Payback. Kimberley Chambers
was such a good cook. But today he was sitting in a carvery in Ipswich town centre with Bert and Dorothy, celebrating Bert’s birthday.
‘Nice bit of lamb, eh, Dorothy? What’s the beef like?’ Bert asked his brother.
‘Very tender,’ Albie replied, before ramming another forkful in his mouth. A moment later he froze at the sound of a familiar voice coming from behind him, then spat his beef back onto his plate.
‘You OK? Did it go down the wrong hole?’ Bert asked, slapping Albie on the back to stop him from choking.
Trying desperately to stop his coughing fit as the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, Albie hissed at Bert to leave him alone and act normal. Hearing her distinctive squeaky voice again, Albie sank his pint. The last time he had seen Judy Preston was in 1965 when she had turned up to visit him in hospital at the same time as Queenie. All hell had broken loose when Queenie had realized that Judy was his pregnant bit on the side, and his indiscretion had ended his marriage and seen him kicked out of his own home.
Vinny and Roy had paid Judy a threatening visit and ordered her to abort his child, then shortly afterwards Judy had done a runner. Albie had been told by somebody a few years back that Judy now lived in Ipswich, but he hadn’t quite believed it until this moment.
‘What’s the matter, Albie? You look ever so pale,’ Dorothy remarked.
When he heard a child refer to Judy as Mum, Albie knew he had to get out of the restaurant. She might not recognize the back of him, but if she went to the toilet, she would be bound to spot him. The thought of coming face to face with her or a child he didn’t know had existed was making Albie feel nauseous. ‘I need some fresh air, Dorothy. Please don’t say my name out loud or make a scene as there is somebody on the table behind who I really don’t want to see. You and Bert finish your meals and I’ll wait for you in the car park.’
‘Whatever is the matter?’ Bert asked.
‘Shush,’ Albie hissed. He then darted out of the restaurant as fast as his trembling legs would carry him.
Michael and Kevin had planned to have a curry in Brick Lane after their drinking session, but those plans were scuppered when Michael returned from talking to the mystery dark-haired woman and informed Kev that he had invited her and her friend to join them.
Kevin was extremely happily married. His wife and son meant the world to him and no way was he sitting in some restaurant with two birds. ‘Sorry, mate, but you can count me out. My Jemima would chop my bollocks off if I was spotted somewhere with those two. I doubt your Nancy would be too happy either.’
‘Where’s the harm in going for a meal? And if someone clocks us, I’ll just say it’s two of the barmaids from the club, or an old family friend.’
Seeing Michael and the dark-haired girl share an intimate glance, Kevin gave his pal a talking to. ‘If you go for that meal with her, you’ll end up fucking her, mate – then how you gonna face Nancy in the cold light of day? Think of them sons of yours. Is it worth losing them because you fancy some fresh pussy?’
‘You and Jemima might still be love’s young dream, but Nancy and I haven’t been that for a while, Kev. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with, what with her mood swings and depression. I can’t even remember the last time we had sex. Weeks ago it must have been. Every time I try it on with her she reckons she’s too tired or she’s worried about the boys getting wind that we’re at it. I’m only twenty-seven, not seventy, and I still have fucking needs.’
Not wanting to get into an argument, Kevin asked Michael what he had said to the girls.
‘I just asked the usual and offered them a drink. The dark one’s name is Bella, the blonde one’s Sam. They live in Chelsea and are both models, so they say. Bella’s twenty-one and from Italy. Sam is nineteen and from Liverpool. Please, just come for the meal, Kev? We’ll share a cab home afterwards, just me and you, I promise.’
Kev downed the rest of his lager and stood up. ‘I’m shooting off, mate. Enjoy your meal, and don’t do anything you might regret tomorrow. If I was you, I’d concentrate on getting your marriage back on track rather than shagging young birds. Ever heard of the frying pan and the fire?’
Following Vinny’s instructions, Queenie got a cab from Goodmayes, picked Little Vinny up on the way, then headed straight to the hospital. ‘My oh my, she’s an absolute angel. Isn’t she big! How much did she weigh?’ Queenie asked, as she peered inside the cot.
‘She was ten pound. No wonder I had a struggle getting her out,’ Joanna replied.
‘Well, you did a brilliant job, darling. Reminds me of Emily-Mae with those blonde curls. I can’t wait for Vivvy to see her. We’ll babysit whenever yous two fancy a day or night out,’ Queenie volunteered.
‘Don’t you want to see your little sister then?’ Vinny asked his sullen-faced son, who was loitering at the end of the bed. Vinny was absolutely mesmerized by his new addition, could not believe she already had the power to melt his heart like never before.
‘There ain’t no room, is there?’ Little Vinny snapped. His dad was sitting next to the cot, and his nan was standing in front of it, blocking his view.
Vinny locked eyes with his offspring. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to apologize to Jo for sodding off upstairs and leaving her in the lurch earlier. Bang out of order you was, boy.’
‘What happened?’ Queenie asked, unable to tear her eyes away from her beautiful granddaughter.
Joanna knew that Little Vinny didn’t like her and although she would never admit it to Vinny, the feeling was mutual. However, now Little Vinny had moved in with them, she had no option but to try to get along with him, so did her best to smooth over the situation. ‘It was nothing, Queenie, honest. Anyway, Little Vinny was only in his bedroom playing music. I was in that much pain, I couldn’t scream as loud as usual, so it’s not his fault,’ she lied. She had in fact screamed blue murder and was sure Little Vinny had turned his music up to blank out her cries for help on purpose.
Little Vinny smirked. ‘See? It weren’t my fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s you. You shouldn’t have gone out, Dad.’
As Vinny leapt up to clout his belligerent son, Queenie grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t hit him. He’s bound to be a bit green, after all he’s been the only child for years. You were the same when I had Roy.’
‘I’ll give him fucking green, he’ll be black and blue if he carries on,’ Vinny mumbled. He had no idea what was wrong with his son lately, but he was becoming a real pain in the arse. He wasn’t even eleven yet, but the little bastard already had the attitude and lip of a cocky eighteen-year-old.
‘Ooh, she’s waking up. What you gonna call her? Best you think of a name soon,’ Queenie remarked.
Vinny smiled at Joanna. They had been discussing names earlier and he was so pleased that she had finally given in to his wish. He knew how much this would mean to his beloved mother.
‘We’ve chosen Molly, Mum.’
Queenie’s eyes filled up with tears. Her wonderful mum had been called Molly. ‘Sod you, you’ve started me off now. What a lovely gesture. Wait till I tell Vivvy, she’ll be made up.’
Little Vinny giggled. ‘Molly is an old pensioner’s name.’
It was Queenie’s turn to glare at the child. Looks-wise, Little Vinny might be the spitting image of his dad at that age, but her boy had been a saint in comparison to this bolshy little so-and-so. ‘No, it’s not. It’s a lovely name and my mum was called Molly. Now shut that trap of yours and come and meet your little sister.’
When his nan lifted Molly out of the cot, Little Vinny decided to play along with the happy family theme. He was sick of being grounded and desperate to change that. ‘Hello, I’m your big bruvver,’ he said, grinning at the baby and allowing her to clasp one of his fingers in her chubby hand.
‘Aw,