Backstabber, p.6
Backstabber, page 6
‘Soon. I’ll call Calum’s mum later.’
‘Can’t you call her now?’ Harry asked.
‘Sammi’s got a family funeral today, so I won’t be able to get hold of her at present.’
‘I suppose I’d better make tracks meself. I hope your dad don’t wanna stay at the wake for hours on end. I’ll be bored shitless if I’m not drinking,’ Stuart said, kissing Frankie goodbye. He’d never met Vivian Harris, but Eddie thought it respectful they attend and show moral support for Vinny.
‘I think we’ll have a takeaway tonight. Try not to be too late,’ Frankie said.
Little did Frankie know as she waved her doting fiancé goodbye that Stuart would not be returning home, ever.
Little Vinny straightened his eldest son’s tie. ‘Auntie Viv’ll come back and haunt you if you wear that wonky,’ he said, trying to make light on such a horrid day. Auntie Viv had always been a permanent fixture in his nan’s house, had only really used her own place to sleep in.
‘There’s lots of people outside the house, Dad,’ Oliver commented.
‘Auntie Viv lived in Whitechapel all her life, boy. Last of a dying breed. You can guarantee a lot of people who’ve moved away will turn up today to pay their respects. It used to be a close-knit community round ’ere. Well loved and respected, Auntie Viv was,’ Little Vinny explained. His sons’ only memories of Whitechapel were the shithole it now was and he liked them to know their roots. When he was growing up the community spirit in the East End was awesome.
Thinking how grown-up and dapper her sons looked in their smart black suits, Sammi-Lou linked arms with her husband. Obviously she had no inkling of what the day had in store for her. If she had, she’d have run a mile.
‘He’s not getting in the first car. Let him go in the second,’ Queenie informed Michael, glaring at her ex-husband.
Feeling desolate, Albie Butler averted his eyes. He might have been a drinker and a womanizer back in the day, but Queenie had never really wanted him. He knew in his heart he’d married the wrong sister. Due to their age, his and Vivvy’s relationship had been purely platonic, but there’d been a lot of love and laughter. That was something he’d never had with Queenie. She’d been all for their sons, Vinny especially, and Albie knew without a doubt that it was she who’d turned them into notorious underworld figures.
Michael Butler led his father away. The poor old sod was eighty now, and had been so upset when Michael picked him up earlier. ‘Take no notice, eh? You know what Mum’s like. Her bark is worse than her bite.’
‘No, it isn’t. Her bite is far worse than her bark, son. Like a pit bull.’
As the striking black horses took Vivian Harris on her final journey, the sun made an appearance through the clouds.
Lots of old neighbours who’d moved away to areas such as Kent and Essex returned to pay their respects, and the church was soon full to the brim. The vicar Queenie and Viv had known since childhood had recently suffered a stroke, so Queenie had appointed the young Reverend Johnson to conduct the service. He was a local chap, and both she and Viv had known his mother for years.
Flanked either side of their mother, Vinny and Michael Butler looked a formidable force. Both wore their thick black hair Brylcreemed, Vinny’s combed back and Michael’s parted and smoothed to the side. Their expensive suits, shoes and Crombie coats were part of their image. Neither would dream of being seen out in anything less than a top-of-the-range suit. ‘You need to look the part if you want others to respect you,’ their mother had told them from an early age.
Queenie fought desperately not to crumble as the vicar gave a glowing eulogy. He described Vivian as a vivacious, humorous, good-natured pillar of the community who would do anything to help the less fortunate. The last part wasn’t exactly true, but his words were lovely nevertheless.
‘Morning Has Broken’, Vivian’s favourite hymn, was played, then Michael stood up and gave a heartfelt tribute to his aunt. Vinny had wanted to give a eulogy, but Queenie decided to honour her sister’s wishes. ‘If I croak it before you, don’t you dare let that murdering bastard of a son of yours speak at my funeral. Disobey my wishes and I swear I will come back and haunt you,’ Viv had insisted.
Sitting in the front row next to his father, Little Vinny felt his body stiffen and the colour drain from his face. ‘You Are My Sunshine’ was the song that had been played at Molly’s funeral, and as an image of what he’d done to her flashed through his mind, he felt the bile rise to the back of his throat. Her eyes were bulging with sheer terror and the look of confusion on her face as he’d pressed against her windpipe would haunt him for ever. He was so sorry, but nothing would bring Molly back. He had to live with what he’d done.
‘You OK?’ Vinny asked. Little Vinny put his hand over his mouth and ran from the church as rapidly as his shaking legs would allow.
Annoyed by his son’s departure, Vinny squeezed his mother’s hand. ‘You sure you want to speak? I can say something on your behalf if you like?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Queenie answered, somehow maintaining a stiff upper lip. She walked up the front and turned to face the mourners. ‘My Vivvy. Where do I start? She was an angel, she really was. The best sister I could have wished for. She was kind, loving, funny, charming and so loyal. She always had my back. As kids we would play along the Waste for hours on end. Hopscotch was our favourite pastime. Then as adults we’d get dolled up and spend our Saturdays mooching along Roman Road market. So many happy memories of the good old days, that’s all I’m left with now.’
Pausing to blow her nose, Queenie bravely continued. ‘I never used to believe in life after death, but that’s the only thing I can hold on to now. I’ve got to make myself visualize Vivvy in heaven with her Lenny and cling on to the hope that one day we will be reunited. I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the mornings otherwise. My heart is broken – beyond repair, to be honest. But my Viv was a tough old cookie and she’d want and expect me to carry on with my life. It’s so difficult, though, as she was such a big part of it and I feel like I’ve lost my right arm, I really do. We were inseparable, as most of you know, and some days I kind of forget she’s not here and pick up the phone to call her. Like the other day, for instance, when the news broke that a bloke had been found dead floating on top of Michael Barrymore’s swimming pool. Loved Barrymore, Vivvy did. Me and her used to roll up at My Kind of People. We’d take the mickey out of all the notrights on there.’
Dabbing her eyes, Queenie’s expression turned vicious. ‘A natural death I could’ve coped with better, but not this. Scum, they are, the ones who did this to my Vivvy, and I hope they rot in bastard hell. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Cunts, that’s what they are, who did this to her. Wicked, despicable cunts.’
In shock that the C word had been used not once but twice in the house of God, the vicar quickly took over. ‘Let us pray,’ his voice boomed.
The service ended with Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’, and there was barely a dry eye in the house. Albie Butler was a broken man, shoulders hunched, sobbing into his handkerchief. Ava, Vinny’s daughter, was in pieces. Queenie’s obvious pain could probably be heard as far away as the Mile End Road, and even Vinny and Michael had tears rolling down their faces.
Vinny put an arm around Michael’s shoulders. ‘Come on, we’ll have a cigar and look at the flowers. We’ve done Auntie Viv proud, eh?’
Michael nodded. Some of the floral tributes had been spectacular. He and Vinny had a beautiful white angel made with AUNTIE VIV spelled out in pink roses. The neighbours had all chipped in to buy a big LADY OF THE MANOR display and the Frasers had sent a beauty that simply said LEGEND, which was very apt. Vivian Harris had received the kind of send-off a legend like herself truly deserved.
Little Vinny was crouched around the back of the church, head in hands. How he could have done such a detestable thing to his own flesh and blood he did not know. But he had, and he’d had to live with it ever since.
Growing up, Little Vinny had issues. His mum had died when he was very young and his dad was too busy running the club to take proper care of him, so he’d ended up living with his nan. At school he wasn’t popular, and his only real pal was another loner, Ben Bloggs. Little Vinny would call the shots and Ben would dance to his tune. It was when they got into the skinhead scene that Little Vinny’s behaviour went from bad to worse. He was a lost soul back then and had a ruthless, evil streak. Sniffing glue, getting drunk and smoking cannabis became the norm to him, and he was paranoid and eaten up with jealousy that his father doted on his little sister. So he’d planned three-year-old Molly’s abduction, enlisting Ben’s help, and then callously strangled her – dumping the body in a shallow grave near Hackney Marshes.
‘There you are! Are you OK? You’re shaking. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you find the service too upsetting?’ Sammi-Lou asked, her kind face full of concern.
Panic attack in full flow, Little Vinny took deep breaths like the doctor had once told him to, and nodded his head. What else could he do? Admit that he’d murdered his beautiful little sister and the police had locked up the wrong person?
The sun continued to shine for the actual burial, then the rain lashed down again.
‘Gawd stone the crows! That has to be a sign from Vivvy, boys. She wants us to know she’s OK. I mean, come on, it’s not stopped raining this week, has it? Not up until the hearse arrived.’
Vinny and Michael glanced at one another. Neither were big believers in the afterlife, but they agreed with their mother, offering words of comfort. If it made their mum feel better to think that Viv had the power to change the bloody weather, then so be it.
‘The caterers have done us proud. I belled Nick when I popped to the loo, and he reckons they’ve laid on a feast fit for a king. The seafood display is the bollocks, by all accounts,’ Vinny said.
Relieved that the funeral was over, Queenie managed a smile. ‘Loved her seafood, did Vivvy. She’d eat winkles like they were going out of style, bless her.’
Wanting to laugh at his mother’s innocent turn of phrase, Michael instead put his arm around her. ‘Ted’s gonna sing all of Auntie Viv’s favourite songs. I’ve given him a list, and I’ll put money on it she’s looking down singing along with us all, sweetheart.’
‘I’ll second that. Gonna be the best wake ever. One that people will still talk about in years to come,’ Vinny insisted.
Little did Vinny know at that point that the wake would turn out to be the worst in living history. It would be spoken about for many years to come, mind. But for all the wrong reasons.
CHAPTER SIX
Vivian’s wake was held at a restaurant in Stratford that Vinny part-owned. His pal Nick ran the gaff and had rearranged the furniture to accommodate the many mourners.
‘Ted’s not singing until later. I thought it best that people have a chat and something to eat first. I’ve given him a list of songs that Auntie Viv liked,’ Vinny informed his mother.
‘I love that photo of Vivvy. Who got it blown up? She looks so beautiful and radiant, doesn’t she?’ The huge framed photo on the wall had been taken in Queenie’s back garden a couple of years ago.
‘Michael sorted it. He said you’re to take it home with you later. Her smile lights up this joint, eh? I’d put money on it she’s here with us in spirit. I can sort of feel her presence, can’t you?’ Vinny said kindly. He knew it was what his mum wanted to hear.
Queenie nodded, then received a hug from the handsome Eddie Mitchell. Vivvy would be thrilled he’d attended her funeral. She’d always had the hots for Eddie.
‘A lovely send-off for a lovely lady, Queenie,’ Eddie gushed.
‘Thanks, Eddie. How’s Joycie?’
‘You’ve got yourself a fan there. Not stopped raving about you since her party. She tells me you’re going shopping together soon.’
‘Yes. We’re going to Lakeside. I’ll give her a bell tomorrow. I couldn’t concentrate on shopping beforehand, not with the funeral looming over me. Will cheer me up no end to see Joycie again.’
‘Great stuff. Joycie’s a one-off, like yourself, Queenie. What you see is what you get with her. Be good for you both to pal up and get out and about a bit. Stanley drives her doolally indoors.’
Spotting a white feather stuck to her shoe, Queenie grabbed Vinny’s arm. ‘Look! Another sign.’ Viv had always believed in the myth surrounding white feathers.
What neither Queenie nor Vinny realized was there was one almighty sign heading their way, and it was by no means pleasant.
Mehmet Malas studied the photograph of Vinny Butler. It had been taken many years ago, but Vinny was very distinctive looking and shouldn’t be too hard to pick out of a crowd. ‘How long till we arrive?’ he asked his brother.
‘About thirty minutes. No hanging around. Straight in, do the business, then we leave immediately.’
The Turks continued their journey in silence. All three had been good pals with Ahmed and Burak Zane and it was obvious what had happened to them. Vinny Butler had had it coming to him for a long while, and now he was finally going to get it. If you live by the sword, expect to die by it.
‘Slow down a bit, Vin. You haven’t half been knocking them back,’ Sammi-Lou advised her husband. Little Vinny didn’t usually touch alcohol and wasn’t the best drinker in the world on the odd occasion he did.
‘Don’t nag me, babe. I need a drink today. Spent a lot of time with Auntie Viv when I was young. I miss her,’ he replied. The real reason he was knocking them back was to recover from the trauma he’d suffered at the church, but he could hardly admit that to Sammi-Lou.
‘I think I’ll make a move with the boys if you’re going to get plastered. You can get a cab home later.’
‘Stay ’ere and chill. The music’s starting now.’
Teddy Chapman was a legend on the East End pub and club circuit. He’d once worked at Vinny and Michael’s old haunt in Whitechapel, and kicked his set off with Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.
‘Vivvy loved this song, boy. She would’ve much preferred this played inside the church than Vera bloody Lynn. She didn’t even like Vera,’ Albie informed his son, before knocking back another straight brandy. He’d been drinking like a fish again since Viv had died.
Michael put an arm around his father’s slumped shoulders. ‘I’ve told Ted you’ll be singing “Spanish Eyes” later. It’s what Auntie Viv would’ve wanted, so bollocks to Mum and Vinny. They start kicking off, they’ll have me to deal with.’
Tears in his eyes, Albie managed a weak smile. ‘Thanks, boy. Means the world to me, and I know it would’ve meant the same to Viv.’
Psyching himself up, Mehmet Malas ran his fingers gently along the barrel of the machine gun. He’d been sentenced to a hefty stretch inside for supplying a large quantity of heroin around the time Ahmed and Burak had disappeared, hence his delay in getting revenge for his dear friends. ‘Brothers’, he liked to refer to his compatriots as. Ahmed and Burak were the real deal, had always been there for him and his family.
Deniz was driving and had been instructed to wait outside the restaurant with the van’s engine running. ‘We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,’ he informed Mehmet and Hassan.
The two men glanced at one another, then smiled. ‘Allahu Akbar,’ Mehmet mumbled. He was a big believer, and knew Allah would be on their side.
‘I’ve got something to tell you, Nan. Dad said I wasn’t to say anything until after the funeral, but I’ve finally got myself a job. I’m manageress of Dad’s Holborn club, and will take care of the business for him when he opens the casino,’ Ava informed her grandmother.
Queenie Butler looked at her granddaughter in astonishment. Ava was twenty now and Queenie had virtually brought the child up after her mother died. She was a stunner, with long black hair, and piercing green eyes like her father. Unfortunately, she also took after her father in being a law unto herself and full of surprises. ‘You can’t work there. It’s a knocking shop! No way is that a place for a young lady like yourself to work. It’s absurd! Disgusted with your father, I am!’
Ava hadn’t been herself lately. She’d been very close to her cousin Daniel and had formed a bond with Roxanne, so it had knocked her for six to find out they were related. She’d also been upset that neither had contacted her since their doomed wedding. On top of that, Auntie Viv’s death had been terribly upsetting. But now the funeral was over, Ava was determined to move on with her life and enjoy every second. ‘We’re not in the sixties now, Nan. It’s the twentieth century, and I assure you I can handle a few strippers. It’s the family business, remember? Puts food on all of our tables, yours especially.’
When his father started to sing, Vinny stormed out the back rather than take his anger out on his brother. Eddie Mitchell followed his new business partner. ‘What’s up, pal?’
‘Just this fucking song. It’s the old man’s party piece. He was singing this to Viv when she croaked it, so the nurses reckon. Bound to upset my mum. I don’t wanna kick off, though, as it’s obvious Michael’s given Ted the nod for the old bastard to ruin Al Martino’s street cred.’
Eddie chuckled. ‘Families, eh? Can’t live with ’em or without ’em. So, how’s it going with Fliss? Gina thought she was top drawer,’ Eddie said. Vinny had apologized profusely after they’d had words in the restaurant. He’d said he was drunk and sent Gina a beautiful bouquet. Eddie wasn’t one to hold grudges over something so trivial, so their flare-up was now forgotten. Unless Vinny stepped out of line in the future, of course.
Vinny smiled. Though no one would have suspected, he’d been celibate for years until Felicity had come on the scene. The reason being, he was a brutal bastard in the sack and had a habit of terrorizing women, especially prostitutes. He’d accidentally killed one bird and ended up having to set the body on fire to dispose of it. ‘It’s going quite well, Ed. She’s a cracker. Never thought a bird would reel me in again, but she seems to be doing just that. She’s ballsy, but not demanding. Very intelligent too.’
