The Wronged: No parent should ever have to bury their child.... Kimberley Chambers
doing odd jobs five days a week. It made him feel useful, something he’d never felt in all the years he’d been married to Queenie.
As a young man, Albie had been handsome, full of life and could have had his pick of women. Queenie had done all the chasing and, after a whirlwind romance, Albie married her. Life was good until Queenie fell pregnant. From the moment Vinny was born, things had gone from bad to worse. Vivian was always at their house, and Albie was pushed to one side. No wonder he’d ended up a drunken womanizer. Queenie had only ever wanted sex to make babies, and Albie had spent more nights sleeping on the sofa than in their marital bed.
‘What’s up, Dad? You having a Dorothy moment?’
Albie sighed wistfully. He’d found love with a woman in later life. Dorothy was a wonderful lady who’d restored his faith in the female of the species. They’d been so happy living in Ipswich at his brother Bert’s house, until she’d passed away suddenly. ‘Sort of, boy. I wish I’d have married Dorothy instead of your mother. Then we could have spent many more happy years together.’
Michael sat down next to his father. He knew exactly how Albie felt. His own romance, with a model called Bella, had been short-lived but truly unforgettable. Michael had ended it for the sake of his boys, but he had never forgotten the stunning brunette who’d stolen his heart. He’d even tried to find her once, but had been told by the new tenants that Bella had moved to New York. Nancy had no knowledge of the affair. The only people who did were his dad and Vinny.
Hating to see his old man down, Michael playfully punched him on the arm. ‘If you hadn’t married me mother, then I would’ve never existed. Thanks very much, Dad.’
Albie smiled. Unlike Vinny, who’d once beaten him up so badly he’d ended up in hospital with broken legs and ribs, Michael had been a wonderful son. ‘I’ll never forget how kind you’ve been to me, boy. But I do worry what will happen when your brother gets out. He ain’t gonna want me working here, is he?’
Michael gritted his teeth. He could foresee many problems on the horizon when Vinny got released, but was determined to stand his ground. ‘You leave Vinny to me. Your job will be safe, I can assure you of that. I ain’t Michael the kid brother any more. I am Michael the fucking adult and Vinny’s going to have to accept that.’
Vivian was sitting on a deck chair in Queenie’s back garden, reminiscing about the past. Kings Holiday Park in Eastbourne had been such a big part of their lives, until Vinny started a ruckus that got them barred from the clubhouse.
‘Do you remember that time you got pissed and tried to snog Des O’Connor, Viv? And you used to have the hots for that Mick who ran the amusement arcade.’
Vivian laughed. ‘Talk about pot calling kettle! You might come across all prim and proper, but I know you fancied Ray King. You used to act all silly every time he pulled up in his Rolls-Royce. And what about the time you embarrassed yourself outside the launderette?’
Queenie felt her cheeks blush. Ray King had been the owner of the holiday park, and even though she’d most definitely had the hots for him, she’d never admit it, not even to Viv. Hurriedly she changed the subject: ‘’Ere, look – it’s that thing that killed the bird I found earlier. Look at its eyes. They’re evil,’ she said, pointing at the ginger-and-white moggy who was sitting on the fence staring at her.
About to remark that the cat’s eyes reminded her of Vinny’s, Vivian bit her tongue. ‘It’s called Chester. I heard her next door calling it yesterday for its grub,’ she said. ‘I bumped into Nosy Hilda round the shops this morning and she filled me in on the set-up. That ain’t her old man living there, it’s her brother. The other tart is his wife. Them boys are hers though. Little sods they are, by all accounts. Hilda said they took the right piss out of Mr Arthur the other day ’cause he was wearing his war medals. And they’ve already been caught stealing off the market. Her name’s Shell. The boys are Kurt and Brad. I can’t remember the others’ names, although Hilda did tell me.’
‘Shell! What, as in a bleedin’ sea shell? That’s all we need, two little tea-leaves living next door. What’s the betting they try to burgle us while we’re up the Roman one Saturday?’
‘I think we should knock there, Queen. Let ’em know exactly who we are. They need to show a bit of respect. Their music system must be right next to my lounge wall. I couldn’t even hear me Brookside properly last night. They were playing that black man’s music again. I’m not putting up with that.’
‘It’s Bob Marley.’
‘Oh, is that her brother’s name? I could have sworn blind Hilda said it was something different.’
‘No. It’s Bob Marley records they keep playing, you daft bat.’
About to ask who the hell Bob Marley was, Vivian gasped as the cat leapt off the fence and grabbed a little robin by its throat. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt! Do something, Queen.’
Queenie picked up her hoe. She loved birds and welcomed them into her garden with the lovely bird table that she hung food from on a daily basis. ‘Get away, you ginger-and-white bastard,’ she screamed.
As the hoe came towards him, Chester fled without his prey. Queenie bent down and saw the terrified bird take its last breath. ‘We won’t be lowering ourselves by knocking there, Viv. I need a brandy to calm my nerves, then we’ll ring Michael. He can do the honours. I must bury this bird first though. Poor little mite.’
Ahmed and Burak were on their way to the Butlers’ club. Sunday lunchtimes were when the strippers performed and Ahmed liked to pop in at least twice a month as he knew Michael did not like him.
‘Any more news on the kid?’ Burak asked.
‘I rang the private detective yesterday, but it went on to answerphone. If he does not get back to me in the next day or two, I will sack him and hire the guy that Tarkan recommended.’
‘Please say if you think I am speaking out of turn, Ahmed, but I am bemused why Tarkan suddenly wants to be your best buddy. He’s had no dealings with Vinny, so has no reason to hate him like we do. I find it slightly suspicious that he has found what is supposedly Vinny’s daughter, yet could not find that prick Carl Thompson when he turned out to be such a fucking liability to us.’
‘What are you trying to say? That Tarkan warned Thompson that I was trying to kill him? No way, Burak. I have known Tarkan for years and he wouldn’t dare cross me. Us Turks stick together.’
‘Tarkan’s half English,’ Burak reminded his cousin. ‘So, what is the point of our visit today? To wind that flash wanker Michael up again?’
‘No. Little Vinny rang me twice in the week. He seems extremely upset that his father’s cellmate will soon be working at the club, and I think he’s fallen out with his girlfriend as well. This is the perfect opportunity for us to entice him into our clutches again. Then on a drunken night out, I shall accidentally drop the bombshell that his daddy killed his mummy.’
Burak chuckled. He could never understand why his cousin hadn’t just killed Vinny off years ago instead of waiting to have his revenge. But Ahmed was a complex character at times, and loved nothing more than fucking people up mentally.
As Ahmed laughed and joked, he had no idea that his cousin had been spot on in his estimation of Tarkan Smith. He was not the loyal friend Ahmed thought he was at all.
Ye Olde White Harte in Burnham-on-Crouch overlooked the quay where the boats and yachts were moored. The late-July weather was glorious and Johnny was thankful that not only had his wife cheered up, his daughter seemed on top form as well.
‘Why you not eating your dinner, Ava?’ Johnny asked, stroking his granddaughter’s dark glossy hair.
Ava protruded her bottom lip as she often did when bored. ‘Don’t want it. Can I go and play?’ she asked, pointing at two children who were skipping nearby.
Joanna looked around. Ava was a very bright child for her age. Her elocution was good and she often asked