Backstabber. Kimberley Chambers
‘Answer that phone. I’m doing my make-up,’ Joyce shouted out.
Stanley did as he was told, then relayed the message to his wife. ‘That was Eddie. He said Frankie’s bringing Georgie and Harry with her, but you’re not to worry as he’s invited some other kids to keep them occupied.’
Dropping her make-up brush, Joyce looked at her husband in despair. ‘But they can’t come. I’ve invited Rita and Hilda now, and Jock and your pigeon club mates. We can’t have the monsters running riot amongst friends, Stanley. Whatever will they think?’ Joyce wasn’t a big fan of her gypsy great-grandchildren. They were terribly behaved and reminded her of all the bad things that had happened over the years. If Frankie hadn’t got in with that Jed O’Hara, her Jessica would still be alive today.
Stanley shrugged. ‘Eddie better not be bringing his kids by that other woman. He’s not, is he?’ Eddie Mitchell was remarried now to a woman called Gina and Stanley had no wish to meet her or her children.
‘No. Eddie’s coming with Vinny Butler and his mum, Queenie.’
‘Vinny Butler! Jesus wept, Joycie! I know you love mixing with the criminal fraternity, but you’re asking for bleedin’ trouble inviting those Butlers to our home. They’re rotten to the core, you silly woman.’
‘That was my dad. Vinny Butler’s son is coming and bringing his kids, so Georgie and Harry will have some company. I do hope they don’t start performing, Stuart. I can tell my nan don’t like them very much.’
Stuart held his pretty fiancée in his arms and stroked her long dark hair. Frankie had changed since Georgie and Harry’s return. She’d lost a lot of weight and her once happy persona had all but disappeared. ‘Today will be fine. Kids will be kids – there’s no point worrying about it, babe.’
Frankie clung to Stuart, taking in the smell of his familiar aftershave. What she would have done without him these past six months she did not know. He was her rock and she could never have coped alone.
In Queenie Butler’s opinion, she looked bloody good for her seventy-four years. Her shoulder-length straight hair was regularly dyed blonde and she wouldn’t be seen dead without her make-up on. She was still the same ten dress size as when she’d got married and, considering she was short, Queenie classed that as an achievement. Both herself and Vivian had loathed the thought of ever letting themselves go.
‘You look beautiful, Mum,’ Vinny told her. His mother hadn’t wanted to attend Eddie’s ex-mother-in-law’s birthday bash, but Vinny had managed to talk her round by pretending she was doing both he and Eddie a big favour. He was desperate for his mum to make friends in Essex and was hoping that she and Joycie would hit it off. Like most people, including Eddie, Vinny always referred to Joyce as Joycie.
Queenie picked up her handbag. She and Vivian had always had a passion for dressing up in nice clothes and it felt weird getting glammed up without her sister’s presence. ‘I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, but I’m not staying long, Vinny. It doesn’t feel right, not with Vivvy still lying on a slab. In fact, I think I might get changed, wear black instead.’
‘No, don’t. That green really suits you and Auntie Viv wouldn’t want you walking around for weeks on end wearing black. She liked bright colours, and she’d want you to try and enjoy yourself today, wouldn’t she?’
‘Fat chance of that happening. Come on; let’s go before I change my mind.’
‘Hurry up, Sammi. The boys are ravenous and so am I,’ Little Vinny urged.
‘I can’t do my jeans up and I look like an elephant. You go with the boys and I’ll stay here.’
Little Vinny opened the bedroom door. His wife had put on a stone and a half since they’d first met, but he had no issues about her weight at all and wished he could convince her how stunning she was. ‘You’ve got to come, Sammi. I want us all to go as a family.’
‘But we don’t even know the woman whose birthday it is, Vin. No way am I turning up at someone’s party without a present. We’ll have to stop at a florist’s on the way.’
‘OK. We’ll get a bouquet and a card if it makes you happy. And you will look beautiful in whatever you wear, so just put a spurt on,’ Little Vinny ordered, playfully squeezing Sammi-Lou’s backside. Meeting Sammi had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. They had three sons whom they doted on and couldn’t wait for their youngest Regan to be allowed home. He was currently serving a bit of juvenile bird for stabbing his school teacher with a pair of scissors, but had behaved himself since and all being well would be released in the next few months.
When her husband locked the bedroom door, Sammi-Lou scolded him as he began kissing around her neck. He knew she found that a turn-on. ‘I thought you was in a rush. We can’t, not now. The boys will hear us.’
Little Vinny grinned as he put his wife’s hand on his erect penis. ‘Nah, they won’t. We’ll be extra quiet.’
The four-bedroomed house that Joyce and Stanley now lived in had once been Jessica and Eddie’s marital home. Eddie had signed it over to Joyce whilst in prison, insisting it was what Jessica would have wanted. Stanley saw it as a guilty gesture and blood money, but instead of telling Eddie where to stick his unusual offer, Joyce, being the boastful show-off that she was, could not wait to collect their belongings from their old house in Upney and up sticks for good.
Panicking at the thought of her great-grandchildren embarrassing her, Joyce was running around like a blue-arsed fly to keep herself busy. ‘Tidy up that corner again by your armchair. The guests will be arriving soon,’ she shrieked.
‘Stop getting in such a two and eight, woman. And they’re not guests. They’re friends and family – well, apart from the notorious underworld figures you’ve invited. They’re guests, unwanted ones.’
Brett Mitchell stared miserably out of the window of Stuart’s motor. He had been really looking forward to seeing his granddad and great-grandparents, until Harry had threatened to drown him in the swimming pool earlier. Now he didn’t want to go to the party. Water scared him and he couldn’t swim very well. ‘I feel ill, Mum. Can I go to Granddad’s house instead? I have a bellyache and want to lie down,’ Brett lied.
‘Bellyache! What’s that when it’s at home?’ Harry taunted, grabbing his little brother in a none-too-gentle headlock.
‘Stop that, Harry. Leave your brother alone, love,’ Frankie ordered. ‘Brett, you must come to the party. Nanny Joycie will be upset if you’re not there, and you don’t want to spoil her birthday, do you? You can lie down on her bed until your tummy ache has gone.’
Stuart watched surreptitiously through the interior mirror. He was sure that little bastard Harry had been picking on Brett, but he’d yet to catch him in the act. He’d even asked Brett in a roundabout way, but Brett had denied there was any issue.
‘Tummy ache,’ Harry said in a silly voice. A warning nudge and look from his big sister stopped him from saying anything else.
Stuart kept half an eye on the mirror and finally saw Harry pinch his prey. Brett winced, and Stuart angrily slammed his foot on the brake.
‘What’s the matter?’ Frankie asked.
‘I’m taking Brett round your dad’s. He looks a bit peaky to me. Gina will look after him.’
Feeling a sense of relief wash over him, Brett’s heartbeat returned to normal.
When Jessica was killed, Joyce swore she wanted nothing more to do with Eddie Mitchell, but time was a healer and she knew how much Ed had loved her daughter. Apart from a few minor ups and downs, they really had been the perfect couple until that fateful evening in Tilbury.
‘Eddie, thank you so much. They’re beautiful,’ Joyce gushed, waving the bouquet in the air so her old neighbours Rita and Hilda could see her lovely flowers. She knew they were jealous of her closeness to Eddie. He was a somebody