The Trap

by Chambers, Kimberley

  ‘Get out, all of you. Get out now,’ Donald bellowed.

  Heads held high, Queenie and Vivian strutted out of the door as proud as peacocks.

  ‘And I don’t want your dirty money,’ Donald said, picking up the twenty-pound note and chucking it back at Vinny.

  Vinny did not like Donald one little bit. In his eyes he was nothing more than a jumped-up pompous prick. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Christopher had lied on his behalf, Vinny would have upped him there and then. ‘The money’s yours, if you don’t want it, give it to your kids,’ he ordered.

  ‘Am I barred too?’ Freda asked Donald.

  ‘Yes. Get out,’ Donald yelled.

  Terrified that Donald and Vinny were now going to start fighting, Mary took Nancy upstairs. ‘I don’t like it here, Mummy. Can we please move back to Stoke Newington?’ the girl sobbed.

  Realizing that they now had no spectators, Vinny gave Donald his special stare. ‘I’d watch your back if I was you, mate. No-one speaks to my mother and aunt like shit and gets away with it, and I mean fucking no-one.’

  When Vinny walked out and slammed the door, Donald quickly locked it, then crouched down with his head in his hands. They had only been in Whitechapel for a short while and already their lives were in ruins. There was no way back after today’s events. Whether Mary liked it or not, Donald was determined to put his foot down now. The quicker he got his family away from this God-forsaken area, the better.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Queenie Butler absolutely loved Christmas. The festive season was all about family, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than having all her brood around her. She opened the oven door to check on the sausage rolls and mince pies. Most women that she knew did the bulk of their cooking on Christmas Eve, so all they had to concentrate on the following day was cooking their vegetables. Not Queenie though. She had been up since six pottering about in the kitchen as she wanted everything to be nice and fresh. Only the best for her family.

  Queenie grinned as Vivian let herself in and Lenny bounded up to her. ‘Has Santa been yet, Auntie Queenie? Mummy said he was delivering my presents to your house this year because he knew I would be here.’

  ‘Yes, Santa’s been, but he told me to tell you that you’re not allowed to open your presents until Vinny and Roy arrive,’ Queenie said, giving her wonderful nephew a loving hug.

  ‘Vinny not here yet? I hope he still ain’t got the hump with us,’ Vivian said, referring to the altercation in the café the previous day.

  Vinny had been none too pleased when he had driven his mum and aunt home. ‘Why did you have to go in there of all places and kick off? You know their little boy lied for me in the identification parade. Think before you act in future, for Christ’s sake,’ Vinny had bellowed.

  Queenie sent Lenny upstairs to tell Brenda and Michael to get their skates on, then turned to her sister. ‘Vinny’ll be fine, Viv. Loves the bones of me and you, you know he does. I’m sure he had something else on his mind yesterday and that’s why he went on the turn. Them people in the café won’t kick up no fuss. Didn’t you see the petrified look on that Donald’s face when you started whacking him with your brolly?’

  Vivian couldn’t control the fit of giggles that followed. ‘And what about when you punched him in the side of the head? That overbearing wife of his started squealing like a pig.’

  Laughing hysterically, Queenie held her crotch with one hand to prevent herself wetting her knickers, clinging onto her sister’s arm with the other. ‘What are we like, eh Viv?’

  ‘Salts of the earth, Queenie. Salts of the earth, girl,’ Vivian roared.

  Less than a mile down the road, the festive spirit in the Walker household was anything but jovial.

  ‘Well?’ Donald asked, when Christopher pulled the wrapping paper off the plastic policeman’s helmet.

  Unable to stop himself, Christopher burst into uncontrollable tears. How could he ever wear that hat and join the police force now after he had told such an awful lie?

  ‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ Mary asked, holding her sobbing son in her arms.

  Christopher could hide the truth no longer. ‘I lied to the police. Vinny did kill that man. I saw him do it.’

  Outraged by his son’s confession, Donald let out a few expletives, then clouted the boy around his ear. ‘How could you lie to the police, Christopher? Your mother and I brought you up to be honest. Disgusted with you, I am. Bloody appalled!’

  When Nancy began to cry as well, Mary ordered her husband to calm himself. ‘Hitting Christopher is not the answer here, Donald. You need to take him down to the police station to sort this mess out once and for all.’

  ‘Why did you lie to us all, boy? Why?’ Donald bellowed, his face red with temper.

  ‘Vinny threatened to hurt you, Mum and Nancy if I told the truth. Please don’t tell the police, Dad. Vinny scares me so much,’ Christopher begged.

  Donald paced up and down the room in a total frenzy.

  ‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault,’ Mary soothed, putting a comforting arm around her son.

  ‘Please can we go back to Stoke Newington, Mum? Me and Christopher hate living here,’ Nancy pleaded.

  ‘Let’s see what happens after your dad has spoken to the police, love,’ Mary croaked, in a voice that sounded nothing like her own.

  Donald turned to his wife. ‘I am not going to the police. Our lives will be hell if Christopher now admits to what he saw. He will be tarnished as a liar for the rest of his life, and we will forever be looking over our shoulders for repercussions from the Butler family.’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest we do then, Donald? A man has died. We can’t just let his killer roam the streets,’ Mary pointed out.

  ‘Oh, yes we can. We have to for our own safety. I will not have my children’s lives put in danger, Mary. We must pack up our belongings and leave this café immediately. We can then put the property on the market, and start afresh in a much nicer area.’

  ‘But we can’t just do a moonlight flit, Donald. I love this café. You know I do.’

  ‘And I love my children and you, Mary, which is why we have to leave.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I lied to you, Dad,’ Christopher cried. He felt so guilty. Everything was his fault.

  Donald crouched down and stared his son in the eyes. ‘You did what you thought was right to protect your family, son, and I’m sorry that I hit you. What you told us today, I want you to now forget about. Can you do that for me?’

  Relieved that he wasn’t about to be carted off to the police station, Christopher managed a weak smile. ‘Yes, Dad.’

  Donald stood up. ‘And that goes for all of us. What Christopher admitted to today, I never want to hear mentioned again. Do we all agree on that?’

  When her mother nodded her head, Nancy did the same.

  ‘Right, that’s settled then. Now, let’s start packing. The quicker we get out of this hellhole, the better.’

  Donald fitted as many of his family’s belongings into the boot of the car as he could, then darted back into the café. Being Christmas Day, the street was empty, and that had pleased him immensely.

  ‘Where are we going to live then, Dad?’ Christopher asked chirpily. The thought of never having to see Vinny Butler again was already a weight off his young shoulders.

  ‘We are going to stay with your Auntie Phyllis in Ilford for a couple of days, and once the Christmas period is over, I will find us a place of our own to live.’

  When Donald ordered the children to get in the car, Mary looked at her husband in despair.

  ‘I know you’re upset, my darling, but we will open another café one day, I promise you that,’ Donald said, sadly.

  Unable to stop herself, Mary turned around to take one last look at her broken dream. She then burst into a sea of tears.

  Vivian wiped the last of the dishes with the tea towel, then patted her bloated stomach. ‘Bleedin’ handsome that turkey, weren’t it? Melted in me mou
th, it did. You cooked that to a tee.’

  Ignoring the compliment, Queenie whispered in her sister’s ear. ‘Something is wrong with my Vinny today. He ain’t himself, you know, and he left all his Christmas pudding. He always eats his pudding, Vivvy.’

  ‘Perhaps he was full up, Queenie. It was a big dinner you cooked. Vinny seems all right to me. He’s been laughing and joking with the kids all day,’ Vivian whispered back.

  Queenie shook her head. Nobody knew her Vinny like she did and something was troubling him. ‘Come on, let’s go and put some music on in the lounge.’

  The sing-a-long was still going strong two hours later. Michael had bought his mum a Gracie Fields album for Christmas and Queenie and Vivian were even doing the hand movements as they sang ‘Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Goodbye’ for the fourth time at the top of their voices.

  ‘Can we please have some rock and roll on now, Mum?’ Lenny asked impatiently, tugging on Vivian’s arm.

  ‘No. I want to play the Beatles,’ Brenda whinged.

  ‘Let Lenny put his rock and roll on first, Bren, then you can put your Beatles on straight after,’ Queenie ordered.

  When the sound of Buddy Holly filled the lounge, Queenie proudly studied her boys. All three were incredibly handsome and looked so smart today. Vinny and Roy were always suited and booted, but even Michael was dressed up in his blue tonic suit and as he discussed a bit of business regarding the club with Roy, Queenie thought how grown-up he suddenly seemed.

  Aware that Vinny wasn’t really listening to his brothers’ conversation, Queenie watched him light up his cigar. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he took his first puff and she wondered if it was to do with the man he had accidently stabbed to death.

  Even though as a mother Queenie knew you should love all your children equally, she had always had a special bond with her Vinny. He was her first-born, so surely the way she felt about him was understandable?

  ‘You OK, Mum?’ Vinny asked, clocking his mother staring at him.

  Queenie jumped out of the armchair and gestured to her eldest.

  Vinny followed his mum upstairs and sat awkwardly on the edge of her bed. ‘You’re not missing Dad, are you?’ he asked her.

  ‘You having a bleedin’ laugh, or what? Best Christmas I’ve ever had without that drunken old drop-out sitting in the chair scratching his cobblers.’

  Vinny chuckled.

  ‘What’s up, boy? You ain’t yourself today. Are you still annoyed with me and Vivvy for kicking up a stink in that café?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I could never have the hump with you and Auntie Viv for long.’

  ‘Well, what is it then? Is it that man who died? You can’t blame yourself for that, Vinny. It was two against one, and you never meant to kill him. It was an accident, son.’

  Vinny took a deep breath. He had to tell somebody his little secret, and there was nobody in the world better to confide in than his beloved mother. ‘I’ve got a girl pregnant, and she wants to keep the baby,’ he blurted out.

  Queenie was momentarily stunned. Since that little slag Yvonne Summers had broken Vinny’s heart many years ago, she had never even known him to court again. ‘Who is she, boy? Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?’

  Vinny put his head in his hands and propped his elbows on his knees. ‘She ain’t my girlfriend, Mum. She is a pretty girl who works at the club who I’ve had a couple of flings with.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you put a thingy on the end of it?’ Queenie asked, accusingly.

  ‘I did, well, apart from the once. What am I gonna do, Mum? I’ve offered her big bucks to get rid of the kid, but she knocked the dosh back.’

  Unable to stop herself, Queenie slapped her pride and joy around the face to bring him to his senses. ‘You will not kill my grandchild, Vinny. I will not allow that to happen.’

  ‘But, I don’t even like the girl, Mum. I ain’t getting lumbered with her for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Who is she? Is she a decent girl?

  Feeling more embarrassed than ever before, Vinny shook his head. ‘No, she’s a stripper.’

  Instead of scolding him for being stupid as her son expected her to, Queenie squeezed both of his hands and looked him in the eyes. ‘Buy the child off her, boy. Offer her what she wants to give birth to it, then I’ll bring it up for you.’

  Vinny was astounded by his mother’s strange suggestion. ‘I can’t do that, Mum. I’m only twenty and I don’t want no ties.’

  ‘It won’t be your tie, it’ll be mine. You listen to me, Vinny, and you listen good and proper. You need something in your life to calm that temper of yours down. Being a father will save you from going to prison, I guarantee that. God works in mysterious ways, and this will prove to be your saviour, I just know it will. Look how good you are with kids. Lenny worships the ground you walk on, so imagine having a little Champ running around who is actually your own. You can’t murder your own child, boy. That baby will be my first grandchild and I would never forgive you if you took that away from me.’

  Not wanting to admit to his mum that he had thought about bumping off Karen and the baby by drowning them in the Thames, Vinny suddenly felt a surge of guilt and had tears in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t get upset, boy. Everything will be all right, your mum will make sure of that,’ Queenie said, cradling him to her chest.

  Vinny quickly pulled himself together. His mother was never wrong. Whatever advice she had ever given him in the past had always been proven as sound, so why should he doubt her wisdom this time round?

  ‘Well? What you gonna do?’ Queenie asked.

  Vinny smiled at her. ‘I will sort out a deal with Karen and then we will bring up my baby together, Mum.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Summer 1971

  Nancy Walker felt a surge of excitement as she took in the electric atmosphere of the funfair. The waft of fried onions hung heavily in the air, music was being played at full blast, and the sound of laughter was prominent wherever you walked. Nancy’s dad had never allowed her go to the fair with just a friend before. He said the rides were run by gypsies and they preyed on innocent young girls like herself. It had been her mum who had come up trumps for her in the end. She had argued that now Nancy was sixteen and in full-time employment, she was old enough to make her own decisions.

  ‘I just love the smell of fairgrounds, don’t you?’ Nancy said to her best friend, Rhonda Gibbs. Nancy had met Rhonda soon after her family had moved to Ilford from Whitechapel. They had been in the same class at school, and were rarely seen out and about without one another now. They even had jobs working side by side in their local Woolworth’s store.

  ‘Yep. I love the smell too. Shall we get some candy floss? Or a toffee apple?’ Rhonda suggested.

  Nancy giggled. ‘We have come over here to see if we can find the men of our dreams, Rhon. Candy floss and toffee apples are hardly man magnets. If we are munching on them, we are gonna look like kids.’

  ‘But you’ve already found the man of your dreams. You’ve got Roger,’ Rhonda joked.

  Nancy punched her pal playfully on the arm. Roger Robins was the son of her parents’ friends, Margaret and Derrick. At twenty-one, Roger worked for a branch of Barclays Bank in London. On numerous occasions, he had invited Nancy to go dancing or to the pictures, but much to her parents’ dismay, Nancy had politely declined.

  With her size-eight figure, ample breasts, and long blonde hair, Nancy wanted a bit more out of life than boring Roger. The pop star Marc Bolan was Nancy’s perfect vision of a man. Marc was wild, cool and handsome, everything that Roger wasn’t. Nancy liked excitement and she would rather entertain a bad boy any day of the week than date some complete and utter bore.

  ‘Wow! He’s nice,’ Rhonda exclaimed.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘He’s got shoulder-length dark hair and is standing by the coconut shy with a group of lads.’

  Nancy surreptitiously glanced
around. ‘All of them have shoulder-length dark hair. What’s he wearing?’

  ‘A cream flowery-patterned shirt and brown flared trousers.’

  Fashion had changed immensely since the sixties when drainpipe trousers and button-collared shirts had been all the rage for young men. The Mod era had also now come to an end and the hippy look had taken over as the new trend. Spotting the guy who Rhonda had referred to, Nancy screwed her face up. ‘Nah. His nose is too big for his face, Rhon. You know I have a thing about little button noses.’

  Hearing the current song by Middle of the Road being blasted out of the speakers on a nearby ride, both girls linked arms. Giggling, because they were aware that the group of boys were now watching them, Nancy and Rhonda began wiggling their hips and singing the words to ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’.

  Vinny and Queenie Butler smiled proudly at one another as Little Vinny put on his boxing gloves and started to spar with his Uncle Roy. Roy was kneeling on the carpet and when his nephew caught him on the chin, Roy fell backwards to pretend he had been knocked out cold.

  ‘He’s a real natural, ain’t he, Mum? I knew he would be,’ Vinny gushed.

  ‘He’s a little bruiser. A proper Butler boy, just like his daddy was at his age,’ Queenie chuckled.

  Buying his son off Karen had been one of the best decisions that Vinny had ever made. It had cost him three grand, but had been worth every penny. Being a stripper, Karen wouldn’t exactly have been his first choice of woman to bear his child, but she was a stunning bird, and with his own dark smouldering looks, his son was always destined to be a handsome kid.

  Karen hadn’t wanted to part with her baby at first. She’d had delusions of Vinny marrying her and the three of them becoming one big happy family. It took the wad of cash, plus a few threats, to finally make Karen see sense and flee the area. Vinny had never heard from her since and had no wish to. His son had all the family he needed. He had told Little Vinny that his mother was dead, and if Karen ever caused him any trouble, he knew he could quite easily turn his little white lie into the truth.