wanted to pay my respects, but I shall leave now. I am sorry if I have upset anybody.’

With Vivian and Queenie still shouting obscenities in the background, Ahmed turned up the collar of his black Crombie coat and slowly walked away, smirking to himself.

Things went from bad to worse as the vicar said a few words after both coffins had been lowered into the ground.

‘What’s that? What you just thrown in my boy’s grave?’ Vivian hissed, prodding her sister’s arm.

‘Zippy the monkey. He loved that toy and you put it out for the dustmen. I thought it should be buried with him, Viv. It was always his comfort thingy.’

‘Noooo! You can’t bury Zippy! I want him. I want to keep him,’ Vivian shrieked. Shoving the vicar out of the way, she literally threw herself on top of her son’s coffin.

As every single mourner present stood frozen, open-mouthed, Queenie was the first to react. ‘Do something, Vinny. Get her out of that hole,’ she screamed.

Dutifully obeying his mother’s orders, Vinny wished the hole could be filled with earth with him in it. His brother and cousin’s expensive farewell had turned into a joke. One that the East End and criminal fraternity would dine out on for years.

CHAPTER THREE

Desperate to save face after such a public display in front of the vicar, Queenie made a point of putting on her poshest voice and personally inviting all of the neighbours back to the wake.

‘You can count me out, Queen. I’m in no mood to socialize. I just want to be on my own,’ Vivian told her sister, clutching Zippy the monkey tightly to her chest.

‘Hold that monkey normally please, Viv. People are staring at you. You are coming back to the club. Our neighbours must already reckon you’ve lost your marbles after the way you threw yourself on top of Lenny’s coffin, and if you don’t show your face at the wake, they’ll think you’ve lost the plot completely. Mouthy Maureen and Nosy Hilda will be the first to spread such rumours, you mark my words.’

‘Like I give a shit what any of the bastards think,’ Viv snarled.

‘Yes, you do. You’re just not thinking straight at the moment. We haven’t got to stay at the club long. But we do need to show our faces, especially after today’s little fiasco. That’s the least we can do for our sons’ memory,’ insisted Queenie in a tone that brooked no argument.

Not wanting the wake to be a sombre affair, Vinny had hired a band for the occasion. Max Bennett was an old timer when it came to the East End pub circuit, and he always encouraged punters – or in today’s case, mourners – to stand up and belt out a song or two.

The professional caterers had put on a nice display. As well as the usual buffet food, there was every type of seafood you could imagine, including a dozen big tubs of jellied eels.

‘Good idea of yours, getting Max in to sing, Vinny. I can’t believe the amount of people that turned up. I expected a big crowd, but not quite this big. The Davisons from Charlton are here, and Freddie the Fox,’ Michael informed his brother.

The Davisons were a very big crime family who ran a scrap-metal business in South London as a front for their illegal activities. Freddie the Fox was an ex-bank robber who originated from Whitechapel but had moved to the Costa del Sol after his latest prison sentence had ended. ‘I’ve already spoken to Freddie. Bowled over that he travelled all the way from Spain just for the funeral. I feel such a mug though that I couldn’t go through with the speech. And what with Mum and Auntie Viv’s performance at the graveside …’

Michael put a comforting arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘You should be proud of yourself today. I have never seen such a well-organized funeral in my life, and you arranged it all.’

‘Did you invite the Mitchells to the wake?’

‘Yeah, but they had some important business to attend to, so couldn’t make it. Nice of them to attend the funeral, though, eh? Proper respectful people.’

‘Old school, Michael. Eddie’s the one to look out for in the future. Very charismatic and has a good head on his shoulders, by all accounts. Much more feared than his brothers are, and his reputation is growing by the day.’

‘Did they know Roy personally?’

‘Only to say hello to. Roy and I bumped into Eddie, Paulie and Ronny in a bar once when you were just a kid. It was around the time we bought this gaff and they wished us good luck with it. Haven’t crossed paths with them much since then, but I did see Eddie in a restaurant once when I was with Karen. We exchanged pleasantries and that was it.’

‘Well, given the number of faces that turned up today, it just goes to show how highly regarded we are. Nobody is going to give a toss that you didn’t give a eulogy, nor will they care what happened at the graveside. Perfect families do not exist, especially in our world, Vinny. Just hold your head high and give yourself a pat on the back for giving Roy and Champ such a great send-off.’

Not for the first time that week, Vinny looked at his brother with renewed admiration. Michael was so much more of a man without that lunatic of a wife around him.

Determined to restore her family’s credibility, Queenie Butler plastered on a false smile as she chatted jovially to the neighbours and locals. Truth be known, she did not want to be at the wake any more than Vivian did, but she was determined to act her way through it.

Spotting old Mr Arthur heading her way with his medals pinned proudly on his suit jacket, Queenie ducked out of sight. Listening to that silly old bastard rambling on about the war was the last thing she needed today of all days. Using the well-wishers for cover, she darted back to the table where Vivian was sitting with Joanna.

‘Brenda is the bane of my life, honestly. Only caught her necking alcohol! Silly little mare is pregnant again, and if she harms that baby, I will kill her stone dead. Sent her back to mine with the kids. Little Vinny was playing up, and Michael’s three were bored.’

When neither Vivian nor Joanna replied, Queenie could not help but lose her cool. ‘Say something then, the pair of you, even if it’s only “arseholes”. Never seen two faces look so much like a wet weekend. Best you snap out of your little sulk, Joanna, else Vinny won’t be amused. I know you’ve got the ike because he told you to sit here while he chats to the men, but men of importance like Vinny always stand with the blokes, love. When they’re talking business, they don’t want their birds stood by their side, do they? It isn’t the done thing.’

‘Can somebody get me another sherry? I’m not walking up the bar myself,’ Vivian said.

When Joanna leapt up to get it for her, Queenie turned to Vivian. ‘Did you see the way Daniel, Adam and Lee greeted Albie at the church?’

‘No.’

‘All over him like a rash, they were. That is definitely not the first time they have met that old bastard. Michael must have taken them to visit him behind my back. I asked Michael outright, but he reckons the boys were just excited because he’d told them Albie was their granddad. I told him not to insult my intelligence. Do I look like I just got off the banana boat?’

‘Is Albie here?’

‘No. Went straight home after the funeral with that drippy brother of his. Wouldn’t have had the guts to come here after the terrible lie he told. I’m surprised the arsehole even had the front to turn up at the funeral.’

‘This is all we fucking need,’ Vivian mumbled, as Mr Arthur sat down in Joanna’s chair.

‘Sorry to bother you, ladies, but I just wanted to pay my respects to you in person and say how very sorry I am for your loss. I also wanted to tell you—’

Before Mr Arthur had a chance to finish the sentence, Queenie cut him dead. After excelling herself being polite to people who got on her nerves all day, she’d reached the point where she’d had enough. ‘If it’s about your war escapades, Viv and I really aren’t in the mood to listen to such cobblers today.’

Mr Arthur looked hurt. ‘I just wanted to tell you about Jeanie Thomas, Queenie. I know you chat to her on her stall sometimes.’

Jeanie Thomas was the mother of Trevor who had run off with Vinny’s first love, Yvonne. At the time, Queenie had been that annoyed she had vowed never to speak to the woman again. But Jeanie was such a nice lady, Queenie hadn’t been able to stay angry with her for long. What had happened was hardly her fault.

‘I’ve not been down the market lately. Not dead, is she?’

‘Jeanie’s in a terrible state, Queenie. Her son moved back to the area recently and he’s disappeared off the face of the earth. Been missing days now he has, and Jeanie thinks that something terrible has happened to him.’

Vivian, who had kept quiet until now, suddenly piped up: ‘Whatever has happened to Jeanie’s son cannot be any worse than what happened to mine and Queenie’s, can it? Now sod off and leave us alone.’

When Mr Arthur scuttled off like a naughty schoolboy, Queenie turned to Viv. ‘I bet Trevor’s disappearance has something to do with Vinny. Both he and Michael went on the missing list earlier this week and I had to look after Michael’s kids, didn’t I? I had no idea Trevor had moved back to the area. Jeanie never mentioned it.’

When Joanna reappeared with two glasses of sherry, Vivian knocked hers back and then stood up. ‘It’s breaking my heart looking at Lenny’s photos on that wall. I need to get out of here.’

‘Wait ten minutes and I’ll come with you,’ Queenie said.

‘No. I did what you asked and came back here, now I want you to do as I ask and leave me in peace for the night. I need to be alone to collect my thoughts. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Clutching Zippy the monkey in her hand, Vivian left the club. Once outside, she held the toy to her nose. She had always begged Lenny to let her wash it, even scolded him and told him he would catch diseases if he didn’t do as she asked, but she was glad now that Lenny had refused, throwing a tantrum every time she asked. The monkey had her son’s scent all over it. Closing her eyes, she whispered, ‘Not long now, boy, and Mummy will be there to take care of you. You just behave yourself until I arrive.’

Vinny Butler was having a chat with David Fraser when his mother rudely poked him in the arm. ‘Me and you need to have a little chat, now!’

Annoyed that she had shown him up yet again, Vinny gave his mother his coldest stare. ‘Mum, this is David Fraser. Mad Frankie’s son.’

Putting on a completely different tone to the one she had just used, Queenie smiled at the handsome dark-haired chap and held out her right hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, David. How is your father?’

‘He’s doing OK, thanks. Giving the screws the runaround as always. I’ll be visiting him again next week.’

‘Well, do give him our regards – not just from me but from all of my family.’

‘Will do. I have to make a move now, Vinny. I’ve got to be somewhere. Look after yourself, and tell your brother I said goodbye.’

Vinny shook David’s hand, then waited until he walked away before tearing into his mother. ‘Do you get off on embarrassing me or something? The Mitchells were stood by the graveside when you and Auntie Viv made a show of me earlier, now you’ve just spoken to me like I’m a ten-year-old child in front of David Fraser. Cheers for that, Mum. He must think I’m some right mug.’

‘I didn’t know it was Mad Frankie’s son, did I? I didn’t even know you knew the Frasers.’

‘There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Mother. Just try not to make me look a fool in front of people in future, eh? And drop the silly posh voice, it really doesn’t suit you.’

Queenie was not one to be told off. ‘And would one of those things I don’t know about be Trevor Thomas, by any chance? Don’t you even think about lying to me, because I knew you and Michael were up to something earlier this week. Never going to be able to look poor Jeanie in the eye again, am I?’

‘I have no idea what you’re on about, Mum. I haven’t seen Trevor since he ran off with that slag, Yvonne.’

‘Swear on my life,’ Queenie demanded.

Before he could speak, Michael ended the conversation by grabbing Vinny’s arm. ‘Bobby Jackson’s only had the nerve to show up. Shall I throw the cheeky bastard out, or do you want to do the honours?’

Vinny’s lip curled into a snarl. He hated Bobby almost as much as he had despised his father. ‘Where is he?’

‘Stood at the corner of the bar. Christ knows how long he’s been here. I reckon some idiot left the main door open and he just wandered in.’

Usually, whenever the club was open Pete and Paul were on the door, but because they were lifelong friends of Roy and extremely fond of Lenny too, Vinny had given them the day off to enjoy a good drink at the wake like everybody else. ‘He’s overstepped the mark this time, bruv. We can’t let this go, we’ll be a laughing stock.’

Michael nodded. The whole of Whitechapel was aware of the bad blood between Vinny and Bobby, therefore he’d have to be taught a lesson for taking such a liberty.

‘What’s going on?’ Queenie demanded. She could barely hear herself think over Big Stan’s rendition of Johnnie Ray’s ‘Cry’. Talk about murdering a great song.

‘It’s nothing to worry about, Mum. Just an uninvited guest, that’s all. Go and sit back down with Joanna and keep her company for me. I’ll be over with some more drinks in a minute,’ Vinny ordered.

Bobby Jackson had been out on one of his little benders. He had celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday the previous day and ended up pulling some bird in the Ilford Palais, so he was still in yesterday’s clothes. He’d been on his way home when he had spotted the door of the club open, and unable to resist the lure of free alcohol, Bobby had decided to sneak in. The worst Vinny would do was chuck him out, surely?

A sucker for a pretty face, Bobby was busy chatting up one of the barmaids and did not see Vinny creep up behind him. ‘You’re not the first to say I look like Les McKeown. I get it all the time, I do,’ Bobby chuckled.

‘Well, you won’t be looking like Les by the time I finish with you – you’ll be looking more like a fucking corpse,’ Vinny hissed, grabbing Bobby by his long brown hair and dragging him backwards towards the exit.

Having gone to a lot of trouble to model his look on the lead singer of the Bay City Rollers, Bobby was more worried about his appearance than anything else. ‘Mind me barnet, will ya? The door was wide open. I didn’t gatecrash, honest I didn’t.’

Max was singing ‘New York, New York’, and lots of the mourners were in a circle on the dancefloor doing that stupid dance where you put your arms around one another’s shoulders and kick your legs from side to side.

Vinny smiled at Nosy Hilda as he dragged Bobby past her feet. ‘Nothing worse than a pisshead who turns up at the wake in jeans, is there? Didn’t even have the nous to wear black. I don’t know what the world is coming to these days, Hilda. No respect for the dead any more.’

Not one person said a word as Vinny dragged Bobby outside. Nobody followed either. It was none of their business and anybody with even half a brain knew not to interfere.

Joanna Preston was worried. Following Queenie’s stare, she had just seen Vinny drag a man out of the club backwards. ‘Should we go outside and make sure Vinny is all right, do you think?’

Queenie glared at Joanna. ‘Are you tuppence short of a shilling or something? I told you earlier that men like Vinny do not want or appreciate their birds sticking their oar in. How old are you again?’

Joanna’s eyes welled up. She was having her worst birthday ever. ‘I’m eighteen today, and I was only trying to help.’

Feeling a bit guilty, Queenie softened her tone. She’d had no idea that it was Joanna’s eighteenth birthday. Vinny had failed to mention it. ‘Sorry if I was a bit abrupt with you, love, but it’s only for your own good. Did you notice how all these people inside the club, including myself, ignored Vinny dragging that man outside?’

Joanna nodded.

‘Well, that’s what you’ve got to learn to do. Hear no evil, see no evil – you get what I’m saying?’

If there was ever a moment when Joanna wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew, then that moment was now. Did she actually know Vinny Butler at all?

Down the side of the club was a small alleyway where the bins were kept. ‘What you gonna do to me? I’ve already said I’m sorry, Vinny. I didn’t do anything wrong in the club. Please just let me go home.’

‘You did do something wrong, Bobby. You disrespected my brother and cousin by turning up at their wake smelling like a brewery and dressed like a cunt. You also disrespected Michael and myself by entering our club,’ Vinny said, grabbing an empty vodka bottle out of a nearby bin.

Flinching, Bobby put his hands over his head to protect himself. He already lost a clump of hair, he’d felt it rip out as Vinny dragged him along the floor. The next thing he knew, Vinny smashed the bottle against the wall, yanked Bobby’s head upwards by his fringe, then stabbed the jagged edge deep into the left side of his face.

‘You bastard! What you done to me?’ Bobby yelled as blood began to spurt out of his face at a rapid pace.

‘Think yourself fucking lucky I’ve only scarred you, because I am telling you now, you ever cross my path again, Jackson, I will kill you stone dead.’