The Wronged: No parent should ever have to bury their child.... Kimberley Chambers
the wall. ‘You wanna be careful who you take the piss out of, you soppy-looking prick. I am Little Vinny Butler, son of the Vinny Butler, and I can easily arrange your funeral.’
Aware that his cellmate was trying to stifle his sobs, Vinny Butler walked over to his pal’s bunk and rubbed his back. He’d calmed down now, although Michael had pissed him off immensely. ‘Let it all out, Jay. Far better out than in – trust me, I know.’
‘I feel such a fucking dick crying, Vin, but I loved my bro so much,’ Jay wept in his broad Scouse accent.
Jay Boy Gerrard was an up-and-coming boxer who had only just turned pro when he’d ventured down to London for a pal’s stag night. Undefeated as an amateur, the future looked bright for Jay Boy until he’d got involved in a drunken brawl. One punch was all it had taken Jay to kill his victim. It hadn’t been his intention, but unfortunately the lad had fallen backwards, smashed his head against the edge of a kerb and died instantly.
Jay had been given a five-year sentence, and was looking forward to his imminent release. He and his brother had planned to set up their own boxing gym, but that dream was over now. His brother had been stabbed outside a boozer in Kirby last night and was dead. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, Vin. My bro’s a legend in Liverpool. I don’t want to go back there now. If I do, I’ll be reminded of his death everywhere I turn. I can’t believe he’s gone and I’m never going to see him again. It doesn’t seem real.’
Knowing exactly what his mate was going through, Vinny gave the lad a hug. Jay was fourteen years his junior. They had been sharing a cell for the past two years and Vinny cared for the bloke like a brother or a son. Jay had most certainly brightened up his time inside, which was why Vinny wanted to repay the favour. ‘Listen, mate, why don’t you stay in London and work with me? You can work at the club. I’ll see to it you get treated with respect and paid good dosh. Then, when I get released, you can be my main man.’
‘Really! But what about your bro?’ Jay asked. He was well aware of the friction between Vinny and Michael as his cellmate often spoke about it.
‘Don’t be worrying about Michael. He will do exactly as I tell him. Whether he likes it or not, I’m the boss. Always have been and always fucking will be.’
The man apprehensively entered the plush office. His boss could be a real tyrant at times and he hoped he wasn’t in any trouble. His last task had proved anything but fruitful.
‘Sit down.’
‘Sorry I had a wasted trip, boss. I tried my hardest to track him down, honest I did.’
‘I know. Which is why I’m putting my faith in you again. I have an address of a nightclub in the East End of London. There you will find a man called Michael Butler. I want photos, movements; dig up as much as you can on him. I even want to know when he takes a shit. Understand me?’
‘Clearly, boss.’
Joanna Preston clapped as the rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ ended. She bent down next to her daughter. ‘Make a wish, darling, then blow out the candles.’
‘What’s a wish, Mummy?’
‘It means think about something you want. Why don’t you wish for that little fluffy white kitten you saw last week, eh?’
Ava did as she was told, then squealed with delight seconds later when her granddad handed her a small cardboard box with the kitten inside. ‘Can I call it Bagpuss?’ Ava asked. She loved to watch TV and the videos her nan and granddad brought her, and Bagpuss was her current favourite.
Deborah Preston picked up the kitten and chuckled. ‘Seeing as she’s a pretty little girl, just like you, I think we can come up with a nicer name than Bagpuss. Why don’t we make a list of names, then you can choose which one you like the best?’
Standing with her hands on her little hips, Ava Preston shook her head in defiance. ‘No, Nanny. I want to call her Bagpuss.’
‘She’s a case, isn’t she? Talk about three going on thirteen,’ Nancy Butler joked. Ava was nothing like Molly in any way, shape or form, and Nancy still couldn’t decide whether that was a good omen or bad. With her mop of curly blonde hair and sweet nature, Molly had been a replica of her lovely mum. Ava was far more of a little diva, and with her jet-black hair there was a definite resemblance to her father.
‘Stroke her, Nancy,’ Ava demanded.
Nancy smiled as Ava climbed on to her lap. She wondered if the reason she’d not bonded with her as much as Molly was because she saw Ava far less frequently. Since Joanna had moved deeper into Essex to a small village called Tillingham, they only met up once a month at most. It was difficult to speak on the phone regularly too. To prevent Ava’s existence from becoming known to the Butler clan, Joanna insisted that Nancy only ever call her from a phone box.
‘Why don’t you ring your mum, Nance, and ask if the boys can stay with her tonight? It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper catch-up, and my mum and dad are staying over anyway, so they’ll look after Ava. There’s a nightclub not too far from here that the locals call the “Four Views” which has a good disco on a Saturday night. Please say yes – we’ll have such a giggle.’
Nancy sighed. She hated asking her parents to have the boys overnight these days. Her father was always so bloody critical of their behaviour, especially Daniel’s, and she was sick of having to defend her sons, especially when she knew the criticism was justified. ‘Oh, I dunno, Jo. I promised my mum I’d pick the boys up by nine.’
Joanna squeezed her pal’s hand. Even from their infrequent conversations, she knew that Nancy had been down lately and could do with having some fun. ‘Don’t be so boring. It will be a laugh. When was the last time you let your hair down, eh?’
Nancy could not remember the last time she’d even had the chance to let her hair down. Michael might refer to the club as work, but at least he was still out socializing. She wasn’t. She was stuck indoors being a mother to three boys, one of whom didn’t even belong to her.
‘Sod it!’ she said, the decision made. ‘Pass me your phone, Jo.’
Ahmed Zane was living his dream. Having used a massive chunk of the money he’d earned through drug importation to build a fine hotel in Turkey, he had just enjoyed a luxurious stay in his homeland and flown back first-class. On arrival, he headed straight for the restaurant he co-owned with his cousin in Tottenham.
Burak was both surprised and pleased to see Ahmed. ‘What are you doing back so early? I thought your flight was not until Wednesday.’
Ahmed led his cousin into the office. ‘I heard some very interesting news, Burak. Hence my early return.’
‘What? About who?’
‘I think I have learned something that will fuck Vinny’s head up big time. In fact, it will probably explode when he hears!’
‘Tell me,’ Burak demanded, his tone overloaded with impatience.
Ahmed smirked. He and Vinny Butler had once been the closest of friends, but the car crash that killed poor Lenny had put an end to that. Ahmed could have forgiven Vinny for crashing the car. What he could not forgive was that his so-called best pal had dragged his unconscious body from the passenger seat and belted him into the driver’s seat, leaving him for fucking dead and framing him in the process.
Vinny’s excuse was that he’d thought Ahmed was already dead and panicked, but Ahmed was too cute to fall for that old chestnut. Vinny’s actions had been callous and calculating. A panicking man would have just legged it without stopping to move bodies and see to it that someone else took the rap.
Burak slammed a glass of Scotch on the table. ‘Why do you always do this, Ahmed? You half tell a story and then you fucking stop.’
Ahmed