The Trap (51 page)

‘Oh my God! Call an ambulance. My son’s been stabbed,’ Donald screamed, as the men made their getaway.

Within minutes, both police and ambulance services had arrived. Christopher had been stabbed in the thigh, but was conscious and seemed jovial enough. As he was lifted into the ambulance on a stretcher, a big cheer and much clapping surrounded his departure. The robbers might have got away, but Christopher’s bravery had meant that they had left the scene without their ill-gotten gains and minus their gun.

Donald squeezed his son’s hand as he sat beside him in the ambulance. He had tears of pride in his eyes. Unlike his daughter who had turned out to be a massive disappointment, Christopher was not only a son to be proud of, but also a bloody hero.

Dean Smart’s head was all over the place. He knew that Nancy had been tempted to respond to his kiss before she had frantically pushed him away and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. His nan was due to go into hospital today, and he was worried about that also. He was petrified her heart might not withstand the operation.

‘So, where was you the other day then, Dean? I thought you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Have other plans, did you?’ Brenda asked, marching into the room holding Tara’s hand.

‘What you on about now?’

‘Tell Daddy what you just told me, love,’ Brenda urged her daughter.

‘I said that I stayed with Nanny Freda and you went out with a friend,’ Tara mumbled. She knew she had said or done something wrong, but didn’t know what.

‘So? What, is that a crime then, is it?’ Dean asked, glaring at his miserable-looking wife. She had obviously been interrogating their daughter as per usual. The woman was a psycho.

‘Of course it ain’t a fucking crime, but why keep it secret, eh? I know you, Dean Smart, you’re hiding something from me. Out with one of your fancy women, was you? I might ring Michael and see where Nancy was that day.’

‘You’re mental, you are, Bren, and I really have had a gutful of it. I did tell you where I’d been when you came in Saturday night, and I told you that Tara had spent a few hours with my nan, but you were that pissed out your brains yet again, you obviously don’t remember.’

‘Liar,’ Brenda shrieked, picking up the plant pot and throwing it at her husband. She could recall the conversation she’d had with Dean, and not once had Dean mentioned dumping Tara at his nan’s house while he went out gallivanting alone.

‘You’re hurt, Daddy,’ Tara screamed, as Dean crouched down clutching his bleeding head.

‘It’s OK, darling. Daddy’s OK,’ Dean said, feeling a bit dazed.

Aware that her husband’s hands were covered in blood, Brenda began to worry that she had crossed the line. ‘I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

Dean stood up, pushed past his wife and stomped up the stairs.

‘Where you going?’ Brenda yelled, when minutes later Dean came down with a big sports bag in his hand.

‘I’m going to stay at me nan’s house while she’s in hospital. She’s worried about her cats. It’ll do us good to have a break anyway. Oh, and for your information, I had a drink with my cousin Del the other day. Ring him if you don’t believe me,’ Dean said. He had already rung Del to cover his back if need be.

‘You’re not leaving us, are you, Daddy?’ Tara sobbed, clinging to her father’s legs.

‘No, darling,’ Dean lied. As soon as Vinny returned from Eastbourne, Dean had decided to have a man-to-man chat with him. He was going to explain in detail just how unbearable life was with Brenda. Along with Micheal, Dean was virtually running the club now, so Vinny needed him on side, and as long as he got the OK from Brenda’s big brother, Dean planned to leave his bitch of a wife for good.

Overcome by worry, Deborah Preston had rung Wormwood Scrubs and booked an emergency visit to see Johnny. The prison was quite strict about hastily arranged visits, but when Deborah had explained that there was a terrible family crisis and she needed to break the news to her ex-husband gently and in person, she had thankfully been granted permission to visit Johnny at short notice.

Deborah could not get her daughter’s welfare out of her mind. Her Johnny might have been a bit of a villian and done some stupid things in his time, but he had a kind face and a good heart deep down. Vinny was a different breed, Deborah knew that. He had been smirking at her as she was helped back onto her chair by Sandy, and Deborah would never forget the pure look of evil in his eyes.

‘Are you ready to make a move, mate?’ Sandy asked, putting the last of her things in her case.

‘Yeah, I’m ready. You can change your mind and stay here, you know. I don’t mind, honest.’

‘Nope. I’m coming with ya. Birds of feather stick together, mate. Do you wanna take another mooch over to Jo’s chalet and see if she’s back yet? I mean, surely she can’t have gone to London for long if she wants to keep her job here?’

‘No point going looking for her again. That wolf in sheep’s clothing will make damn sure Jo doesn’t return to Eastbourne until we’re well out the picture. Why do you think he dragged her off to London the following day? Because he don’t want the whole fucking truth coming out, that’s why. Oh well, Chloe has promised me she will make sure Joanna reads my letter. Chloe hates the bastard too. She reckons Jo is like a different girl since Vinny’s been on the scene. I mean, he must have a real sick mind, Sandy. What sort of grown man preys on a seventeen-year-old slip of a girl just to get revenge for something her father did? The thought of that bastard mauling my baby makes me want to vomit.’

‘Try not to think about that side of it, Deb. Let’s just hope when Jo reads that letter and knows the full story she will see Vinny in a different light. I mean, you only told me everything yesterday, and I was shocked to the core. Surely your Jo will feel the same as I did, eh?’

‘I hope so. If not, Johnny will have to sort it. He knew a lot of heavy people back in the day, so I’m sure one of his old pals can step in and help him out in his hour of need. I just hope he can handle the news being in prison. I hope it doesn’t fuck his head up completely.’

Sandy gave her friend a comforting hug. ‘Everything will turn out just fine, mate. I know it will.’

With Nancy refusing to look after the kids yet again, claiming she had another migraine, Michael had no option other than to ask his pal Kevin to accompany him to Eastbourne. He needed someone to keep an eye on and entertain the boys. Kevin was now a married man himself with a two-year-old son.

Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his pal’s life had turned out. When Kev was young he used to take the piss out of his mixed-race roots by putting on a fake Jamaican accent, yet he had now ended up marrying a Jamaican girl and made his living out of selling black music to black people.

The journey to Eastbourne went quickly as Michael and Kevin chatted about old times. ‘Right, this is the care home. My mum said the beach is literally five minutes from here, so you take the kids there, and I’ll come and find yous when I’m done. Wish me luck. I think I’m gonna need it.’

Roy was sitting in his bedroom staring out of the window when he heard a knock on his door. ‘You have a visitor, Roy,’ one of the carers said, in a silly sing-song voice.

Wheeling himself over to the door, Roy opened it. His mum had said she was going back to Whitechapel. Little Vinny was due to have the plaster off his arm, and he had already missed the first two weeks of his new term at school. ‘I’m not expecting any visitors. Who is it?’ Roy asked.

‘A man called Michael. He says he’s your brother, and it’s urgent.’

The word ‘urgent’ pricked Roy’s interest. Perhaps one of the family had died or had an accident. If that was the case, then he hoped that person was Vinny. ‘OK. Send Michael in here.’

Michael felt terribly guilty as he walked into Roy’s bedroom. It was a cheerful-enough looking room with a nice view, but he immediately clocked that his brother had lost weight, looked slightly unkempt, and dead behind the eyes. ‘Hello, bruv. So sorry I haven’t got down to Eastbourne before. I’ve had a lot of problems, as Mum has probably told you.’

About to tell his brother to cut the niceties and get straight to the point, Roy remembered his mum telling him that Denise and her mother had died in a car accident, and Lee was now living with Michael. ‘Mum did tell me bits and pieces. How is Lee getting on?’

Michael went on to explain that Lee had settled in well, but that he thought Nancy was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

‘That’s a shame. I thought Nancy was a nice girl when I spoke to her. She reminded me of my Colleen in her mannerisms.’

‘How do you feel about Colleen getting engaged again?’ Michael asked, innocently. He had no idea that his mother hadn’t informed Roy that Colleen had a new bloke who had recently proposed to her.

Feeling like his heart was about to break in two, Roy wanted to cry, but instead put on a brace face. His mum obviously hadn’t told him the news because she was worried about how it would affect him. ‘Colleen deserves to be happy. She’s a good woman. Where are the boys today? Is Nancy looking after them?’ he asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘I should be so lucky. Nancy can’t even function, Roy. Lee has started school now, but I kept him off today so he could come to Eastbourne with his brothers. Kev travelled down with me. He’s taken the boys to the beach.’

‘Can you take me to the beach so I can see them?’ Roy asked. He used to gabble his sentences once upon a time, but each now took him many seconds to complete, which still sometimes infuriated him.

‘Yeah, ’course I can,’ Michael replied. He was amazed his brother seemed so jovial.

‘So, what was the urgent news?’ Roy asked.

Michael put his hand in his trouser pocket and handed the letter to his brother.

‘Who is it from?’

‘It’s from Dad, but you musn’t tell anyone I gave it to you. Dad gave it to me just after the shooting and I promised him that one day I would give it to you when I felt the time was right. Put it in your drawer and read it later when you are alone, eh?’

‘Are you still in touch with Dad then?’ Roy asked, after he’d put the letter away.

‘It’s a long story, Roy. I want you to read that letter tonight, then tomorrow we’ll speak on the phone, OK?’

Roy gave his younger brother a half-smile. ‘OK.’

Johnny Preston was a bundle of nerves as he was led down the corridor by two screws. He knew something serious was occurring. There was no way Deborah would cut her trip short and request a visit if she didn’t have bad news of some kind.

Every scenario of what might have happened flashed through Johnny’s brain. Thank God he had only just found out about the visit, because if he’d have known about it yesterday, he’d have gone off his head through worry. ‘Ain’t you taking me to the normal visiting room?’ Johnny asked the screws.

‘No. I cleared it with the guvnor that you and your ex-wife could chat in the interview room. It’s more private in there.’

Johnny got on well with all of the screws he had dealt with in the Scrubs. He had learned early on that if he respected them, not only was it handy to get a few perks, they seemed to respect him also. His mother used to say to him when he was a child, ‘Johnny, always speak and treat other people how you would like to be spoken to and treated yourself.’ Johnny had never forgotten that sound piece of advice, and had found it worked especially well in prison. ‘Lads, can I ask you a favour? I know you are meant to stand in on this visit, but would you mind awfully if you waited outside? My Deborah has never requested a visit such as this before, so it’s obvious something awful has happened. I would just rather be in the room alone with Deb when she tells me, if you know what I mean?’

Gerry, the taller screw, glanced at his colleague for approval, then nodded. Apart from a table and chairs, there was sod all else in the room, so he couldn’t see the harm in allowing Johnny some privacy.

As soon as Johnny entered the room and saw the look on Deborah’s face, his worst fears were well and truly confirmed. ‘Whatever’s wrong, babe? Is it Jo?’

Urging her ex-husband to sit down opposite her, Deborah wrapped both her hands around his. ‘It’s our Jo’s new boyfriend. I found out who it is.’

‘What is he, black? Indian? Spit it out, woman,’ Johnny demanded.

‘It’s Vinny Butler,’ Deborah said, her hands shaking at the thought of Johnny’s reaction.

Unable to comprehend what Deborah was trying to tell him, Johnny looked at her as though she were stark raving mad. ‘Vinny Butler! What about Vinny Butler?’

‘Vinny is Joanna’s secret boyfriend. She’s moving to London next month to be with him. She’s gonna work as his secretary.’

Letting out one almighty roar, Johnny Preston grabbed hold of the table, lifted it up and threw it against the wall so hard, two of the legs fell off of it. Seconds later, the two prison officers barged through the door and wrestled a deranged Johnny to the floor.

Nancy Butler was rocking to and fro in the armchair and crying like a baby. Her mum had just rung her to tell her that her brother had been stabbed by an armed robber, and even though Nancy no longer had any contact with Christopher, the thought of somebody sticking a knife in him had upset her badly.

Nancy thought back to when they were kids. She and Christopher had been so close once upon a time. The short spell they had spent living in Whitechapel particularly sprang to Nancy’s mind. Their parents had been so busy trying to make their new business venture work, Nancy had no other option than to hang out with her little brother. Neither of them knew any other children in the area; they had left all their lifelong friends in Stoke Newington.

The thing that stuck in Nancy’s mind the most was Christopher’s obsession with the posh man with the posh car who owned the club around the corner. Ironically, that had turned out to be Vinny Butler of all people.

Nancy put her head in her hands. Even though her dad was a pompous prick at times and Christopher a little know-it-all shit, Nancy suddenly realized how much she missed having them in her life. She had forsaken her family just to be with Michael, and for the first time ever, she wondered if she had done the right thing. She wasn’t a Butler at heart, never would be. She was a Walker.