The Trap (10 page)

‘Shall we bring the cake out now?’ asked Vivian.

Vinny didn’t reply. He was too busy watching Kenny Jackson make a tit of himself. Vinny didn’t like Kenny one little bit, and had he known Sheila would bring her husband along with her, he wouldn’t have invited her in the first place. ‘That prick is asking for trouble, Roy,’ Vinny hissed.

‘Why? What’s he done?’ Roy asked. Kenny was a local loudmouth who drank in the Blind Beggar. Roy had never liked him either.

‘He keeps swearing in front of the kids. He’s let a “cunt” fly three times now in front of Mum, and Nancy and Brenda are sitting next to her. Champ is there as well. It ain’t right, Roy. I’m gonna have a little word in his shell-like.’

Knowing what his brother’s temper was like, Roy urged Vinny not to say anything. ‘You don’t wanna spoil Mum’s birthday, do you? Anyway, we’ll be wrapping things up in a bit. It’s gone five now. Who invited Kenny? It weren’t me.’

‘It’s my fault. I invited Sheila, but ’cause that piss-pot is always in the Blind Beggar on Saturday afternoons, I didn’t dream she’d bring him with her. I wanted to tell him to fuck off when he walked in, but bit me tongue.’

Desperate to stop Vinny from kicking off, Roy urged him to look at Lenny. Their cousin had just ran onto the dancefloor and was standing in the middle, wiggling his hips to the Hollies’ ‘Just One Look’.

About to watch his little cousin, Vinny heard another ‘cunt’ sail out of Kenny Jackson’s gob and decided enough was enough. He flew out of his seat, walked over to where Jackson was sitting and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Tone your language down a bit, Ken. My little sister and her friend shouldn’t have to hear such words. Neither should my mother and aunt for that matter either. You ain’t in the Blind Beggar with your chums now, you know.’

Kenny Jackson looked at Vinny through glazed eyes. He didn’t like the Butler boys, especially Vinny and Roy. It was fast becoming common knowledge that they were a cocky little pair of bastards who were getting far too big for their boots. Knowing how fast news travelled and how much respect he would gain by standing up to Vinny Butler, Kenny decided to do just that. ‘You got some brass neck, you have. The grapevine is a funny old thing, kid, and everybody knows it was you who put your father in hospital because he was rumping some little dolly bird. Yet, you’ve got the front to tell me not to swear. Don’t make me laugh.’

A few of the women and children screamed when Vinny lifted Kenny up by the scruff of his neck and head-butted him. ‘You don’t know who you’re messing with, you cheeky fucker. And who you calling “kid”?’ Vinny spat, as he bundled Kenny towards the exit.

Sheila wailed hysterically when she saw that her husband’s face was covered in blood.

‘Do something, Roy. Don’t just sit there like a stuffed dummy,’ Queenie yelled.

‘Kenny Jackson asked for that, so don’t you be having a go at your Vinny,’ Vivian told her sister.

Young Nancy couldn’t stop crying when she saw Roy and Michael follow Vinny outside. ‘I’m frightened, Christopher. Can we go home now?’

‘Don’t be scared. No-one ever beats my brothers up because they are the hardest men around here,’ Brenda said proudly to her friend.

As some yelling and shoving started between another two men on the table behind, Christopher grabbed his sister’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

Mary and Donald had closed for the day and were just doing their daily tidying-up routine when they heard the frantic banging on the door.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Mary asked, when she noticed Nancy’s tear-stained face and Christopher’s ashen one.

‘It’s OK. You’re home now. Just tell Daddy what has happened,’ Donald said, glaring at Mary and hugging his daughter at the same time.

‘There was a fight. The man looked like he was dead, didn’t he, Christopher?’ Nancy sobbed.

Christopher nodded. When he and Nancy left the party, Vinny had been outside beating seven bells out of Kenny Jackson. Roy and Michael were unsuccessfully trying to get Vinny away from the man, and when Christopher and Nancy had glanced at Kenny, he was bleeding profusely and looked like he was dead.

‘Oh Donald. I’m so sorry. You were right and I was wrong,’ Mary said, apologetically.

Donald liked to be proved right. ‘I think you need to find a new best friend at school, darling. That Brenda and her family are far too rough for you to be around.’

‘But I like Brenda. It’s not her fault, is it?’ Nancy said dismally.

Mary decided to back her husband to the hilt. ‘Your dad’s right, love. You can still be friends with Brenda at school, but I don’t want you to see her outside.’

‘But why not?’ Nancy sobbed.

‘Because I just bloody said so. The same goes for you, Christopher. I know you’ve been hanging around near that snooker club because Mad Freda saw you and told me. She only lives a few doors away from it, you see. You are not to go near there any more. I don’t want either of you anywhere near them Butlers, OK?’ Mary said sternly.

Thrilled that his beautiful wife’s brain seemed to be in fine working order once more, Donald smiled at her. ‘Thank you, my darling.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Queenie put the topside of beef in the oven, then flopped down on the sofa next to Vivian. ‘I wish we could find out how Kenny is. He couldn’t have grassed Vinny up, else we’d have the police crawling all over us by now. Perhaps he is still out cold? Or, worse still, say he’s croaked it,’ Queenie said, her lips twitching anxiously.

Realizing her sister was going out of her mind with worry, Vivian got up and poured them both a glass of sherry. ‘Of course Kenny ain’t dead. The ambulance man said he was still breathing, didn’t he?’

After Roy and Michael had managed to drag Vinny off Kenny Jackson, they had moved him away from the snooker club, dumped him in a nearby doorway, and rung an ambulance. Sheila had been told to say nothing and Queenie was sure that providing Kenny survived his ferocious beating, neither he nor Sheila would dare implicate her Vinny. Grasses were despised in London’s East End, and treated worse than vermin.

‘If Kenny dies and my Vinny goes to prison, it’ll be the end of me, Viv. I’d die of a broken heart, I just know I would,’ Queenie said dramatically.

‘Oh for Christ’s sake, stop talking bollocks and drink your sherry, will ya? Vinny’s got our dad’s temper, that’s his bloody problem. Anyway, Kenny Jackson took liberties and Vinny had every right to give him a good fawpenny one.’

‘How dare you talk about my Vinny in the same light as that nasty old bastard,’ Queenie spat. Their father was dead now, thank God, but before he had kicked the bucket, he’d led their poor mum a dog’s life.

‘I didn’t mean it like that. Your Vinny is nothing like Dad. I just said he had a similar temper,’ Vivian explained.

‘No he has not! Have you forgotten how Dad used to beat Mum up? My Vinny would never lay a finger on a woman, Viv. He’s a gentleman,’ Queenie insisted.

Michael stomped in, ending the awkward exchange between the two sisters.

‘What’s up? Has something happened to do with Kenny Jackson? Vinny ain’t been arrested, has he?’ Queenie gabbled.

‘No. I’m just pissed off because Linda has blown me out. Well, it weren’t actually her. It was her dad that did the deed.’

‘Why?’ Queenie asked.

‘Why do you think? Her dress got splashed in claret yesterday, didn’t it? Her dad saw it when she got home and hit the roof. I tried to explain to him that what had happened had nothing to do with me, but he wasn’t having none of it. He told me that under no circumstances would I be allowed to take Linda out again, then he shut the door in my face.’

‘What a fucking liberty! Do you want me to speak to him? Or even better, send Roy or Vinny round to have a word?’

Michael shook his head. ‘Nah, not worth it.’

‘Oh well. Perhaps it’s for the best, love. There’s plenty more fish in the sea and you need a girl who will understand your family, don’t you? You’re in business with your brothers now, so no point you being with someone too naïve who has up-their-arse parents. They won’t fit in with us,’ Queenie advised.

‘And Vinny did say to you that you shouldn’t have invited Linda yesterday, didn’t he? Perhaps you should keep any future girlfriends away from the club. Business and pleasure should always be kept separate, Michael,’ Vivian added.

‘Don’t be blaming me for inviting the girl. I didn’t know my lunatic of a brother was gonna nigh-on kill a man in front of her very eyes, did I? As for the poxy business, I didn’t want to be part of it and still don’t. All I ever wanted was to be a mechanic,’ Michael said, his eyes blazing angrily.

‘Don’t you dare call your brother a lunatic. And where do you think you’re going?’ Queenie shouted, when her son leapt out of his chair and put his parka back on.

‘Out with Kev on me bike. It’s the only time I get any peace and quiet,’ Michael yelled, slamming the front door.

Vivian raised her eyebrows and smiled at her sister. ‘Boys, eh? Who’d have ’em?’

Over at the café, young Christopher Walker was bored out of his brains and in desperate need of excitement. ‘Please come out and play, Nancy? I really want to know if that man is dead or not, don’t you? The police might be at the snooker club and if we walk past we might be able to see them and we can find out exactly what happened to him.’

Nancy immediately shook her head. She had been petrified yesterday when the fight had broken out at Brenda’s mum’s party, and the sight of that poor man lying on the pavement covered in blood would probably stick in her mind for life. ‘No, Christopher! I am never ever going near that club again, and neither should you.’

Christopher put on his coat and ran down the stairs. There was no way his parents would let him play out on his own after what had happened yesterday, so he would have to pretend that he was popping round to see Tommy. Surely he could get away with telling one little white lie, couldn’t he?

‘You can visit Tommy, but I want you back by five. And don’t you dare go near that club again, Christopher,’ Donald warned his son.

Albie Butler was shocked to see the state of Kenny Jackson. Both men frequented the Blind Beggar pub, but rarely drank in the same company. ‘Jesus wept! What happened to you, Ken?’

Ordering Sheila to leave them alone and come back in ten minutes, Kenny couldn’t keep the sneer off his battered face as he turned back to Albie. His injuries included concussion, a fractured wrist, broken nose, and he felt and looked as though he had spent ten rounds in the ring with Henry Cooper. ‘I had a fucking run-in with your psycho of a son, that’s what,’ Kenny wheezed.

Albie felt his pulse start to quicken. He had always been a bit wary of Kenny Jackson. He’d seen him do a bloke with a hammer in the Blind Beggar a few years back, and had always given him a wide berth since then. ‘I’m sorry, Kenny, I really am.’ Albie didn’t have to ask which son had beaten the living daylights out of Kenny.

‘You’re sorry! Is that all you’ve got to say? That boy needs taking down a peg or two, Albie. Everybody knows it was your Vinny who put you in here. I mean, what type of boy does that to his own father, eh? The kid’s a fucking animal to do this to me in front of my wife. Us men don’t involve our women in such spats, you know that.’

Mortified that people knew that his own son was responsible for his broken legs and ribs, Albie bowed his head in shame. ‘I dunno what to say to you, Kenny. There is nothing I can do to help your predicament. The only thing I can suggest is you accept the beating and swallow your pride. Vinny has no respect for me. He has never listened to a word I say.’

Old Mr Perry smirked as he listened to the conversation going on a few feet away from him. He had been so bored cooped up in a hospital bed after his bowel cancer operation, but since Albie had arrived, the pure entertainment had lifted Mr Perry’s spirits no end.

Christopher Walker felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sat down on the step in the doorway opposite the snooker club. Popping a sherbert lemon into his mouth, the boy looked to his right. His mum had said that Mad Freda lived near the club and he wondered which house it was. About to turn back, Christopher noticed the white Triumph Herald convertible parked up. He could vaguely make out the silhouettes of what looked like two men sitting inside the car, and he wondered if they were friends of Vinny’s or undercover policemen.

Taking his sweet out of his mouth to see how much longer he had to suck to reach the sherbet, Christopher thought back to the events of yesterday. When the fight had first broken out, he had been just as scared as his sister. But after he had got back to the safety of his parents’ café, Christopher couldn’t stop thinking about what he had seen. He had found the whole experience exhilarating, and he now couldn’t wait until he was old enough to join the police force, so he could investigate people being beaten up and murdered.

Feeling his heart start to beat faster when the door of the club swung open, Christopher was disappointed to see Roy come out alone. Christopher had never really spoken to Roy like he had Vinny, and even though he was dying to know if the man who had taken a beating had croaked it, he decided to hold his tongue until Vinny appeared.

A couple of minutes after Roy walked around the corner, Christopher heard a car door slam, glanced to his right, and saw the two men get out of the Triumph Herald. When they walked up to the door of the club, and rang the bell, Christopher ducked his head in the hope they wouldn’t notice him. Vinny’s car was parked outside the door of the club and as long as he stayed crouched down, Christopher guessed the men wouldn’t be able to see him. Unfortunately for him though, he had already been spotted. The woman whom he and his parents referred to as Mad Freda had been glued to her window for the past fifteen minutes.

Vinny Butler was alone in the club when the doorbell rang. ‘Who is it?’ he shouted, his hand on the bolt, ready to open the door.

Having watched the club since seven a.m. that morning, Johnny Preston knew that he had finally got Vinny alone. He had seen Michael arrive and leave earlier, and Roy had left just a few minutes ago. ‘It’s Judy Preston’s brother, Johnny. Can we have a quiet word, please?’