The Trap. Kimberley Chambers
End who would have the nerve to accuse him of killing Old Jack and Ethel’s son. She was spot-on actually. Fifteen-year-old Peter had had a habit of exposing himself to young girls and had one day made the fatal mistake of touching up a neighbour’s eleven-year-old daughter and forcing her to touch him in an undesirable place. Absolutely fuming, Vinny had decided to rid Whitechapel of such an unsavoury character and a few weeks later Peter was found at the bottom of the Thames.
Vinny turned around in his seat. He loved winding the old battleaxe up. The café wasn’t packed, but Vinny could see the worried expressions on the other diners’ faces. ‘Spouting cock and bull again, are you, Freda? Can’t be long now until they cart you off to that funny farm,’ he said.
‘Sod all wrong with my marbles. I know exactly what yous Butlers are and unlike everyone else round ’ere, I ain’t bleedin’ frightened to tell you either. You can do me in next for all I care,’ Freda yelled, stomping out of the café.
Vinny chuckled and raised his eyebrows to fellow customers. It didn’t bother him that Freda accused him of being a murderer in public. In fact, she was doing him a favour as it just made people fear him more.
With no-one waiting to be served, Mary darted out into the kitchen to fill Donald in on what had just happened.
Aware that the young boy’s eyes were on him once again, Vinny smiled at Christopher. He had already recognized him as the one who had been sitting opposite the snooker club earlier. ‘Can you show me how to use your jukebox?’
Christopher ran over to the Wurlitzer. Vinny put on Roger Miller’s ‘King of the Road’, which happened to remind him of himself, then handed the child half a crown.
Absolutely ecstatic at the unexpected gift, Christopher ran out to the kitchen to show his parents.
‘Who gave you that?’ Donald asked, his face reddening with anger, knowing only too well who it was likely to be.
‘The man in the suit gave it to me because I taught him how to use the jukebox,’ Christopher explained.
‘Can I have some money too, Daddy?’ Nancy asked, tugging her father’s sleeve.
Donald was fuming. He wanted no involvement with this Butler family and he had always forbidden his children to accept money or gifts from strangers. ‘What have I told you about taking money off people, eh?’ he said, dragging Christopher out of the kitchen by his arm.
‘Stop it, Daddy. You’re hurting me,’ Christopher said, bursting into tears.
‘Donald, stop overreacting for goodness’ sake,’ Mary urged him. She didn’t want to upset or make a scene in front of their customers.
Vinny had just dotted his cigarette out and was about to leave when Donald marched up to him with Christopher in tow. ‘Is this the man?’ he asked his son.
The little boy was sobbing. He not only felt embarrassed, he wanted to keep his half a crown. Nodding his head, Christopher stared at his feet in shame.
‘Excuse me, sir. It was very kind of you to give my son this money, but I’m afraid I have brought my children up not to accept gifts off people they do not know, so I insist you take it back.’
Vinny stared Donald in the eyes and immediately disliked him. He could tell he was one of life’s do-gooders. ‘It wasn’t a gift. Your son earned it by showing me how to use the jukebox,’ Vinny replied casually.
‘Well, Christopher won’t be accepting it all the same,’ Donald said, putting the coin on the table and dragging his son away.
About to tell Donald that he should get off his fucking moral high horse, Vinny saw Christopher’s distraught little face glance around and decided not to bother. The old man was obviously a twat, so what was the point of upsetting the kid even more? Slipping the half a crown into his pocket, Vinny nodded politely at Mary, and quietly left the café.
CHAPTER FOUR
Determined that their father being hospitalized wouldn’t spoil their younger brother’s sixteenth birthday, Vinny and Roy got up with the larks the following morning and walked around to their mother’s house, pushing the moped between them.
Both Vinny and Roy had stayed at the club again last night and Roy had just suggested to his brother that they have the upstairs decorated properly so that they could live there permanently.
‘I dunno. We’ve got to pay that conning bastard Geary fifteen hundred quid next week, which will leave the coffers a bit lean, Roy. Not only that, I like to keep a daily eye on Mum and Auntie Viv and make sure Champ is OK. Leave the idea with me and I’ll have to think about it.’
Due to the freezing December temperature and the lack of heating in his bedroom, Michael decided to skip having a wash until after he’d had a cup of tea to warm himself up.
Queenie sang ‘Happy Birthday’, as her son galloped down the stairs.
‘Thanks, Mum. Is there any tea in the pot? Bleedin’ taters, I am.’
‘It’s just started snowing, boy. Told you yesterday the sky looked full of snow, didn’t I? Bet you’re glad you took this week off work, eh?’
Michael nodded. He had left school earlier in the year and was working as a trainee mechanic in a local garage. He loved the job as he loved tinkering with cars and bikes, but the money was crap, and the garage was freezing cold this time of year.
‘I’m gonna pop up the hospital and take your father his toothbrush and razor before we go out for lunch. Do you wanna come with me so he can wish you happy birthday?’ Queenie asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll come,’ Michael replied without hesitation. Unlike his brothers, he was actually very fond of his father. He often went for a pint with him on Sunday lunchtimes and he was upset that his dad had been set upon by those bloody yobs.
‘Many happy returns, bruv,’ Roy said, giving Michael a manly hug.
‘Is it present time yet?’ Queenie asked excitedly.
‘Sure is,’ Vinny grinned.
Ordering Roy to go and get Vivian so she wouldn’t miss out on the fun, Queenie handed Michael a parcel. ‘That’s from me and your dad. Your brothers picked it, so if you don’t like it, blame them,’ she chuckled.
Michael was thrilled when he unwrapped the paper and saw the blue Fred Perry polo shirt. ‘That’s well nice, Mum. I’ll wear it today,’ he said. Fred Perry shirts were really in for Mods at the moment. His best mate Kev had two of them.
‘Happy birthday, Michael,’ Lenny said, running into the house with a handmade card in his hand.
Michael hugged his nephew to his chest. ‘Cheers, Champ.’
‘Right, you ready for mine and Roy’s present?’ Vinny asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Follow me then,’ Vinny ordered.
Queenie and Vivian followed the boys out the front and clapped their hands with glee when Michael caught his first glimpse of the trendy moped.
‘Oh my God! It’s a Lambretta! Is it really all mine?’ he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.
Vinny threw him the key. ‘Yep, it’s all yours. Me and Roy have got another surprise for you as well, but you won’t find out what that is until we get to the restaurant.’
‘Bloody hell! This is the best birthday ever,’ Michael exclaimed, throwing his leg over the saddle. He already knew how to ride a moped. Kev had got one over a month ago and had let his friend ride it many a time.
‘Be careful because that bleedin’ snow’s settling,’ Vivian yelled, as Michael fired the engine up.
‘So, what other surprise have you got for him?’ Queenie asked Vinny and Roy.
‘A