Bella was in turmoil. She’d thought she was over Michael, but he was having a worse effect on her than he’d had the first time around, and she desperately needed some space to figure out how she felt about all this. ‘I must go home now. It’s been lovely seeing you again though, Michael. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.’
‘Me too, sweetheart. What you doing tomorrow?’
‘I’m taking Antonio to a pantomime. We’re off to see Aladdin.’
‘Weren’t Aladdin about some rough geezer who met a princess?’
‘Yes, and he had a magic lamp.’
‘Sod the lamp – I only want the princess.’
Bella stood up. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Michael, as always.’
Michael grabbed hold of Bella’s arm. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve given me your phone number. When can I see you again?’
‘You seem to have forgotten you’re a married man. I can’t get involved, Michael. It’s not fair on Antonio. Neither is it fair on Nancy and your sons.’
Michael stood up, held Bella’s hands and stared intensely into her eyes. ‘Listen, Bella, I love you, I always have. I let you walk away from me once and not a day’s gone by I haven’t regretted it. No way will I ever make that mistake again.’
Ahmed Zane paid the cab driver, then helped Little Vinny out of the vehicle. The boy could barely put one foot in front of the other, and Ahmed was determined to find out what was troubling him. It was something big, Ahmed could feel it in his bones.
‘I was enjoying myself at that club. Why did we have to come home?’ Little Vinny slurred. They’d gone up west, but were now back at Ahmed’s flat.
‘Because you kept knocking into people, then wanting to fight them. Rack us some gear up, Vin. I’ll pour the Scotch.’
Cocaine made him want to talk until the cows came home, and it wasn’t long until Little Vinny started rambling on about Sammi-Lou.
‘I remember you saying once that Sammi was too full-on. I think it was because she turned up at the club every night,’ Ahmed reminded the lad.
‘She was full-on, but that’s only because she cared. She really did love me. Now she fucking hates me. Why did she have to get up the duff, eh? It’s ruined everything.’
‘You’re just scared, Vin. You wait until you hold your daughter or son in your arms for the first time. All your worries will be replaced by feelings of unconditional love. I know, because I’ve been there.’
Little Vinny downed his Scotch in one greedy gulp. ‘I’ll be all right if it’s a boy, but I won’t if it’s a girl. Sammi’s sister looks like Molly, and so did Sammi when she was young. That’ll be a proper head-fuck and I can’t deal with it.’
‘I know losing your sister was very upsetting, Vin, but life goes on.’
Chewing at his fingernails, Little Vinny gave no reply. He had kept the truth surrounding Molly’s death a secret for so long, the guilt was eating away inside of him. Perhaps Ahmed was right? Maybe a problem shared was a problem halved?
‘What is it, boy? You can tell me anything, you know that.’
Little Vinny shook his head. ‘This is something proper bad, Ahmed. If my dad found out he’d kill me. I would tell you, but I can’t.’
Knowing that cocaine loosened his lips, Ahmed racked up another two fat lines.
‘Your dad is no saint, Vin. He’s done some real bad stuff in the past. One thing in particular plays on my mind. It’s something that involves you.’
Little Vinny crouched next to the coffee table with a straw in his hand.
‘What? Tell me, Ahmed.’
‘I can’t. Because if your dad ever found out, he’d kill me.’
‘You have my word that I’ll never grass you up. I swear on my unborn kid’s life and Sammi’s. Please tell me. I promise if you do, I’ll tell you my secret.’
Ahmed held out his right hand. ‘You have a deal. But if you ever betray my trust, there will be major repercussions. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?’
Little Vinny nodded.
‘How well do you remember your mum?’
‘I don’t remember her well. But I know she was very pretty. I had a photo of her for years, but I don’t know where it is now. Why are you asking about my mum?’
‘Because it was your dad who killed her.’
‘No fucking way! That can’t be right. I was told she died from a drug overdose.’
‘Yes, she did. Your dad wanted her death to look like an overdose.’
Downing his drink in one, Little Vinny slammed the glass against the table. ‘But why would he kill her?’
‘Because she turned up in your life. Your dad didn’t wanna share you.’
‘So that’s a good enough excuse to kill my poor mum, is it? I fucking hate him, Ahmed. He’s a cunt and I wish he’d die.’
‘Tell me what has been playing on your mind now. It can’t be any worse than what I’ve just told you.’
Little Vinny took deep breaths. He could feel his heart racing and wasn’t sure if it was due to the strength of the cocaine or the news he’d just heard. ‘Promise you’ll never repeat it, not to anyone. Swear on your life.’
Not a believer in old wives’ tales, Ahmed swore on his life.
‘It was me, Ahmed. I killed Molly.’
‘Stop talking rubbish! It was Jamie Preston who killed your sister. Just because you were looking after her, doesn’t mean you were to blame.’
Little Vinny put his messed-up head in his hands. ‘You don’t understand. It wasn’t Jamie. It was me. I strangled Molly. Ben Bloggs helped me abduct her, then I throttled her with my bare hands. Do you see why I can’t have a daughter now? Do you fucking understand?’ Little Vinny yelled.
Ahmed Zane could only sit there in shock, his mouth open wide. He’d known that Little Vinny was harbouring a secret, but never in a million years would he have expected this.
‘You won’t tell my dad, will you? Promise me, Ahmed. Promise me.’
Looking into the drunken, coked-up lad’s eyes, Ahmed saw nothing but evil. He and Vinny had always been sadistic fuckers, but only to those who had wronged them. Molly had been a lovely kid – a helpless three-year-old who’d never hurt anyone. How Little Vinny could have been so callous as to take his own sister’s life beggared belief.
‘Say something, Ahmed. Fucking say something,’ Little Vinny pleaded.
Trying desperately to compose himself, Ahmed put an arm around the evil one’s shoulders. ‘It’s OK, Vin. We all make mistakes. I won’t breathe a word, I swear to God. Neither must you about your mum.’
‘Thank you. I know I can trust you, Ahmed. I would never have killed Molly if I’d been the man I am now, you know. I was a kid back then, and I was really jealous of her.’
‘I understand. I shall nip to the toilet, then pour us another drink,’ Ahmed lied.
Instead of nipping to the toilet, Ahmed dashed into his bedroom and rummaged through the drawer for his miniature tape recorder. If ever anything needed to be preserved on tape, it was Little Vinny’s confession. He would play it to his father before finally killing him off.
Oh yes, revenge truly was a dish best served cold.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After spending most of Saturday hanging around Whitechapel without catching so much as a glimpse of Brad or Kurt Baker, Daniel insisted that they would just have to come back again the following day.
‘We can’t sit ’ere, Dan. It’s too near Nan’s. Her neighbours are bound to recognize us,’ Lee complained.
‘Just keep your hood up and stare at the kerb if anyone walks past. If we don’t make eye contact, we won’t get recognized, unless Nan or Auntie Viv clock us. If that happens, we’ll pretend we’ve come to visit ’em.’
‘Two boys have just come out of a house near Nan’s. Is that them, Dan?’ Adam asked.
Daniel Butler stood up. The boys had their backs to him, were walking in the opposite direction, but he was sure it was Brad and Kurt. ‘Come on. Let’s follow �
��em.’
Vinny Butler froze as he laid the flowers on his cousin’s grave. ‘This ain’t the headstone I bought. My name ain’t on it.’
Queenie crouched down next to her son and squeezed his hand. ‘Vivian didn’t think it was appropriate for your name to be on there after everything that happened, so Michael paid for a new headstone. I thought he would’ve told you, Vin.’
‘Nah. Far too full of his own self-importance these days to bother telling me about a change of headstone. Really upset me that has, but not as much as this will,’ Vinny said, walking over to his daughter’s tiny grave.
The headstone was made of expensive polished marble, and set in the centre was one of the last photographs taken of Molly. It had been Vinny’s idea to have a photo of his daughter ground into the marble, with cherubs either side.
Tears rolled down Vinny’s cheeks. ‘That’s a beautiful photo of her, Mum. I’m so glad you chose that particular one.’
‘That smile of Molly’s must be lighting up heaven as we speak. And I bet she’s being spoilt rotten by your nan, your brother and Lenny. They’ll take good care of her in our absence.’
Vinny crouched down. ‘You Are My Sunshine’ had been Molly’s favourite song, so a verse plus the chorus was inscribed on the headstone. ‘Daddy loves and misses you so much, sweetheart. Life just isn’t the same without you. Merry Christmas, wherever you are.’
Seeing how distraught her big, strapping son was brought tears to Queenie’s eyes. She rubbed Vinny’s back. ‘Let it all out, boy. Better out than in.’
‘I can’t believe I’m standing next to my daughter’s dead body. No parent should ever out-live their kids. That cunt Preston will pay for what he’s done, I promise you that, Mum.’
‘And he deserves nothing less,’ Queenie added.
Vinny planted his lips against Molly’s photo. ‘You got any of them wet wipes, Mum? Stinks of piss, does Molly’s headstone.’
Queenie wiped the headstone and arranged the flowers neatly in the vase. She then stood the teddy bear and card against the headstone. ‘You OK, love? It does get easier, coming here, you know. I was the same as you at first.’
‘It’ll never get easier for me, Mum. Brings everything back, being ’ere. Let’s go home.’
Jamie Preston nodded to a couple of fellow inmates as he sauntered down the corridor. Life in Wandsworth was a different kettle of fish to what he’d experienced in Feltham. In Wandsworth, you spent far more time locked up in your cell, which was why Jamie was so chuffed that he’d got himself a job in the laundry. It helped to relieve the boredom and gave him far less time to dwell on the fact he was paying for a crime he had not committed.
Unlike some of the lags, Jamie had few visitors. A couple of the lads he’d served time with in Feltham had come to see him since being freed, but other than that his only regular visitor was his nan. His uncle Johnny hadn’t been in touch since the day they’d had their heart-to-heart. Leaving an innocent man to rot on the inside was not something Jamie could ever have on his conscience, but he felt he had only himself to blame by acting like a complete and utter idiot when Molly had first gone missing. To ring up the Old Bill and lead them on a wild-goose chase was a despicable thing to do when a child was involved, and Jamie was truly ashamed of his actions.
Entering the laundry, Jamie immediately set to work. ‘You all right, Drakey? You don’t seem your usual self.’
Andrew Drake glanced at the screw who was meant to be keeping a watchful eye on them but instead seemed to be completely engrossed in his newspaper. ‘You need to watch your back. I overheard something earlier,’ Andrew whispered in Jamie’s ear.
‘What?’
‘Well, I ain’t hundred per cent sure it was about you, but I don’t know any other Preston in ’ere. I heard someone say you were gonna get done over.’
Jamie smirked. Andrew Drake wasn’t the brightest spark around by far, which was one of the reasons he’d taken him under his wing. The lad had been bullied relentlessly by three of the other inmates until Jamie arrived on the scene and intervened.
‘I won’t be a minute, lads. Got a dodgy tummy,’ said Brian the screw, getting up out of his seat and dashing out the door.
‘Right, you can talk now. Who did you hear say what?’ Jamie asked.
Before Andrew had a chance to reply, the door was flung open. ‘Get out the fucking way,’ Gerry Williams ordered Andrew.
Andrew immediately did as he was told. Gerry Williams was notorious as one of the prison’s hard men. Nobody defied him.
‘A present from Vinny Butler,’ Gerry hissed, as he slung the contents of his bucket at Jamie. ‘Anyone grasses, they’re dead,’ Gerry warned, before legging it.
Preston’s screams were horrific. Scalding water mixed with sugar was truly every prisoner’s worst nightmare.
Telling the barmaid to keep the change, Johnny Preston carried the drinks over to the table. ‘What you sat here for? Real men stand at the bar.’
Far too nervous to see the funny side of Johnny’s joke, Darren Grant tried to pluck up some courage. He genuinely liked Joanna’s parents, but was wary of Johnny.
‘Come on then, spit it out. You’ve brought me here for a reason, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah. How did you know?’ Darren asked.
‘Because you have the look of a man who’s facing his final hours on death row. What’s up? You ain’t got my Jo in the family way, have ya?’
‘No. The thing is, Johnny, I know me and Joanna haven’t been together that long, but I really do love her. We get on so well, and you must know what it’s like when everything just clicks?’
‘I sure do. I worship the ground my Deborah walks on.’
‘I feel the same, which is why I wanted to drag you out the house for half an hour. If you give me your blessing, Johnny, I want to ask Jo to marry me on Christmas Day. We won’t rush into anything, I promise – that’s if Jo says yes, of course.’
‘You can’t propose without a ring, or have you already took the liberty of buying one?’
‘No. I would never do that without asking your permission first. I did take the liberty of finding out Joanna’s ring size though. My plan was, if you gave me the thumbs up, I would go to Covent Garden to buy a ring tomorrow.’
‘You’re an organized man, Darren, I’ll give you that much. So, what happened between you and the mother of your son? Get bored with her, did you?’
Darren shook his head. ‘My ex got involved with a fella at work. The relationship ended because of that. She was a city girl, was Lorraine. Not really the family-orientated type. We wanted different things in life, unlike me and Joanna. We want the same things.’
Johnny Preston was deep in thought as he sipped his pint. He wasn’t sure his daughter was ready for marriage just yet, but Darren was an honest, hard-working bloke and an enormous improvement on Vinny Butler. Darren doted on Ava too, which was also important in Johnny’s eyes. And Deborah thought the sun shined out of his arse. His wife was the best judge of character Johnny had ever met.
Darren could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he waited for an answer. ‘Shall I get us another drink?’ he asked politely.
Johnny nodded, then waited until Darren returned from the bar before delivering his answer. ‘You have my permission, but I need you to promise me two things. You wait a year at least before you book the actual wedding, and if you have any doubts in the meantime you speak to me before telling Jo.’
‘I promise. But there are no doubts, Johnny. If there was, I wouldn’t be proposing in the first place. Joanna’s the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. I adore her.’
‘I hope for your sake, you’re right. Because I swear, if you ever hurt my daughter, or Ava, I will break every bone in your body. Now, do we understand one another?’ Johnny held out his right hand.
Darren shook the outstretched hand. ‘Yes.’
Nosy Hilda hadn’t come by her nickname for no reason. When she wasn’t outdoors pr
ying into people’s lives, she was indoors peering at them through the net curtains.
Earlier, Hilda had spotted three lads she believed to be Queenie’s grandsons. They had their hoods up even though it wasn’t raining and seemed to be following Brad and Kurt Baker in a rather suspicious manner. Still annoyed with Queenie for lying about Brenda’s visit, Hilda decided to make it her business to find out what they were up to.
She’d followed them for some distance before one of the boys paused and looked around him in a furtive manner. Quickly ducking out of sight behind a parked van, Hilda couldn’t resist a triumphant little chuckle. ‘You’re definitely up to no good and I will catch you out! That’ll teach that deceitful nan of yours to lie to me. Michael’s cleaner, my arse.’
Burak Zane dragged his cousin straight into the office. Ahmed had rung him yesterday, said he had some earth-shattering news, then refused to reveal what it was – as per usual.
‘Ask the chef to rustle me up some food, Burak. What’s the dish of the day?’
‘Sod the dish of the day. I want to know what’s happened. I’ve been racking my brains and it has to be something Little Vinny said. Am I right?’
Ahmed grinned as he handed Burak the cassette. The original recording was now locked away in his secret safe at home and only he knew the combination to that.
Burak pressed the play button. The quality wasn’t great, but he recognized Little Vinny’s voice immediately.
‘Turn it up. You’ll hear something very interesting in a minute,’ Ahmed chuckled.
Burak did as Ahmed asked, then gasped as he clearly heard his cousin ask Little Vinny why he’d killed his own sister. ‘What the hell!’ he exclaimed.
‘Shush. Or you’ll miss the best bit.’
When Burak heard Little Vinny say he’d murdered Molly through jealously, because his dad had loved her more, he stood open-mouthed. He was shocked to the core, could barely believe what he was hearing.
‘Pause it and pour a drink. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Ahmed laughed.
‘I cannot fucking believe it. I know we’ve done some bad things in our time, but nothing tops this. Didn’t he write some heartfelt speech and read it out at Molly’s funeral?’
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