TWO
On the morning of her son and nephew’s funerals, Queenie was woken up by the sound of torrential rain pounding against her window. ‘Poxy bastard weather,’ she mumbled as she pulled back the curtain. Funerals were miserable enough occasions at the best of times, but there was nothing worse than standing at a graveside in the rain.
Queenie Butler marched into her daughter’s bedroom and yanked the blankets from over her head. It was nine days since Brenda’s husband had left her. Dean had gone out for a newspaper one morning and had not come back. It had since come to light that he had cleaned out his bank account that very day. Unable to face life as a one-parent family, Brenda had moved into Queenie’s with her four-year-old daughter Tara. Both were high maintenance and loved a tantrum, and Queenie just wished they would sod off home.
‘Out of that pit and get yourself ready – and don’t forget to wear your cross,’ Queenie ordered. She and Vivian loved their gold, and always wore their big gold crosses supported by thick belcher chains for funerals, weddings and christenings in hope of impressing the vicar.
‘I don’t feel well, Mum. I feel sick again. Can’t I stay here and look after Tara?’
Brenda had only had her pregnancy confirmed by the doctor the previous day. Dean had really left her in the lurch and if Queenie ever got her hands on her son-in-law, she would wring his scrawny neck.
‘Don’t give me all that old flannel. You get your arse out that bed now, and make yourself look tidy. Not attend your own brother and cousin’s funerals? Never heard such cobblers in my life. Selfish little mare you are, Brenda. Well, today isn’t about you, it’s about Roy and Lenny, and if you don’t do me proud, I shall disown you.’
About to run a bath, Queenie heard a noise outside and looked out of the window again. ‘What the bleedin’ hell’s she doing now?’ she muttered. Vivian was dragging what looked like Lenny’s bedside cabinet up the garden path, and making quite a racket as she did so.
Putting on her shoes and coat, Queenie ran downstairs and out the front door. ‘Whatever are you doing? It’s not even six o’clock yet. You’ll wake the neighbours up, and you’ll catch pneumonia in this weather.’
‘I’m putting Lenny’s stuff out for the dustmen. Not going to be needing it any more, is he?’
Queenie stared at her sister. When they had first learned about Lenny’s death, Vivian had cried and wailed like an injured animal, but since then she had shown hardly any emotion. She had barely mentioned the funeral and Queenie found it very odd that she wanted to chuck all the poor little sod’s belongings away. There was no way she could part with anything of her Roy’s. ‘Viv, there’ll be flowers arriving soon. Leave sorting out Lenny’s belongings until after the funeral. If you still want to get rid of them, I’ll get one of the boys to take the stuff to the dump for you.’
‘I wish you’d stop telling me what to fucking do, Queen,’ Vivian spat, dumping two cardboard boxes full of toys next to her sister’s feet.
Queenie looked down and immediately felt a lump in her throat. Zippy the monkey had been Lenny’s favourite toy. He had carried it everywhere with him as a kid, and had always slept with it in his bed until the day he died. Queenie picked the toy up. No way was she going to allow her sister to throw that away. It should be buried with Lenny.
Michael was shocked to receive an early morning phone call from his wife. It was the first time they had spoken since Nancy had been taken into hospital. She had wandered out one evening in her nightdress and slippers and had been found by a man in an alleyway the following morning. The doctors had suggested that Nancy’s odd behaviour could be down to post-natal depression, but seeing as Adam was now two, Michael found that hard to understand.
‘Nance, I’ve really missed you, babe. The boys had a great time yesterday and were full of it when they came home. They didn’t stop talking about their granddad, so I take it it all went well?’
‘Yes, it went very well. My dad adored them, and I’m ever so pleased. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. How are you? I was so sorry to hear about your brother and Lenny. When are their funerals?’
‘Today. Will you come with me, Nance? My mum and aunt are both in a dreadful way and I could really do with your support.’
Nancy sighed. She had only just started to feel like her old self again, and didn’t fancy spending time with Michael’s family yet. Vinny had a way of making her feel anxious, and Brenda would be bound to kick off with her over Dean going away. ‘I’m sorry, Michael, but I don’t feel up to attending funerals. I will look after the boys for you though. Mum said you were taking them with you and I’d rather you didn’t. They’re far too young to be surrounded by death.’
Michael was cross. He had cared for his sons almost single-handed these past couple of months. It also hurt him that Nancy had only called because she had wanted to have Daniel and Adam for the day. Did she not love him any more? Was their marriage over? Well, there was only one way to find out. An ultimatum should do the trick. ‘Nance, I cannot believe what you just said. “I will look after the boys for you” – have you forgotten you’re their mother? Look, I know you’ve been ill and I sympathize with that, but now you’re feeling better, you need to have a think about us. I’ll give you a week to get your arse back home, and if you don’t, I shall start divorce proceedings. Our sons are unsettled enough as it is at the moment and I won’t allow you to keep fucking them about. They miss you, I miss you, and you should be back at home where you belong. You can’t hide behind your parents for ever. As for the funeral, the boys are coming with me, end of. It’s not fair on Lee if they don’t.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bad mum and wife, but I have been really ill,’ Nancy replied, her voice full of emotion.
‘No, you haven’t been ill, Nance, you’ve been depressed. Two different things, so my mum reckons. Don’t you think I get depressed too? My cousin has just been beheaded in a car crash, Roy has blown his brains out, and I’m currently trying to run a business and bring up three kids on my own. Do you wanna swap fucking places? Listen, I’ve got to go now. I need to get round my mum’s and the boys haven’t had any breakfast yet. I meant what I said though, Nance. You’ve got a week to make up your mind, or we’re finished.’
Joanna Preston held Vinny’s arm as they strode towards Queenie’s house. It had been her boyfriend’s idea that she ring her mum this morning. He had said that her eighteenth birthday was as good a time as any to try and patch things up. He’d also insisted she tell her mum that she was pregnant.
‘You OK? Shame your mum went off on one, but she will come round in time you know,’ Vinny said. He had been dying for Johnny Preston to find out that he had got his daughter up the spout. Deborah was bound to tell him the news, and Vinny only wished he could be there to see the look on the bastard’s face.
‘Are all these people here for the funeral, Vinny?’ Joanna asked, as they turned the corner. There was a crowd of about a hundred or so.
‘Yeah, must be. Bit early they are, though. I hope they haven’t knocked on my mum’s door. I told them to leave her be,’ Vinny replied. His mother had insisted that, apart from family, she wanted nobody inside the house.
The flowers spread across his mum and aunt’s front gardens brought a lump to Vinny’s throat. The wreath he had chosen, with ‘Champ’ spelled out, was that big it literally shone out like a beacon.
Little Vinny was ten years old and with his black hair
