The Kings Holiday Park shop was extremely handy between visits to the nearest supermarket. It sold everything from eggs and bacon to postcards and lilos.
‘Right, I’ve got the cheese, ham, bread and butter. What else do we need?’ Vivian asked her sister.
Feeling a bit lost for words, Queenie pointed down the aisle. ‘What are they doing back here?’
Vivian was just as shocked as her sister to see Brenda and her new boyfriend strolling towards them with a basket full of groceries. ‘Well, I hope they don’t think they are staying with us again,’ Vivian hissed.
Quickly regaining her composure, Queenie smiled. ‘Hello, love. What you doing here? Where’s Tara and Tommy?’
Brenda pursed her lips. ‘Got nothing to do with you where the kids are. Last time you saw them you chucked them out of your bungalow, along with me and Scotty. Hardly grandmother of the year, are you? Oh, wait a minute – you are when it comes to Vinny and Michael’s kids. It’s just mine you can’t be arsed playing the doting nanny with.’
‘What you on about? Not been drinking again, have you, Bren? I only asked you to leave because Jo and Molly were on their way down here. It is Vinny’s bungalow, not mine, and there wasn’t enough room for us all. I love Tara and Tommy just as much as I love all my grandchildren, so there’s no call for you to go on the turn.’
‘I’m just stating facts, Mum. Anyway, Scotty has paid for our own chalet for the week, so you can stick Vinny’s bungalow up your arse.’
Queenie was immediately alarmed that Scott had paid for a chalet. There was something fishy about him that she had sensed from the very start. Was he undercover Old Bill, only hooking up with Bren because he knew who her brothers were? With his blond hair, tall frame, twinkling eyes and good looks he could do a damn sight better than her sullen, drunken, drama queen of a daughter. And Scott had no kids himself, so he said. So why on earth would he want to saddle himself with Brenda’s two?
‘Are you OK, Mrs B? Brenda didn’t mean what she said, did you, Bren? You only get one mum, darling.’
Queenie’s lips curled into a snarl. ‘It’s got fuck all to do with you, and if you call me Mrs B again I shall kick you right in the goolies. I’ve got your card marked, Sonny Jim. My daughter might be as thick as two short planks, but I bloody well ain’t. Come on, Viv. We’re leaving.’
Screaming abuse at her mother, Brenda went to chase after her, but Scott held her back. ‘Leave it, babe. We’re on holiday, so let’s just enjoy ourselves.’
‘She is so bloody rude, my mother. I hate her! No wonder Dean walked out on me. What was she on about? What did she mean, she’s got your card marked?’
Scott Mason had always been an opportunist. After meeting Brenda in a boozer he’d initially planned on having a one-night stand and then dumping her. However, as soon as he found out who her brothers were he had decided it would be worth his while to form a relationship with Brenda. What better way to see off all the people who were chasing him for the money he’d swindled them out of with his timeshare scam? They’d soon back down once they found out he was part of the Butler family. With a bit of luck he could smarm his way in with Vinny and Michael and land himself a job at their club. Brenda had told him they’d employed her ex, so why shouldn’t they do the same for him? Scott still had his fingers in a few pies, but none of them were paying too well at the moment and he was sick of looking over his shoulder for enemies and creditors. If he worked at the club with Vinny and Michael, then all his worries would be over. A regular income and serious back-up was exactly what he needed right now.
‘I have no idea what your mum was on about, Bren. Perhaps she was just in a bad mood, eh?’
‘But she had no right to talk to you like shit. I tell you, Scott, I’m fuming, I really am.’
‘Don’t worry about it – I’m not. Perhaps your mum is worried because of who your brothers are? She might think I’m undercover Old Bill or something? I think we should arrange a meet with your brothers, Bren, to put everyone’s minds at rest. What do you reckon?’
‘Can’t do any harm, I suppose.’
Christopher Walker was sitting at his desk filling in some forms when his phone rang. A chill ran down his spine as his colleague explained there was a man on the phone who insisted on being put through to him, yet refused to give his name. ‘He says he’s an old friend of yours, Chris.’
‘DS Walker. How can I help you?’ Christopher asked, desperately trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
‘I think it is me who will be helping you, Chris. Now, when we going to have this little meet?’
Feeling his stomach churn, Christopher knew the sooner he got this meeting out of the way, the better he would feel. Not knowing who the mystery caller was was doing his head in. ‘Do you know Hainault Country Park?’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, as you drive in, there are two car parks. I’ll meet you at the one furthest away from the entrance at eleven a.m. tomorrow. I’ll be in an unmarked car, a brown Ford Cortina. What will you be driving? Just so I know who I’m looking for.’
‘Don’t be concerning yourself about looking for me, Chris. I shall find you, but a word of warning, if you tell anybody else about our little meet and I learn of your betrayal, I won’t be a happy man. Please remember, I’m holding all the cards.’
When the mystery caller cut him off, Christopher put his head in his hands. He hated breaking the rules, but he could hardly risk confiding in a colleague. Lying to protect Vinny Butler had already cost him his childhood and there was no way he would allow it to cost him his career as well. No way, José.
After spending an hour in the amusement arcade, Queenie and Vivian took a slow walk back to the bungalow. Lots of the bungalows, chalets and caravans were privately owned, but the site always had its fair share of holidaymakers too. There was even an area over the back for touring caravans, and Queenie and Viv loved to have a nose around. ‘State of them curtains in that one, Viv. Look, they’re black. Dirty bastards, people are. Wouldn’t take ten minutes to take them down and wash them, would it?’
‘People have low standards in this day and age, Queen. Got no pride like us old school. ’Ere, is that your Vinny’s motor?’
Vinny had always been a fan of Jaguars and the previous year he’d bought himself a brand-new XJ6 in black. ‘Yep, that’s his number plate. Really glad he’s popped down. Still fuming about that Johnny Preston getting parole, I am. He needs to have a serious chat with Joanna. Over my dead body will Molly ever be in his company, let me tell you. All but killed my Roy, that bastard did. Took away his spirit, pride and personality. I’ll never rest until Preston gets his comeuppance, Viv. What goes around should come around.’
Albie Butler sipped his brandy and had a good old look around. It had been years since he had paid a visit to his son’s club and with the fluorescent spotlights in the ceiling, expensive-looking carpet and furniture, and gold wallpaper with a red velvet pattern, it looked top notch. ‘What’s them big silver things, boy?’
‘Disco balls, Dad. All the rage now, they are. We don’t have discos as such, but they still set the gaff off when people are dancing. Do you like the new décor?’
Albie nodded. The only thing that he didn’t like was the blown-up framed photo of Roy and Champ that was hung in the reception. He had welled up when he had seen it and still felt upset now. ‘Looks lovely, boy. What sort of entertainment do you have then?’
‘We’ve got a singer on tonight. Good he is, and lots of our punters get up and give a song. You should sing Al Martino, Dad. Got a great voice you have and I love you singing “Spanish Eyes”.’
Albie immediately shook his head. It felt strange being back in Whitechapel after so long, and too many local people knew about his cancer lie for him to get on stage. He could just imagine being pelted with eggs and rotten tomatoes.
Guessing what his father was worried about, Michael did his best to reassure him. ‘No one will say anything to you, Dad, and if they
do, they’ll have me to fucking answer to. That cancer story is old news now, so hold your head high. If anybody says one bad word to you, I want you to tell me, OK? Because if they disrespect you, they’re dis-respecting me as well, and no fucker mugs me off in my own club.’
Pretending he had cancer years ago had been a stupid thing to do, and Albie had rarely set foot in Whitechapel since. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for a night out, boy. I’d rather just go back to the house.’
Michael squeezed his father’s hand. ‘Look, I’ll make a deal with you. You spend tonight and tomorrow night at the club with me, then next weekend we’ll shoot down to Kings and spend some time with the boys, eh? What do ya say?’
Albie forced a smile. ‘I would like to spend some time with the boys.’
‘Right, now that’s sorted, I’m gonna pour us another drink.’
When his son walked up to the bar, Albie thought of Dorothy. Hi-de-Hi!, Family Fortunes and Play Your Cards Right had been Dorothy’s favourite TV programmes, and even though Albie used to joke with her that she only watched old crap, he would give anything to be sitting at home holding her hand and watching any of those programmes with her now, absolutely anything.
‘Daddy, can you sing me the rabbit song again please?’ Molly asked, as she took another lick of her ice cream.
Joanna chuckled. Queenie and Vivian had taught Molly the words to the old war song ‘Run Rabbit Run’ yesterday and Molly would not stop singing it. ‘Stop driving Daddy mad, Molly. He’s only just arrived.’
Vinny grinned, sung the words to ‘Run Rabbit Run’ once again, then as soon as Molly had finished her ice cream, lifted her up above his head.
‘Mind she’s not sick, Vinny,’ Joanna warned. She loved family moments like this, and had been thrilled when Vinny surprised her by turning up unannounced earlier.
‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run,’ Vinny sang.
Molly loved her father. He always brought her lovely presents and made her giggle. ‘Can you buy me a rabbit, Daddy?’
‘Rabbits are naff pets. All they do is sit in a hutch all day and eat lettuce. Dogs are much better. One day when you’re older, I’ll buy you a little puppy.’
‘Don’t be putting ideas into her head, Vinny,’ Joanna warned. She knew what Molly was like. Very intelligent for her age and once she got a bee in her bonnet she would keep on about it.
‘Can I call the puppy Fred, Dad?’
Vinny grinned at Joanna. ‘She’s old before her time this one. Loves a war song and where did she get the name Fred from?’
Joanna laughed. ‘I have no idea, Vin. She doesn’t even know anybody called Fred. It might be because she overheard Queenie and Viv mentioning Freddie Starr. He’s in the upstairs club tonight.’
‘I want to go swimming now,’ Molly announced.
‘I’ll take her, Jo. You stay here with the stuff.’
Joanna smiled as Vinny gently lifted Molly into the children’s pool. She looked so cute with her pink swimsuit and armbands. Her blonde curly hair was even lighter than usual due to the sun and she really did look like a little princess.
‘You all right, Jo?’ young Billy asked, sitting down on Vinny’s sunbed.
Joanna immediately felt panicky. ‘You better not sit there, Bill. That’s my fella’s sunbed and he gets a bit funny.’
Billy was only eighteen and was on his first ever lad’s holiday. He and his pals were staying in a caravan and having a whale of a time. ‘I’ll move as soon as your bloke comes back – and remind me to give you my phone number before I go home in case you ever want to leave him,’ Billy joked.
‘Where are your friends?’ Joanna asked, nervously glancing around to see if Vinny had clocked her and Billy talking.
‘Playing pool in the club, the boring gits. Where’s your mate, Nancy? My pal Ian, the tall blond-haired one, proper fancies her. I don’t, I fancy you,’ Billy chuckled.
Realizing that Billy sounded tipsy and had more than likely been on the lager all day, Jo stood up to get away from him, but as she saw Vinny marching towards her with a tearful Molly in his arms and a face like thunder, she knew she should have moved sooner. ‘I was just coming over to the swimming pool, Vin.’
‘Who is that cunt? And what’s he doing on my sunbed?’ Vinny asked, none too quietly.
Aware that people on nearby sunbeds were now looking their way, Jo did her best to try to defuse the situation. ‘Billy’s on holiday with his friends, Vinny. He has a girlfriend back home and was telling me and Nancy only yesterday how much he missed her, wasn’t you, Bill?’ Jo said, praying that Billy wasn’t too drunk to sense the danger he was in.
Unfortunately for Jo, Billy was too drunk. He grinned at Vinny. ‘Yeah, I have a bird back home in South London. She ain’t as hot as your missus though, so if you ever wanna do a swap, let me know.’
To say Vinny was furious was putting it mildly. He wanted to smash the living daylights out of the cocky little bastard there and then, but knew he could do no such thing in front of his daughter and tons of sunbathers in broad daylight. He would find out where the little shit was staying though, and when he did, he’d give him the hiding of a lifetime. ‘Pick your stuff up now. We’re going,’ he spat at Jo.
When Vinny stomped off with their sobbing daughter in his arms, Joanna quickly shoved her towel, book and suntan lotion into her bag and chased after him. ‘Billy’s just a kid, Vinny. He was only joking, he didn’t mean no harm.’
Vinny looked at his partner with pure hatred on his face. ‘So this is what you and that slut Nancy get up to when me and Michael aren’t about, is it? Do you lounge around chatting up young fucking geezers all day while we’re working our bollocks off to pay for the privilege?’
‘Don’t be daft, Vinny. You’re over-reacting. Nancy and myself would never act in such a way, and deep down you know it.’
‘It’s that fucking blonde hair of yours that attracts these cunts, I’m telling ya. How many rows have we had in the past over geezers chatting you up, eh? And how many times have I asked you to become a brunette? Why can’t you just play ball with me and do something I ask, eh? I treat you well enough, don’t I?’
‘Stop it, Mummy. Stop it, Daddy,’ Molly begged.
Desperate to pacify Vinny and prevent him upsetting their daughter any more, Joanna decided to agree with him. Vinny had often told her that her hair was a similar style and colour to his first love Yvonne Summers, and Joanna had privately wondered if that was the reason for their lack of intimacy. ‘I think you are right, Vin. It is my blonde hair that attracts these chancers. I actually fancy a change now, so how about I book an appointment with that good Italian hairdresser as soon as I get back to London?’
Vinny Butler was a man who liked to get his own way and Joanna’s willingness to comply with his rules immediately took the sting out of his temper. ‘OK, babe. I’d like that.’
Little Vinny and Ben Bloggs got off the train at Dagenham East, then followed the directions that Danno and Tim had given them. They found Ibscott Close easily, and hearing Bad Manners’ ‘Lip Up Fatty’ blaring out, they followed the music.
An hour later, Little Vinny was pissed, stoned and jumping up and down to the Specials’ ‘A Message to You, Rudy’ when his pork-pie hat flew off.
‘You need a haircut, Vin,’ Danno said, rubbing his hand over Little Vinny’s overgrown skinhead.
‘I’ve been so busy working, I’ve not had time to get to the barbers,’ Little Vinny lied. He could hardly say that his arsehole of a father had forbidden him to get it cut again. That would make him look like a right wally.
‘I’ll do it for you. I cut me own and I’ve got clippers upstairs.’
Little Vinny glanced around. Even the girls at the party had shorter hair than him, apart from their long fringes. ‘OK, then. Cut it for me now.’
Desperate to get a good view of Freddie Starr, Queenie and Vivian decided to skip bingo, get glammed up to the nines, and go straight to the upstairs club to grab a good t
able. ‘I love that green dress on you, Viv. Is that the one you bought down the Roman?’
‘Yeah. Fits nice, don’t it? Couldn’t wear me gold with it though as it would have clashed with the silver neck. Bought this necklace and bracelet when I popped down there to get our pie and mash last week. I’ll only wear it with this though, I feel lost without me gold.’
Queenie nodded in agreement. Over the years, both she and Vivian had accumulated quite a collection of gold jewellery. They had everything from sovereign earrings and necklaces to ingots and gate bracelets. Every birthday and Christmas the boys would buy them more, and Queenie knew they were the envy of all their neighbours.
‘Ooh, my Vinny’s just walked in,’ Queenie said, standing up to wave at her son. ‘Viv, don’t say nothing yet about Scotty. If we mention he might be Old Bill, Vinny will kill him and I don’t want a creation down here. I’ll have a word with Vinny on the quiet.’
Vinny bought his mum and aunt a sherry each, and himself a large Scotch. ‘Don’t mind me joining yous tonight, do you? Nancy’s mother is on holiday here apparently, and I didn’t fancy sitting downstairs with her. Jo and Nancy seemed to be joined at the hip lately, don’t they?’
‘Aw, it’s nice they get along, Vin. Can’t believe Nancy’s mother is here though. Not seen that old cow since she had that café near us. Is she staying in Michael’s bungalow?’ Vivian asked.
‘No. She’s got her own chalet.’
‘Bet she was too frightened to stop opposite us. Last time I saw her was when I was battering that sour-faced husband of hers over the head with my umbrella. We must have a drink downstairs after we’ve seen Freddie, Queen. I want to see the look on Mary from the dairy’s face when she spots us. Bet she won’t look us in the eye,’ Vivian said, chuckling at her own wit. ‘Mary from the Dairy’ was an old Max Miller song.
‘We will be nosy, but we can’t be too nasty, Viv. It is Nancy’s mother,’ Queenie said.
‘Changed, this family has, over the years. Time was, we always stood our ground – and look at us now,’ Vivian replied bitterly.
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