‘Bella’s fine, Mum. She loves spending time with you and Auntie Viv, you know that,’ Michael insisted.
Looking at her eldest son, Queenie probed some more. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in the same room as you and Bella, boy, apart from at your fortieth. Oh, and once when you popped in and she was ’ere. She’s your brother’s other half. Don’t you like her or something?’
Wanting the floor to swallow him up, Vinny managed to keep his cool. ‘I don’t really know Bella, do I? And I don’t wanna be listening to a houseful of women rambling on. You know what I’m like, Mum. A man’s man.’
‘But you used to mix with Nancy,’ Queenie snapped.
‘I was with Jo back then and they were pals, so the four of us could do stuff together. It’s different when you’re single, ain’t it?’
‘I get where Vin’s coming from, Mum. I’d feel the same if I were single,’ Michael piped up. He knew full well that Vinny was jealous of what he had with Bella, and would probably do his best to throw a spanner in the works given the opportunity.
‘Oh, well. At least I’ve got yous two all to meself for once. Now who fancies one of my legendary fry-ups?’
‘Lovely jubbly,’ Vinny grinned.
‘Not arf,’ Michael added.
Deep in thought, Queenie put the sausages in the pan. Something didn’t quite add up, but it was good to hear her boys laughing in the lounge.
Little did Queenie know at that point, she’d never hear them laugh in quite the same way ever again.
Sherry McIntyre glanced around furtively as she walked in the direction of the postbox. She knew she was doing the right thing, but it still made her feel like a criminal. Her husband would be furious if he found out she’d posted it. Gavin had insisted she destroy the bloody thing, but how could she? She was a mother to a little girl herself.
Finding a hidden safe in a house you’d owned for years certainly wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The huge amount of money was a worry, especially as her husband planned to spend it. The property had previously belonged to Anna and Ahmed Zane, and rumour had it the husband had been a Turkish gangster who’d disappeared.
It was the taped confession that had caused Sherry continuous sleepless nights though. She’d listened to it numerous times, had even gone to the library and searched through the archives. The case had been headline news at the time, and Sherry had wept as she’d stared at the photos of that innocent child. Molly Butler had been so beautiful, and Sherry knew she could not live with herself unless she tried to get justice for her.
Hands shaking, Sherry popped the envelope inside the postbox. The police needed to know the truth. They’d locked up the wrong boy and Molly’s evil brother had literally gotten away with murder.
Over the years, Queenie Butler had made her dining area a shrine to her beloved. Dead or alive, there were pictures of all her family, apart from Albie, obviously. But today, Queenie was in an unforgiving and strange mood. Even after their hearty breakfast, Vinny and Michael would not be pinned down to visit her together for a Sunday roast any time soon, which had given her the hump. So she’d now decided to replace the photograph of Daniel, Lee and Adam, with one of Adam, alone.
‘Stupid little bastards,’ Queenie muttered, swapping the snaps in the frame. Not only had Daniel and Lee been responsible for Adam’s death, they’d also stopped the family from getting retribution for Brenda’s.
It had been shortly after Little Vinny’s wedding when Vinny had informed her that he and Michael were waiting outside the tower block Jake Jackson lived in when they’d heard a commotion and seen Daniel and Lee being chased by a gang of burly-looking blokes. The silly little sods had taken it upon themselves to set fire to Jake’s flat with him inside and been caught red-handed. Their intention had been to kill Jake, but the only life they’d managed to snuff out was some poor unsuspecting kittens. Jake, obviously realizing the Butlers were on to him, had never been seen since.
The police still didn’t have a clue who was responsible for Brenda’s murder, and at one point Queenie had been insistent on telling them. Vinny had urged her not to though. He reckoned Jake would get away with what he’d done if the Old Bill had no evidence and assured her that one day he would find out where the scumbag was and deal with him, properly.
‘Cooey, Queen. What you up to?’ Vivian asked.
‘Took Daniel and Lee off the wall. They’re grating on me.’
‘Why? What they done now?’
‘Nothing. Been thinking about Bren, that’s all. If they hadn’t stuck their trunks in she’d be resting in peace.’
‘But they were only kids back then. Thought they was doing the right thing at the time, didn’t they?’
Conveniently forgetting about all the lives Vinny had snuffed out, Queenie hissed, ‘Those poor kittens were burnt alive.’
About to remind her sister she didn’t even bloody like cats, Vivian decided to keep her trap shut. Queenie’s odd morose moods never tended to last very long and it was best to let her snap out of it without fuelling the fire.
Shirley Preston shuffled inside the prison and took her place in the queue. Chelmsford was an awkward journey from Poplar, especially when her arthritis was giving her gyp. But wind, rain, hail or shine, Shirley made the trip to see her grandson. He was all she had.
She had never believed for one minute that her grandson was guilty of Molly Butler’s murder. The so-called evidence against him was all circumstantial, but the Old Bill needed a scapegoat and once they found Jamie they looked no further.
Because of the nature of the crime, Jamie had suffered terrifying attacks when he’d first been sent to Feltham, then Wandsworth. That had all changed though when Glen Harper had taken her grandson under his wing in Chelmsford. Glen was a lot older than Jamie, highly respected, and it was such a weight off Shirley’s mind to know her grandson was safe.
Jamie Preston stood up and greeted his nan with a big hug. She was the only family member who had stood by him, and he was ever so grateful.
‘Your hair looks nice.’
‘Thanks, love. I tried a new hairdresser down the Roman that Madge goes to.’
‘I don’t like you going over that way. It’s too near Butler territory and everyone round that area sees me as guilty.’
‘But you’re not. Don’t you be worrying about me. Walk along with me head held high all day long, I do. Bollocks to the disbelievers and haters.’
Jamie smiled. ‘So what did Johnny Junior have to say?’
Johnny Junior was Jamie’s cousin. His dad, Shirley’s son, had put a gun to his head and blasted his brains out after his daughter’s car was rammed off the road by a truck, killing her and her fiancé. The driver responsible had never been caught, but everyone knew Vinny Butler had wanted Joanna out of the way so that Ava would be his.
‘Didn’t have much to say for himself, to be honest. Asked how I was and if I’d heard anything about Ava.’
‘Did he mention Deborah?’ Jamie asked. Johnny’s mother had been sectioned not long after the deaths of her husband and daughter.
‘Yes. She’s still in the funny farm. Johnny reckons that electric shock treatment did permanent damage to her. She rocks in a chair by all accounts, mumbling crap that doesn’t make sense. Johnny said last time he visited her, she didn’t even know who he was.’
‘Poor cow. I know yous two never saw eye to eye, but it sounds like she’ll spend the rest of her life in that joint.’
‘Couldn’t give a shit – and don’t you be feeling sorry for her. It was that fat cow who put the kibosh on your Uncle Johnny going to the police. He believed you were innocent, I know he did.’
When Jamie squeezed her hand, Shirley asked what he’d done to himself. On both fists, his knuckles were scratched and swollen.
‘I had to give a geezer a dig yesterday, but don’t worry, it’s all sorted now.’
‘What did the man do to upset you?’
‘Yelled out in front of everyone that I wasn
’t a Preston, I was a Butler. I know it’s common knowledge since the court case that Albie’s my dad, but I don’t wanna be reminded of it, thanks. The geezer was on a wind-up, so I had to give him a clump. You can’t let men take liberties in ’ere, Nan.’
Shirley sighed. What a tangled web her family was. Her daughter Judy, who neither herself nor Jamie had anything to do with any more, had once had an affair with Albie Butler. Jamie was the outcome of that liaison, which meant he was Vinny and Michael’s half-brother. That’s why the press had gone to town with the case. In their eyes, Jamie had throttled his own little niece to death.
‘Nan, chill out. I’m twenty-five years old, not ten. Anyway, I have some good news for ya. The parole officer came to see me. Reckons even with my bit of bad behaviour I’ve got a good chance of getting out of this dump soon. Glen was released last week, so he’s gonna sort us out somewhere to live. I might have to stay in a probation hostel first though.’
Shirley Preston’s eyes welled up. She was thrilled for her grandson, but extremely worried that the moment Jamie stepped through those prison gates, the Butlers would kill him. If that were to happen, Shirley knew it would be the end of her. Her heart would be broken beyond repair.
Queenie and Vivian were sitting in Queenie’s back garden catching some autumn sun whilst sorting through a huge collection of old photographs.
‘Awww, look at Mum in that one. Weren’t she beautiful before that bastard started beating the living daylights out of her?’ Vivian remarked.
‘Stunning, bless her. And I do hope that old shitcunt is rotting in hell,’ Queenie spat, referring to their father.
‘Look at my Lenny in this one, Queen. Size of his chubby legs in those shorts.’
Her earlier foul mood now fading, Queenie joked: ‘I remember those shorts well. He had them on the first time he flopped his dingle-dangle out to Old Mother Taylor over the cemetery.’
Vivian chuckled, and sifted through more photos. She still thought about her Lenny every single day, but rarely cried any more. Time was a great healer, and Vivian now preferred to remember the good old days with a smile on her face. Time would never heal the fact that Vinny had killed her beloved son though. Viv could never forgive him, although she did try to keep the peace for the sake of her sister.
‘That’s a lovely photo of us at Vinny’s fortieth. We should get it blown up,’ Queenie suggested.
‘Stunning! We look so glamorous,’ Vivian crowed. Neither she or Queenie had ever lacked self-confidence. Viv was sixty-one now and Queenie would be sixty-five soon, and neither of them were ready to become part of the blue rinse brigade just yet. Both still had their straight, shoulder-length hair dyed blonde, and wouldn’t dream of walking out their front doors without their bright-red lipstick, foundation, eyeliner and mascara. In their eyes, they truly were the bee’s knees.
‘Look, Queen. Poor old Harry Mitchell. Such a nice man an’ all. I must’ve been trying to get some sneaky photos of our handsome Eddie when I took these at Little Vinny’s wedding. I wonder how he’s doing?’ Vivian said, handing her sister the photos.
Queenie had a lump in her throat as she stared at the photos. There had been some awful things happen in the country since Little Vinny’s wedding. The fire at King’s Cross Station, the Hillsborough disaster at the FA Cup Semi-Final, the Marchioness sinking on the Thames. So many people had died in those terrible tragedies and both herself and Vivian had shed many tears whilst watching the dramas unfold on TV.
Lots had happened to affect Queenie and Viv’s lives on a personal level also. Dirty Den had left EastEnders, which had made the soap as dull as dishwater ever since. John Major had taken over as leader of the Tory party when Maggie had resigned, which had angered Queenie and Viv as they both loathed the man. The absolute tossers who were in charge at Tower Hamlets council had dragged the carpet from under the renowned Roman Road market when they’d stopped free parking in surrounding areas, and brought in a horde of traffic wardens to fine every poor bastard who worked or shopped there. There were no proper parking facilities in the bloody area, therefore Queenie and Vivian’s beloved market had all but died on its feet overnight, which had upset the sisters greatly.
No event had shocked or saddened Queenie and Vivian as much as the demise of the Mitchell family though. Christmas 1987 it was, when Eddie had rung Vinny to tell him the awful news that his father had been beaten to death by an unknown intruder. Poor old Harry had been asleep in bed when he’d been so viciously attacked and his killer or killers had never been caught.
Harry’s death had sent shockwaves through the underworld and East End, but nothing could be more astounding than what happened the following year. In the spring of 1988 Eddie Mitchell had blasted his beautiful wife Jessica to smithereens, killing her and their unborn baby instantly. It had been a case of mistaken identity. Eddie had fired away like a maniac thinking he was aiming at his daughter’s gypsy boyfriend, Jed O’Hara. By all accounts, poor Jessica had only gone to Tilbury to try and smooth things over for the sake of their troublesome daughter. But she’d done so with Eddie’s knowledge and when her husband had unexpectedly turned up, Jessica had panicked and hid under the bed.
‘Shall we take a break from the photos? How about I pour us a nice gin and tonic and stick on some Chas and Dave?’ Vivian suggested.
Queenie smiled. ‘Yeah. That’ll cheer us up.’
‘Calum, Regan, no! You’ve got chocolate all over your hands and you’ll get Daddy’s suit dirty. Sammi, where are you? Sort these boys out for Christ’s sake,’ Little Vinny yelled.
Sammi-Lou appeared a minute later with Oliver in tow. ‘Sorry. I was just getting changed and thought you were looking after the two little monkeys. What time’s your meeting?’
‘Two. I’m meeting Finn at one. We’ll probably go for a bite to eat and a few drinks afterwards, so that’ll give you and Charlene some quality time together.’
Sammi-Lou wiped her sons’ hands before hugging her amazing husband. ‘I can’t wait to show off our beautiful new home to Charlene. I still can’t believe it’s ours.’
Little Vinny grinned. He too was extremely proud of their new gaff in Emerson Park, and he’d bought it without having to ask his father or Gary Allen for help. Meeting Finn and getting into the rave scene had earned Little Vinny a hell of a lot of money. He and his new best pal were wizards at organizing such events. ‘I’ll stop at the chinky on the way home, save you cooking, babe.’
‘Can I come with you, Daddy?’ Calum begged.
Regan pushed his brother out the way. ‘No. Me.’
Little Vinny crouched down. Unlike Oliver, his youngest two were a bloody handful. Sammi-Lou often joked it was because they looked like him rather than her. ‘I’ve got to go out on business. You behave for your mum, OK? Else you won’t get a present later.’
‘What about me, Dad?’ Oliver piped up.
Vinny Butler picked up his eldest son. If it was wrong to have a favourite as a parent, then he was guilty of that. His blond-haired, brown-eyed, first-born would always have that special place in his heart. The other two, as much as he loved them, reminded him too much of himself.
Queenie and Viv were munching on cheese, crackers and pickled onions while discussing how useless the police were.
‘Funny how they seem to solve your average Joe Bloggs’s murders, but not Bren’s or Harry’s. Don’t want the likes of us on the streets that’s why,’ Queenie said bitterly.
‘They solved Molly’s,’ Vivian reminded her sister.
‘That’s because she was a child and the press were all over it like a rash. Had no choice but to pull their fingers out then. My Bren never even got a mention in the nationals.’
‘Harry’s did. It was front page of the Sun.’
‘The Old Bill was never going to fall over backwards to catch Jake. They hate my boys, that’s why,’ Queenie snapped.
Vivian had always found the police quite polite and helpful, but said nothing. When Queenie was in one
of her ‘it’s the world against my boys’ moods, it wasn’t worth arguing with her.
‘Nan, can I have some money? Me and Destiny wanna go shopping down the market.’
Queenie glared at the ten-year-old bane of her life. ‘I think you forgot to say the P word.’
‘Piss,’ Ava mumbled under her breath.
Destiny giggled.
‘What did you say?’ Queenie bellowed.
‘Please. I’ll say it again, shall I? Please can I have some money, Nan?’
‘Take Fred over to Mrs Agg’s first then, so he can play with Mabel. I’m not having him trampling over all these photos,’ Queenie insisted. She currently had the right hump with Fred. Whenever Vinny and Ava took him over the park, he came trotting back to them like a little angel. But whenever she let him off his lead, he refused to go back on the bastard thing. Over two hours it had taken her to catch the little sod recently, and she’d vowed never to take him out again.
Mrs Agg lived next door to Nosy Hilda with Mabel, her Jack Russell, and as Ava skipped away happily, Queenie mumbled, ‘She’ll be the death of me, that child.’
Vivian chuckled. ‘She’s no worse than Little Vinny was at that age.’
Queenie sighed. Girls were so much more of a worry than boys, especially in this day and age. And Whitechapel certainly wasn’t safe any more. Gangs hung around the High Road of an evening, and crime was rife. In the good old days you never heard of anybody getting burgled or mugged, but that’s all you heard now. Vinny had begged time and time again for her to let him buy her and Viv a nice gaff out in Essex, but Queenie wouldn’t budge. She was an East Ender through and through, and couldn’t bear the thought of living anywhere else.
When Ava had reached primary school age, Vinny had sent her off to a posh private school. The little cow had hated it and hadn’t lasted a week there. On her final day, she’d climbed over the gates and made her own way home. She now went to the local primary.
Tainted Love: The gritty new thriller from the #1 bestseller Page 17