‘You’ll find out soon enough. Wait here, I won’t be long,’ Little Vinny replied.
Ben didn’t own a watch, but at a guess he would say it was about an hour later when his pal returned with Molly in his arms, and a carrier bag containing two hats and a pair of gloves. ‘Make sure Molly doesn’t pull her hat off, and if anybody passes you, look down, don’t let them see your face, OK?’ were Vinny’s exact orders.
‘What’s going on, Vin? Where am I taking Molly?’
‘To our special place. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. Now, put that hat on and if you have to touch Molly, make sure you wear the gloves.’
‘But why am I taking Molly there? This don’t seem right to me, Vin.’
That was the moment his pal had grabbed him and pushed him up against the garage wall. ‘Do you remember when Black Joe was picking on you? Or that gang of girls that bullied you when you were in the first year? And have you forgotten how I stuck up for you against Stephen Daniels and his wanky gang?’
‘No, ’course I ain’t forgotten, Vin.’
‘And what about all the fags, booze, puff, and glue I’ve bought you? Who pays for that shit every time we go out, Ben?’
‘You do, Vin.’
‘Well, isn’t it about time you did me a favour back then?’
Ben Bloggs had always had a weak nature. Vinny was the only friend he had and the thought of losing him was unbearable. ‘OK. But you ain’t gonna do nothing bad to her, are you?’ Ben asked, nodding towards the child who was now asleep in the pushchair he had thieved.
‘Course not. I just wanna teach my old man a lesson,’ Vinny assured him.
The walk across Victoria Park was nerve-racking to say the least, but the torrential rain meant the park was quite desolate. Two young women dashing past him sharing an umbrella, one old tramp, and a couple of dog walkers was all Ben could recall seeing, and he had kept his head down and run all the way to make it look like he was escaping the weather.
Molly had cried throughout the journey through the park, but by the time he reached his and Vinny’s special place, the child was hysterical. ‘I want my mummy and daddy. Where is my mummy and daddy?’ she’d sobbed.
Ben’s and Vinny’s special place was on some land that ran not far from the River Lea in Hackney. It was a secluded spot amongst trees and bushes, and once you stepped inside it was like a little den. ‘Stop crying, Molly. It’s OK, darling. I’ll look after you until your mum or dad comes to get you,’ Ben had whispered, cradling the child in his arms. He was good with kids, had virtually brought his own siblings up single-handed.
‘Where’s Molly Dolly? I want my doll,’ Molly wept.
Ben had cursed at that moment. The doll had been in the pushchair with Molly and must have been dropped on the journey. ‘We’ll find Molly Dolly when the rain stops. Your brother will be here soon, then he’ll take you home to your mum and dad.’
When his little sister Kylie was upset, or could not sleep, Ben had often sung nursery rhymes while cradling her. This seemed to have a calming effect on Molly as she dozed off in his arms during ‘Little Miss Muffet’ and was still asleep when Little Vinny finally arrived. ‘Thank God, you’re here, Vin. I don’t wanna do anything like this ever again. Molly’s wet, tired and upset ’cause she lost her doll. We need to take her home now.’
Vinny bent down, unzipped the sports bag he had brought with him and put on a pair of yellow Marigold gloves.
‘What you doing? What else is in that bag?’ Ben asked, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
His pal never answered his question. Instead, he grabbed Molly out of his arms, laid the petrified child on the ground, and cold-bloodedly throttled the life out of her.
The look of bewilderment and horror in Molly’s eyes had been the most sickening sight Ben had ever witnessed. Unable to move, he had stood open-mouthed and rooted to the spot.
Vinny had then crouched down; put his head in his hands and started rocking to and fro next to his sister’s lifeless body. ‘I’m so sorry, Molly. I really am.’
With tears streaming down his face, Ben knelt down the other side of Molly. He prayed that a miracle might have occurred and the child would still be breathing. But unfortunately there were no signs of life. ‘What have you done, Vin? Why did you kill your little sister?’
When his pal stared at him with a glazed expression in his eyes, Ben knew Vinny had already been puffing, drinking, sniffing glue, or all three.
‘Because my dad loved me until she was born. Molly stole my dad from me. Now, let’s bury her. I’ve got a shovel and it will be easy to dig a hole because the ground is so wet. I’ve also brought some petrol and matches with me so we can burn all the evidence.’
Feeling sick to the stomach, Ben shook his head. ‘I’m going home, Vin. I can’t deal with this. It’s fucking madness.’
‘No, you are not. I need your help.’
As Ben’s trembling legs tried to make a run from the den, Vinny had grabbed hold of him. ‘Ben, please don’t do this to me. Remember when we cut ourselves with my penknife that time? Then rubbed our cuts together? Well, that made us blood brothers. We are in this together, and unless you help me, we’ll both get nicked.’
‘I never killed Molly. It’s not my fault,’ Ben reminded his pal.
‘No, but you brought her here, and you’ll be in just as much trouble as I will. You’ll get done for child abduction.’
A dog barking in the distance in Hainault forest snapped Ben out of remembering any more of that awful day. He had thought of nothing else since and he knew the only way to rid himself of those terrible memories was to end his own sorry life.
He drank the last of his cider, sparked up another joint, took the rope out of his bag and then calmly started to climb the big tree.
As he did so, Ben thought of the only friend he had ever had. Vinny had been good to him over the years, which was why he had decided to kill himself in Hainault forest rather than their special place. Ben was not the brightest boy in the world, but he knew if he ended his life near to where Molly’s body had been found on the day of her funeral, it might point the finger of suspicion towards his one-time pal and himself.
After the murder, Vinny had refused to discuss his sister. Apart from admitting that he’d started the flood in the cellar on purpose, he hadn’t wanted to talk about what had happened or why he’d strangled Molly. Ben could not believe that his pal was happy to get pissed, stoned and ride up and down the District Line like sod all had happened. The whole experience had haunted him and he was not even responsible for poor Molly’s death.
Ben knotted the rope around a thick branch of the tree. He was not afraid of dying now, in fact he was quite looking forward to it. Surely the afterlife had to be better than the shitty cards he had been dealt in this one? No way did he want to be around his junkie whore of a mother any more; neither did he want to be around his evil child-killer of a friend.
He smoked the last of his joint and flicked the tiny remainder onto the leaves below. Then he bravely looped the rope around his neck. Smiling his first proper smile in weeks, Ben prepared to take the plunge.
Seconds later, he was dead.
Acknowledgments
Firstly, I would like to express my gratitude to the fantastic team at HarperCollins. Some of you I am in contact with on a regular basis, others I only see once or twice a year at parties. But you all have one thing in common: you truly believe in me and my books, and I can’t thank you enough for that, and all the hard graft you do to promote them.
Love and best wishes to Sarah Ritherdon, who has now left HC to become a full-time mum. And a huge warm welcome to my new editor, Kimberley Young, who is an absolute joy to work with (or she was until she gave me a shitload of editing). Only joking, Kim! xx
As always, love and appreciation to my agent, Tim Bates, and to typist Sue Cox for all your hard work. Rosie de Courcy for being there from the start, and Lady H.
Before I make this soun
d like an Academy Award winning speech (just practising in case that day ever comes, lol!), I want to thank everybody who buys, borrows, reads, or recommends my books. Same goes for the shops and supermarkets that stock them. Asda and Morrisons have been especially supportive, which I really appreciate.
Payback brought back many special memories while I was writing it. I worked on Whitechapel Market every Friday for many years. But it was the scenes I set at Kings in Eastbourne that brought a tear to my eye. Reminded me so much of my Mum, Dad, Nan and Granddad who are unfortunately no longer with me. All the star acts you see mentioned in this book actually appeared at Kings, plus hundreds more. It really was the place to be back in the day. Especially the launderette, eh Karen Mitchell? Lol!
One question I often get asked is how much research I put into a book. The answer is not much at all. I tend to stick with subjects that I know quite a bit about. However, Payback was far more complex. Lots of police activity, so I needed to see certain parts of the book through the eyes of the law. Luckily for me (although I didn’t feel very lucky at the time) I once got my collar felt by Ron Scott, who ended up as Chief Inspector of the Murder Squad. Ron, you’ve been an absolute diamond answering my endless questions. I can’t thank you enough and I definitely owe you and your wife that meal. Who would have thought all those years ago when our paths crossed in such a way, I would end up a bestselling author, you would love my books and we would end up as good friends? You just couldn’t make it up, could you? Haha!
If you enjoyed PAYBACK, find out where it all began
The Butlers are the kings of the East End.
Vinny and Roy Butler are the apple of their mum’s eye and although Queenie knows they can play dirty, when it comes to family they look after business and make her proud. Nothing and no one can bring the Butler’s down.
But Vinny seems to have crossed the wrong person and his cards are marked. And with the brothers joined at the hip, Roy may just be in the firing line too …
One bloody night sets Vinny on the path of desperate vengeance, but will the Butlers emerge stronger than ever, or is the East End code of honour as good as dead?
Click here to buy now
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Copyright
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2013
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2013
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013
Cover photographs © Wolfgang Lienbacker / Getty Images(girl); Loop Images Ltd / Alamy (background).
Kimberley Chambers asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007503155
Ebook Edition © January 2014 ISBN: 9780007435067
Version: 2014-02-03
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Payback Page 45