Nancy giggled. ‘We have come over here to see if we can find the men of our dreams, Rhon. Candy floss and toffee apples are hardly man magnets. If we are munching on them, we are gonna look like kids.’
‘But you’ve already found the man of your dreams. You’ve got Roger,’ Rhonda joked.
Nancy punched her pal playfully on the arm. Roger Robins was the son of her parents’ friends, Margaret and Derrick. At twenty-one, Roger worked for a branch of Barclays Bank in London. On numerous occasions, he had invited Nancy to go dancing or to the pictures, but much to her parents’ dismay, Nancy had politely declined.
With her size-eight figure, ample breasts, and long blonde hair, Nancy wanted a bit more out of life than boring Roger. The pop star Marc Bolan was Nancy’s perfect vision of a man. Marc was wild, cool and handsome, everything that Roger wasn’t. Nancy liked excitement and she would rather entertain a bad boy any day of the week than date some complete and utter bore.
‘Wow! He’s nice,’ Rhonda exclaimed.
‘Which one?’
‘He’s got shoulder-length dark hair and is standing by the coconut shy with a group of lads.’
Nancy surreptitiously glanced around. ‘All of them have shoulder-length dark hair. What’s he wearing?’
‘A cream flowery-patterned shirt and brown flared trousers.’
Fashion had changed immensely since the sixties when drainpipe trousers and button-collared shirts had been all the rage for young men. The Mod era had also now come to an end and the hippy look had taken over as the new trend. Spotting the guy who Rhonda had referred to, Nancy screwed her face up. ‘Nah. His nose is too big for his face, Rhon. You know I have a thing about little button noses.’
Hearing the current song by Middle of the Road being blasted out of the speakers on a nearby ride, both girls linked arms. Giggling, because they were aware that the group of boys were now watching them, Nancy and Rhonda began wiggling their hips and singing the words to ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’.
Vinny and Queenie Butler smiled proudly at one another as Little Vinny put on his boxing gloves and started to spar with his Uncle Roy. Roy was kneeling on the carpet and when his nephew caught him on the chin, Roy fell backwards to pretend he had been knocked out cold.
‘He’s a real natural, ain’t he, Mum? I knew he would be,’ Vinny gushed.
‘He’s a little bruiser. A proper Butler boy, just like his daddy was at his age,’ Queenie chuckled.
Buying his son off Karen had been one of the best decisions that Vinny had ever made. It had cost him three grand, but had been worth every penny. Being a stripper, Karen wouldn’t exactly have been his first choice of woman to bear his child, but she was a stunning bird, and with his own dark smouldering looks, his son was always destined to be a handsome kid.
Karen hadn’t wanted to part with her baby at first. She’d had delusions of Vinny marrying her and the three of them becoming one big happy family. It took the wad of cash, plus a few threats, to finally make Karen see sense and flee the area. Vinny had never heard from her since and had no wish to. His son had all the family he needed. He had told Little Vinny that his mother was dead, and if Karen ever caused him any trouble, he knew he could quite easily turn his little white lie into the truth.
‘Answer the door then, Nan,’ Little Vinny ordered, pummelling his nan on the arm with his boxing gloves to get her to move off the sofa.
‘Don’t hit your nan. You must never punch girls or women with them gloves, boy,’ Roy said sharply.
‘Chill out, bruv,’ Vinny ordered, glaring at Roy as his mum stood up.
‘I am chilled out and stop getting on my case all the time. Ever since you’ve been knocking about with the poxy Turk, all you seem to do is give it the large,’ Roy said, referring to Vinny’s pal, Ahmed. Truth be known, Roy was a bit miffed about his brother’s close friendship with the man. Once upon a time, it had been just the two of them. Back then it was him who Vinny had been as thick as thieves with, not some bloody foreigner.
Vinny had always vowed when they were younger that they would never let an outsider into their lives. He reckoned that you could only really trust family, yet over the past ten months or so, Ahmed was hanging around with Vinny more and more. This worried Roy greatly, as he’d heard through the rumour mill that Ahmed was a drug kingpin. He’d even once asked Vinny if the word on the street was true, but his brother had just laughed in his face. He had sworn to him that Ahmed was a legal businessman, but Roy still wasn’t sure if he believed Vinny. Ahmed was a wrong ’un, Roy could see it in his cold dark eyes.
Threatening her boys if they argued any more they would have her to deal with, Queenie ran into the hallway to hand over her football bets to the Pools man. She was then relieved for once to see her sons and grandson making a move. It was Little Vinny’s fifth birthday tomorrow, and seeing as it had been her idea to throw him his very first proper party, she intended to make it as special as possible. ‘That’s it, get out of my way so I can crack on,’ Queenie said, kissing both her sons, then cuddling her grandson.
‘Well, I’ll keep little ’un all day and bring him back about seven before I open the club,’ Vinny informed her.
‘Where you taking him?’ Queenie asked.
‘The fair at Barking Park.’
Mary Walker served old Mr Sams his two weekly packs of Old Holborn, then ordered Donald to take over at the till while she stocked the shelves. Mary sometimes still dreamt about her fabulous café with its smart red and white décor and fashionable jukebox, but she had learned to deal with what had happened.
Doing a Christmas Day flit to Ilford had proved to be a good move. Donald and Mary’s café in Whitechapel had sold for more than they had expected, which had enabled them to buy a newsagent’s instead. Their shop was situated on the corner of a road near Ilford town centre, and over the years they had made it into far more than just a newsagent’s. It was more like a general store now which sold virtually everything. From toilet paper to ham, from greetings cards to daily delivered bread and cakes, there wasn’t much Mary and Donald didn’t sell and they were very proud of the service they provided to the public.
‘Hi, Mum. Do you need me to help with that? Have you and Dad been busy today?’ Christopher asked, as he walked into the shop.
Mary smiled. Christopher looked so smart in his Boy Scout uniform, and he was such a sensible lad. He had turned fourteen a couple of months ago, and was a real credit to her and Donald. Christopher was still determined to follow his dream and become a policeman, and Donald was in full favour of his son’s choice of career. Mary wasn’t though. After the terrible experience they’d endured in Whitechapel, Mary was frightened of Christopher dealing with the likes of the Vinny Butlers of this world, day in day out, and was concerned for her son’s safety.
‘Are you in a daze, Mum? I asked you if you wanted any help and you haven’t answered me yet.’
‘Sorry, son. You can help me stack that tinned stuff, if you like,’ Mary said.
Christopher picked up the tray of corned beef. ‘Where’s Nancy?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone to the fair with Rhonda.’
‘What! You shouldn’t have allowed her to go there, Mum,’ Christopher said, dropping the corned beef with a thud, just to show his displeasure. Unlike him, with his rather plain looks, Nancy was absolutely stunning and this worried the life out of her brother.
‘Oh, don’t you start as well, Christopher. I’ve had enough with your dad harping on about what Nancy should and shouldn’t be allowed to do. She’s sixteen, and she can’t be wrapped in cotton wool forever. Your sister is sensible enough to look after herself, so for goodness’ sake stop fretting.’
Christopher stacked the rest of the shelves in silence. His false statement to the police about Dave Phillips’ murder had never been mentioned again since he had admitted his lie. But, even though his family seemed to have forgotten all about it, Christopher never had. What had happened between himself and Vinny Butler
had changed him completely. He was no longer the carefree lad he had once been. He was serious, a worrier, and there was no way he would be able to rest now until his sister arrived home safe and sound from that fair.
Queenie took her fairy cakes out of the oven and showed them to Vivian.
‘Oh, they look perfect, Queen. Now let’s see if my jellies are set so I can put some Angel Delight and hundreds and thousands on top of them.’
Queenie smiled. Her Brenda was sixteen now and Viv’s Lenny fifteen, but thankfully they could remember all the things that little ’uns liked.
‘Can I have one of them cakes?’ Lenny asked, appearing at the kitchen door.
‘No, you bleedin’ well can’t. You had a big lunch and these are for the party tomorrow,’ Vivian said sternly.
‘Oh, one won’t hurt him, Viv. Go on, take that and go and watch the telly,’ Queenie ordered, handing her nephew a plate.
Vivian tutted in pretend annoyance. Even as a young child, her Lenny could wind anybody and everybody around his little finger, and he had become even more of an expert in the art of manipulating people since he’d gone to a special school. Lenny could read and write fairly well now, but even though he was tall and resembled Michael, he was slightly overweight, and his facial expressions clearly gave away that he had been born with disabilities.
Thinking about her own brood, Queenie iced her grandson’s birthday cake in total silence. Vinny and Roy had sold their snooker club just over a year ago now and had bought a bigger club along the Commercial Road. They held jazz nights and all sorts in there. They even had a proper licence for their roulette table. Queenie felt like Her Majesty the Queen whenever she had an evening out there. Her boys were treated like royalty and so was she. To say she was proud of how well her sons had done in life was an understatement. She was absolutely fucking ecstatic about it.
Queenie had never seen Albie again since that day she had found out about his affair. She’d had one or two drunken phonecalls from him a few years back, but Vinny had her number changed and she’d heard nothing since. Bits of gossip popped up through the grapevine from time to time, and the last Queenie had heard was Albie was living in Becontree Heath with some drunken old trout called Pauline. Queenie was quite pleased that Albie had moved in with a woman roughly his own age, as it meant she wouldn’t be able to bear his kids. Queenie did often wonder what had happened to Judy Preston though. Vinny had tried his hardest to track her down over the years to see if she had kept Albie’s baby, but Judy and her family had disappeared off the face of the earth.
‘I’m off out now, Mum,’ Brenda said, snapping Queenie out of her trance.
‘Where you off to dressed like that? Look like a bloody hussy in that outfit you do, don’t she, Viv?’
Vivian poked her head around the kitchen door. ‘It’s a bit revealing, Bren.’
‘You got your boobies and your bum hanging out,’ Lenny added, joining in with the fun.
Brenda tutted, pulled her flowery vest-top up to cover her breasts and wiggled her hotpants down a bit. ‘You are such an old fogey, Mum. And you, Auntie Viv. All the girls are wearing clothes like these. It’s the fashion.’
‘You won’t be saying that if you fall arse over tit in those monstrosities on your cloppers,’ Vivian chuckled, pointing at Brenda’s bright red plastic platform-heeled boots.
‘See you later,’ Brenda scowled, running her fingers through her short brown hair. Unlike all her friends who had long hair, Brenda had recently had hers chopped off. She liked to stand out in a crowd, not be a clone, and the short feathered cut she had opted for suited her elfin-like face perfectly. She was also incredibly slim and the only thing that Brenda wished she could change about herself was her flat chest. Her boobies looked more like two fried eggs than actual formed breasts.
‘You ain’t going nowhere until you tell me where you’re going dressed like that, young lady,’ Queenie shouted, chasing her daughter up the path.
‘I’m going to the fair, OK?’ Brenda replied.
‘You can’t go there dressed like that! Vinny has taken Little Vinny over there and I’m sure Michael said him and Kevin were going to the fair too. Put something more respectable on. You don’t want your brothers to think you are over there hawking your mutton, do you now?’
Brenda turned around in fury. She was sick of being told what she should wear and what she should do. Her brothers had always been allowed to run riot. ‘Balls to what my brothers think, Mum, and balls to you and Auntie Viv too.’
When Brenda slammed the gate and tottered off down the road, Queenie and Vivian looked at one another in unadulterated shock. Neither woman was used to being sworn at by their own flesh and blood.
Roy’s mouth was as dry as a bone as he strolled along Roman Road market holding his girlfriend Colleen’s hand. It had been at this very market where Roy had first met her. He had been shopping for a new overcoat, and had decided to grab a bit of lunch in Kelly’s pie and mash shop. Colleen had walked in just as Roy had started to eat, and his appetite had disappeared in a flash. In her wedge-heeled sandals, tight-fitting denim shorts, and red chiffon top, her beauty left Roy gobsmacked. She wore her blonde hair straight and long and had the most fully-formed luscious lips that he had ever seen. Unable to take his eyes off her, it wasn’t long before Colleen caught him staring and treated him to a dazzling smile. Roy had noticed she had no ring on her finger, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he let her walk out of his life without even finding out her name, or where she was from.
Colleen had told him she was eighteen, a trainee nurse, and had recently moved to Bow from Cork in Ireland. Her gentle Irish lilt made her even more attractive to Roy and he had been elated when he had asked Colleen out and she had agreed. Their first date had taken place in a West End restaurant. They had got on like a house on fire and their relationship quickly became serious. Roy had had quite a few girlfriends in the past, but apart from one whom he had courted for six months, none was particularly important, but today, Roy had brought Colleen back to Roman Road market for a very special reason.
‘Do we have to have pie and mash? I’m not that hungry. I’d rather just have a sandwich, I think,’ Colleen said.
‘I’m starving, Col. Let me have me pie and mash, eh? You haven’t got to have none. I’ll get you a sandwich after I’ve eaten, if you like?’
‘Oh, go on then. You might as well just get me pie and mash too. Don’t put that horrible liquor on mine though.’
When Roy entered the shop, he was disappointed to see the table Colleen was sitting at the day he had first met her was taken.
‘Aren’t you going to order, then?’ Colleen asked, as Roy hovered near the table.
‘These people are nearly finished,’ Roy said, noting that the old couple sitting there had already eaten their meals and were now drinking their mugs of tea.
‘But there’s two empty tables over there,’ Colleen said.
‘They’re going now. We’ll sit here,’ Roy insisted, even though the old couple still hadn’t moved.
‘I’m not standing here like a wally, Roy. Give me the money and I’ll order our food. I take it you want double pie and mash?’
Roy nodded and was relieved when seconds later the old couple stood up to leave. He waited for the waitress to wipe the table, then flopped nervously onto a chair.
‘There we are,’ Colleen said, placing the tray on the table.
Roy took a mouthful of pie and immediately felt sick. He had been lying to her, he felt far too anxious to eat and knew the quicker he got this over with the better.
‘Bejesus. Whatever are you doing, Roy Butler?’ Colleen asked, when her boyfriend dropped to one knee.
‘It’s virtually a year to the day that I first met you at this very table in this pie and mash shop. I love you so much, Colleen O’Connell, and I know you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I have already spoken to your father and asked for his blessing, so will you marry me?’
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Colleen burst into tears as she stared at the diamond ring Roy held in a black box in his shaking hands. ‘Of course I will marry you, you daft bugger.’
When Roy placed the ring on her finger, everybody in the shop, including the staff, gave a loud cheer.
Vinny Butler helped his son onto the ride then, deep in thought, watched him go round and round on the metal horse. Since the Krays had been banged-up in 1969 for the murders of Jack McVitie and George Cornell, Vinny had really made his mark on the East End. The Mitchells were still a force to be reckoned with, but they were based in Canning Town, and were currently too busy feuding with a travelling family called the O’Haras to be bothered about what he and his brothers were doing.
Vinny was overjoyed with the success of his new club. His old gaff had become so popular he’d been turning people away from nine o’clock onwards, and he had known he would quadruple his takings if he could find a much bigger place. He had suggested naming the new venue after his mum, but Roy said they would be made laughing stocks because to name it Queen’s or Queenie’s would make it sound like a club for bum-bandits.
Michael had come on in leaps and bounds over the years and was now a valuable asset to the business. Once Vinny had drummed into his little brother that driving around on a silly scooter with a soppy over-sized parka on was not a cool or adult look, Michael had grown up overnight. Roy was a different matter. Ever since he had fallen hook, line and sinker for the Irish tart he was dating, he expected to take nights off at will to wine and dine her. Vinny had always put work before pleasure and to say he was displeased with Roy’s carefree attitude this past year was putting it mildly. Things hadn’t come to a head just yet, but Vinny knew he was very near to blowing his top with his brother. He’d only tried to keep a lid on it because he knew if they fell out, not only would it affect their business, it would also greatly upset their mother.
‘Well? Did you enjoy that?’ Vinny asked, when his son jumped off the ride and ran towards him.
‘Nah. It was shit, Dad. Can I go on the dodgems?’
Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection Page 12