Backstabber: The No. 1 bestseller at her shocking, gripping best – this book has a twist and a sting in its tail!. Kimberley Chambers
though, I’d like you to meet my new business partner and his wife. You’ll like Eddie Mitchell, he’s good craic. And Gina’s OK too. I’m sure you’ll have lots of girlie stuff in common. Shall I give ’em a bell, see if they’re free tonight? I’ll book a restaurant, take us somewhere nice.’
Felicity pecked Vinny on the lips. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Gina Mitchell was none too enthralled by the evening ahead. She’d met Vinny Butler on a couple of occasions in the past, but had yet to form any kind of connection with the man. Unlike her Eddie, who was a loveable rogue who liked a laugh, she could sense Vinny had more of a sinister serious side to him and little respect for women in general.
‘Cheer up, for Christ’s sake. We rarely go out on our own these days, so let’s make the most of it, eh? Vinny’s footing the bill an’ all, so make sure you order the most expensive champagne and food on the menu,’ Eddie Mitchell joked.
‘What’s Vinny’s girlfriend like? You told me in the past that he was destined to remain a bachelor for the rest of his life,’ Gina reminded her husband.
‘Well, he was. But a bit like me and you, I suppose, darlin’, love sometimes smacks you in the chops when you’re not exactly searching for it. I don’t know that much about Felicity, but Vinny’s definitely taken with her. She’s a lot younger than him – mid-to-late twenties, I think. Oh, and she used to work for him as a dancer at his Holborn club.’
When Gina turned to look out the car window, Eddie squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be worrying about the kids, they’ll be fine. You know how they adore Joey and vice versa.’
She wanted to bellow, I am not worried about our children, Eddie. I’m more concerned about trying to hold a conversation with your strange friend and his young stripper, but instead Gina bit her tongue. Her husband wasn’t a fool and if he deemed Vinny Butler to be a good enough man to go into business with, Gina knew she must make an effort for his sake.
‘Who is it?’ Queenie Butler shouted, her voice full of suspicion. Even though her new home was in a much nicer area than Whitechapel, after what had befallen Viv, no way was she taking any chances.
‘It’s me, Nan.’
Queenie opened the door and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Her grandson was holding a large bouquet, his wife a beautiful potted plant and her eldest great-grandson had a balloon with WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME scrawled across it. ‘This is unexpected. To what do I owe this pleasure?’
Little Vinny was Vinny’s eldest child and Queenie’s first grandchild. He put his free arm around his nan and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We’re neighbours now, aren’t we? Dad said he wasn’t about tonight and Sammi-Lou thought we’d surprise you. I’ll treat us to a takeaway.’
‘I’m not fond of that Indian or Chinese rubbish, as you well know. A nice bit of fish and chips’ll do me,’ Queenie said, hugging Sammi-Lou. Her grandson’s wife was, in Queenie’s eyes, a godsend. Though she was no ravishing beauty – she’d put on quite a bit of weight since having the children – she had a pretty enough face, but it was her personality that had won Queenie over. The girl had a heart of gold and Queenie only wished her own sons would take a leaf out of Little Vinny’s book and date an average-looking girl instead of the bloody glamour model types they seemed to go for. There’d been a time when Queenie had worried and despaired over Little Vinny’s future, but meeting Sammi-Lou and becoming a father had been the making of him.
‘It’s a nice bungalow, Nan. I like your kitchen. When you going to invite me round for a Sunday roast? Mum’s isn’t as good as yours,’ Oliver Butler said, winking at his mother.
Queenie gave her favourite great-grandson a hug. He was sixteen now, a proper little man. Unlike his father, who was a typical Butler male, tall and dark-haired, Oliver had the trademark Butler bright green eyes but was blond. ‘Where’s your brother?’ Queenie asked. Oliver had two brothers: Regan, the youngest, was currently serving a sentence for stabbing his school teacher; it was the middle child Queenie was referring to.
‘Calum’s gone round a pal’s to play Pokémon,’ Oliver replied.
Little Vinny raised his eyebrows. ‘How times have changed since I was a lad, eh, Nan? Kids don’t want to breathe fresh air or do much bar play computer games these days.’ The truth was, Calum had been in a foul mood and refused to visit Queenie, but Little Vinny didn’t want to hurt his grandmother’s feelings by telling her that.
‘Oh well, at least if Calum’s indoors playing games he can’t put you through what you did me. Little bastard, you were, out street-raking with that Ben Bloggs. Surprised I never went grey.’
Seeing her grandson’s relaxed expression change, Queenie grabbed him by the arm. ‘Your father and uncles were bastards an’ all. Now, come and look at the garden. I’ve decided to do a memorial fence in honour of Vivvy.’
Little Vinny followed his nan outside. She pointed to the right-hand fence and told him of her plans to put a plaque up, plus a framed photo of Viv. ‘I’ll plant a rose bush in her honour too. She loved a garden, did Vivvy, boy, and I can’t see myself going to that cemetery much. Be too upsetting, especially as it’s all still so raw. If and when those bastards finally decide to release her body, I’ll go to the funeral then remember her here for the time being. You and your dad can drive over there once a week to make sure the grave’s tidy, can’t you? Leave some fresh flowers an’ all. Vivvy’s going in the same grave as Lenny. Be nice, pair of ’em resting in peace together. It’s what she wanted.’
Little Vinny couldn’t speak. Lenny’s grave was very close to Molly’s and he hadn’t been able to visit that cemetery for years. How could he, after the atrocious crime he had committed? The guilt wouldn’t allow him to. It wasn’t right. But neither had he been, back in the day. Not right at all. In fact, he’d been evil.
Having dreaded the evening ahead, Gina Mitchell was pleasantly surprised. Vinny had been thoroughly charming and his pretty young girlfriend was adorable, rather posh and extremely good company.
Vinny clicked his fingers. ‘Another bottle of champers over ’ere, guv,’ he shouted, well aware that he and Eddie were the focus of the rest of the diners. With their swagger and sharp suits, they looked what they were: top-class villains. Both had evaded the law and had their fingers in many pies over the years while hiding behind legit businesses.
‘You still got the salvage yard, Ed? Not heard you mention it for yonks,’ Vinny asked.
‘Sold it a while back. I thought I told you. No need to hang on to it any longer. Everything’s above board for the first time in my life,’ Eddie chuckled. Unlike Vinny, who’d always owned a club or two, Ed’s enterprises, aside from the salvage business, had all been dodgy. Earnings from pub protection and loan-sharking weren’t exactly something you declared to the taxman. He’d made plenty of dosh over the decades, but these days Gina and the kids came first and he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks so he’d knocked everything bent on the head. He was looking forward to getting his teeth into the new venture, and had put the nasty surprise received yesterday to the back of his mind. He’d yet to tell Vinny that he thought the gypsies were behind it, but he planned to when the time was right.
‘Found a new number plate earlier: VB1. Gonna treat meself to it, put it on the new Range Rover. Arm and a leg job the price, mind,’ Vinny bragged.
Eddie burst out laughing. ‘You bell-end. I remember you telling me private number plates were a waste of wonga and a curse, ’cause every bastard clocks where you are. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb with that one, pal.’
Vinny shrugged. ‘As you said, we’re all above board now, so why not? I certainly haven’t got any enemies, so if you have, best you speak up now.’
Eddie gave Vinny a warning look. He had told him earlier that under no circumstances was he to mention the dead rats to Gina as he didn’t want to worry her. ‘Oh well, each to their own, mate.’
Aware