The Wronged

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘How you getting on with Michael now?’ Joanna asked, making an effort to take her mind off Molly and the funeral.

  ‘He’s been fine since I moved back in. Been very attentive towards me and the boys and we’ve had some nice family days out. We even went to the zoo last week. Sorry. I’m being thoughtless now, aren’t I?’

  Joanna squeezed Nancy’s hand. ‘Don’t be daft! Even though Molly isn’t here any more, I still want to hear about those boys of yours. Actually, I’ve got some news for you, some good news for once, but you must swear that, if I tell you, you won’t breathe a word to a living soul. My mum and dad didn’t want me to tell you – I think that’s why my dad was a bit offish with you earlier. He thinks that if I tell you, you’ll tell Michael.’

  ‘As if! Spit it out, I’m dying to know. Have you met a new man?’

  Joanna shook her head. ‘That day I saw Molly in the mortuary was officially the worst day of my life. I thought today was going to be even worse, until this morning.’ She gave a teary smile, swiping away the tears that were running down her cheeks. ‘Talk about every cloud has a silver lining, Nance.’

  ‘What you going on about, Jo? You’ve lost me.’

  ‘I’m having another baby.’

  Rather than choke, Nancy spat her mouthful of wine back into her glass.

  Feeling ever so weary, Queenie Butler put on her nightdress and slippers and went back downstairs. It had taken her ages to settle Tara and Tommy down, but both were now thankfully asleep.

  ‘They OK, Queen?’ Vivian asked.

  Queenie nodded. ‘Took ’em a while to get off to sleep after I told them about the kids who got stabbed outside Bethnal Green station after asking the wrong geezer to give ’em a penny for the Guy. I think I might’ve frightened ’em.’

  ‘What you on about? I don’t remember any kids getting stabbed outside Bethnal Green station.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ Queenie managed a wicked grin. ‘But I had to come up with something that’d put them off begging, didn’t I?’ She sank into her chair with a sigh. ‘You wait until Brenda rears her drunken head tomorrow. You should have seen the state of her. Had her tongue stuck down that bloke’s throat in front of everybody in the pub, and he was a lot older than her. Talk about embarrass the family. Vinny and Michael won’t be too pleased when they find out. Bound to hear about it, even if I don’t tell ’em.’

  Vivian tutted disapprovingly. ‘Who was he?’

  ‘No bloody idea. Knowing Bren, she probably picked him up at the wake. Acting like a whore, she was. I tell ya, Viv, I’m disgusted with her. She’s her father’s daughter all right. As for them poor little mites upstairs, I hate to think what’s gonna become of them with her as a mother.’

  Vivian pursed her lips. ‘Tara and Tommy will turn out OK. It’s Little Vinny you should be worried about. His poem and crocodile tears did not fool me one little bit. Molly would still be alive if it wasn’t for him. A clone of his father if I ever did see one.’

  After being totally lost for words, Nancy Butler had now composed herself and was trying to think of a polite way to burst her friend’s bubble.

  ‘You don’t seem very happy for me, Nance. I thought you of all people would be thrilled. I can’t believe my mum and dad advised me to have an abortion after everything I’ve been through. As much as I love my parents, I need to get my own place. I feel smothered, living with them.’

  Nancy leaned across the table and held Joanna’s hand. ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, Jo, but your mum and dad do have a point. If you keep the baby, Vinny is bound to find out at some stage. I can fully understand why you are so desperate for another child. I would feel exactly the same. But do you really want or need the aggravation of looking over your shoulder to protect that child for the rest of your life?’

  Joanna snatched her hand away and glared at Nancy. ‘So, what exactly are you trying to say? That I should get rid of it?’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Jo. All I know is, if you keep the baby, Vinny is bound to find out about it.’

  ‘No, he won’t! Apart from you, my parents and my brother, nobody will ever know where I live or that the baby even exists. Unless you tell Michael.’

  ‘Oh, Jo, I would never betray your trust, you know that. I love you like a sister. I’m just worried you’ll never be rid of Vinny, that’s all. I am happy for you, honest I am.’

  ‘I should hope so too! No child will ever replace Molly, Nance, she was a one-off. But at least I have something to look forward to now, a future. As for Vinny, my dad reckons he’ll be put in prison for a very long time after what he did to Bobby Jackson. Dad said the police have been desperate to lock Vinny up for years and they won’t be lenient with him.’

  Nancy forced a smile and tried to pretend she was happy for her friend, but inside she was worried sick. The police could lock Vinny up and throw away the key, but it still wouldn’t stop him claiming Joanna’s baby. But after everything the poor girl had gone through, how could she destroy her hopes of happiness by telling her that?

  Back in Whitechapel, Vinny and Michael Butler were having a heart-to-heart about the future of their business. As a mark of respect, the club had not reopened since Molly’s death over a month ago, but Michael expected that to change after the funeral. However, Vinny had different ideas and had just dropped the bombshell that he wanted to sell up as soon as possible.

  Michael knocked back his Scotch. He had to be diplomatic due to the circumstances, but wasn’t about to be walked all over. After all, he was joint owner of the club. ‘Look, Vin, I can fully understand why you don’t want to open up again, but I need the dosh. You’ve got other income from whatever you get up to with Ahmed, but I bloody well ain’t. I’ve got the boys to think of and Nancy.’

  Vinny sneered. ‘Playing happy families with Nancy again, are you? When you gonna clock on that she’s a psycho, drags you down and you’d be far better off without her?’

  ‘Probably the same time you clock on Ahmed’s a wrong ’un. Look, bruv, I don’t want a war of words with you, but now is not the right time for us to sell the club.’

  ‘Yes, it is. We could start afresh, invest our money in a new venture. Bill Evans opened one of them posh wine bars up town last year. Raking it in, he is. I saw him the other week in a brand spanking new Rolls-Royce. It’s had it round here now, Michael, and we aren’t ever going to get all the custom back we’ve lost. I watched the news last night: unemployment at an all-time high. We need to go where the money is.’

  ‘Have you forgotten that you’re looking at a long stretch inside?’ Michael asked. Vinny had been charged with GBH with intent for the attack on Bobby Jackson and had been told by his brief to expect a lengthy custodial sentence.

  ‘’Course I haven’t forgot. That’s why I want to set the ball rolling now. We can be long up and running before my trial starts, then you can be earning fortunes for us while I’m away. No way I’m ever gonna work here again, Michael. I’m sure the place is fucking cursed. First the fire, then the shooting and now Molly. Whitechapel’s finished for us. There’s nothing here for us any more.’

  As Vinny topped their glasses up, Michael mulled over his brother’s words. Vinny did have a point, but selling up was still a big ask. ‘I’m going to open up again this weekend. You don’t have to be here. Let’s see if we’ve lost any more custom and we’ll go from there.’

  ‘Have you not listened to a word I’ve said, bruv? I told you I wanna get rid. Never forget if it wasn’t for my business brain you would currently be earning a oner a week fixing poxy cars. I set this place up with Roy’s help, not yours. So what I say fucking goes, understand?’

  The sound of the buzzer stopped it turning into a full-scale argument. Vinny stood up, strolled towards the entrance and gave his brother one last warning as he did so: ‘If you refuse to sell, best you have the readies to buy me out, Michael. I’m sure Ahmed would jump at the chance of becoming my new business partner if you’re too den
se to think ahead.’

  Fully expecting to see his mum, his son or Ahmed, Vinny’s smug expression was soon wiped off his face when he saw six Old Bill on the doorstep. ‘What do you mob want?’

  DI Smithers stared Vinny in the eyes. ‘Vinny Butler, you are being arrested on suspicion of murdering Bobby Kenneth Jackson. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but whatever you do say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence …’

  ‘Bruv, ring my brief,’ Vinny yelled. ‘I have just buried my daughter, you unfeeling bunch of cunts,’ he spat, smashing his fist against the wall.

  Hearing the commotion, Michael ran to his brother’s side. ‘What the hell’s going on? Vin ain’t done nothing wrong. We’ve been at Molly’s funeral, and only just got back from the wake.’

  While Vinny struggled and cursed as he was handcuffed then slung in the back of the meat wagon, DS Townsend took Michael to one side. ‘Unfortunately for your brother, Bobby Jackson passed away earlier this evening.’

  Michael sank to his haunches in shock. This change of circumstance was bound to mean that his brother would have to await his trial in prison.

  ‘I am sorry for your family that this happened today of all days. I can only imagine how tough Molly’s funeral must have been for you all,’ Townsend said. Vinny aside, the DS felt no hatred towards the Butler clan. During the investigation into Molly’s death he’d got to know the family a bit better, and Michael in particular struck him as a decent bloke.

  When Townsend walked away, Michael went back inside the club. He rang Vinny’s brief, left a message on his answerphone, then poured himself another large Scotch. No way did he want to see his brother behind bars, but at least now Vinny was in no position to force the sale of the business. He was going to be the one calling the shots for a change.

  Growing up as Vinny and Roy’s younger brother had not been easy for Michael Butler, but with Vinny liable to be banged up for the foreseeable and poor Roy brown bread, this truly was his time to prove all the doubters wrong, Vinny included. And prove them wrong he most certainly would.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Little Vinny sat up and put his head in his hands. He had an awful hangover and an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. His best pal Ben Bloggs should have been at his side today, but he’d not been coping as well as he had since Molly’s death, spending all his time holed up in his bedroom. Every time Little Vinny had tried to persuade Ben to go out somewhere he’d made excuses, saying he didn’t feel well, and he’d rather stay in that squalid pit he called home. But when Little Vinny called at the Bloggs’ place this morning so they could go to the funeral together, Ben’s junkie mother told him he’d gone out last night and hadn’t come back. Now Vinny was worried. He’d thought he could handle Ben, slip him a few quid, keep him in glue and cider, make sure he understood that if he went to the police and told them he’d looked on while Little Vinny strangled his baby sister to death, they would both be in big trouble. After all, Ben was the one who’d taken her from the club, even if he only did it because Little Vinny told him they were going to make her disappear for a few hours to teach his dad a lesson. Surely Ben wouldn’t have the guts to grass him up … would he?

  ‘Vin, we need to talk,’ Michael said, barging into the bedroom.

  ‘Whatsa matter?’ Little Vinny asked, alarmed. He could tell by his uncle’s face that something was terribly wrong, and his first thought was that Ben must have blabbed. If he had, then Little Vinny would have no option but to turn the tables and tell the Old Bill that Ben was the one who’d abducted and killed Molly. If need be, he’d tell them his pal had always shown an unhealthy interest in his little sister.

  Little Vinny cleverly managed to hide the surge of relief he felt when his uncle explained the situation. ‘When will me dad be allowed home?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Your dad only got bail in the first place because Jackson was still alive. Now he’s dead, it might change things.’

  Face etched with fury, Little Vinny leapt up and kicked the door. The whole point of getting rid of Jo and Molly had been so he could have his dad all to himself again, and now he’d been taken away. ‘If my dad gets banged up, who am I gonna live with? Can I live with you? I promise I’ll be good.’

  Having just got things back on track with Nancy, Michael knew there was no way he could let Little Vinny move in with them. His wife had made it perfectly clear that she was no fan of the wayward teenager; she even blamed him for what had happened to Molly. ‘I’m not sure there’s room at mine for you with the boys, Vin. But, let’s not jump the gun, eh? Your dad has a good brief and might even get bail yet for all we know. Now I want you to do me a favour. Get yourself washed and dressed so we can go and tell your nan and Auntie Viv the news. Then, later, I want you to help me get the club ready to reopen. If your dad don’t get bail, I am really gonna need you to be my right-hand man. Do you think you can step up to the mark?’

  ‘Will I get paid more money?’

  ‘Yeah, but only if you work really hard.’

  Little Vinny managed a grin. ‘You got yourself a deal, Uncle Michael.’

  Having had an awful night’s sleep, Vivian got up before the larks and took a stroll down to the newsagent. It wasn’t even daylight yet, but Viv knew the papers would be left outside the Patels’ shop.

  About to pass Fat Beryl’s house, Vivian froze as she heard the words, ‘Please don’t. I really don’t want to. I’m not that type of girl. You’re hurting me. Stop it.’

  ‘You’ve let me buy you drinks all night and you’ve been shoving them big titties of yours in my face. I know you want it,’ a male voice hissed, trying to force his rock-hard todger down the back of her throat. The more they knocked him back, the more it turned him on.

  Whitechapel had changed over the years. Many residents were afraid to walk the streets at certain times, but not Vivian. Nobody messed with her family, which was why she marched fearlessly down the alleyway.

  ‘Get off her, you dirty bastard,’ she bellowed, smashing her handbag over the back of the man’s head.

  The man leapt up. Had it been light, he would have recognized Vivian, but unfortunately for him it was dark. ‘Jealous are ya? Want some an’ all?’ he taunted, waving his hard-on in his hand.

  Trying to whack his cock with her handbag, Vivian screamed, ‘I’ll have you shot, you dirty cunt.’ Realizing the woman was scary and old, the man expertly tucked his penis inside his trousers and bolted.

  ‘Heard of the Butlers, have ya? You disgusting nonce. I’m Vinny and Michael’s aunt. Watch your back. Your days are numbered,’ Vivian shouted, but to no avail. The man was already out of earshot.

  The poor girl was trembling, so Vivian crouched next to her and switched on her emergency handbag torch. She hadn’t got a good look at the man’s face, but could guess what the dirty bastard had been doing. She was actually shaken up herself. That was the first dingle-dangle she’d had waved at her in donkey’s years.

  ‘I can’t go home. My dad will kill me,’ the girl sobbed.

  ‘You’re Billy Higgins’s granddaughter, aren’t you, pet?’ Vivian asked. She’d once courted Billy in her younger years and had often kicked herself for ending the relationship. Billy was still handsome, with a full head of hair. He was also a very wealthy, well-respected villain. A far better man than the arsehole she’d ended up marrying.

  ‘Yes, I’m Janey. You can’t tell my granddad though.’

  ‘Why don’t you come home with me, Janey? I’ll make you a nice sweet cup of tea and we’ll call the police. This man needs to be caught.’

  ‘No! My parents will kill me. I lied to them, you see. I told them I was going out with a friend. My dad says I’m too young to have boyfriends.’

  ‘OK. No police. But please come home with me. You can tell me what happened there, then we’ll work out what to do next. You can’t stay here, lovey. I know your granddad very well. A lovely man. I’d never forgive myself if I left you h
ere all alone.’

  ‘OK.’

  Nosy Hilda could barely contain her excitement as she knocked at Queenie’s front door.

  ‘What the hell do you want this early in the morning? Oh, don’t tell me, I think I can guess. Has Lil died?’ Queenie asked in the most sarcastic tone she could muster.

  ‘No. I saw her niece as she was going to work and it looks like Lil might pull through,’ said Hilda, oblivious to the sarcasm. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I was about your Vinny. Must have been a terrible shock for you that Bobby died. I mean, who’d have thought he’d croak it, after all this time.’

  ‘Vinny! Bobby! What do you mean?’ Queenie asked, the colour draining from her face as the realization started to kick in.

  ‘Bobby Jackson. He died yesterday. They arrested your Vinny for murder last night and carted him off in a police wagon. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No, I bastard well didn’t,’ Queenie hissed, slamming the door in Hilda’s face.

  It was in Hilda’s nature to have the last word. ‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ she trilled through the letterbox. ‘I’ll be off now then.’

  As soon as Janey said her attacker’s name was Pat and described what had actually happened, Vivian knew who the culprit was. One Eyed Harry had told her only last week that he’d been released.

  Tall, dark and handsome, Pat Campbell was the local sex-pest, playing on his looks to entice young girls to go out with him. He had a foul reputation for not taking no for an answer. He’d been getting away with it for years before one of his victims finally went to the police, and even then all he got was a slap on the wrist, a measly eighteen-month stretch.

  ‘Thank you so much for your kindness, Vivian. I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise. And thanks for allowing me to use your phone to ring my friend and my mum.’

  Urging the seventeen-year-old to sit next to her on the sofa, Vivian squeezed Janey’s hands. The girl had been adamant about not involving the police, and Vivian had reluctantly gone along with it, not wanting to see the poor kid forced to relive the whole thing in court and probably end up being branded a slag for having gone out on a date with the bugger in the first place.