Butler finished his hundred press-ups and decided to have a rest before starting his sit-ups. At least six times a day he exercised vigorously. In prison you needed something to focus the mind on.
Thanks to his smart-arse brief and brilliant Queen’s Counsel, Vinny had literally gotten away with murder. The prosecution had tried to portray him as some kind of monster, but the jury had clearly been touched by Molly’s untimely death, and all he’d ended up with was an eight-year stretch for manslaughter. Bobby Jackson’s family and friends had gone apeshit when the murder verdict was read out as ‘not guilty’. Jackson’s lunatic of a mother had even lunged at Queenie and then been dragged from the court kicking and screaming.
Having already spent over a year on remand before his trial, Vinny should have been up for parole soon. It was usual to serve only half your sentence if your behaviour was good. Unfortunately for Vinny, he’d had a few altercations with other lags over the years, and as a result the authorities had argued he should not be released yet. His brief, however, was on the ball and had told Vinny that, providing he stayed out of trouble, he was sure he could get him parole in the next year.
Lying on his bunk, Vinny stared at the ceiling. He was by far the most respected inmate in the Ville now, and so he bloody-well should be – after all, he was the Vinny Butler. It hadn’t been easy, getting his head back together after Molly’s death, but once he’d made his vow not to think or speak about his daughter, he’d started to get back to his old self. It had been tough, and even now he couldn’t stop Molly appearing in his dreams, but he refused to shed a tear. Only weak men cried, and if prison had taught Vinny anything, it was how to be mentally strong.
He checked the time; his brother would be here soon. It was a prospect that gave him no pleasure. Relations between himself and Michael had become somewhat strained ever since he’d been banged up. Right at the start they’d had a bust-up over Little Vinny’s living arrangements that kept them from speaking to each other for nine months. Vinny had expected his son to move in with Michael, and had gone ballistic when his brother had instead rented a house opposite his own and allowed Little Vinny to live in it with their arsehole of a father. In Vinny’s eyes, Molly would still be alive if his old man hadn’t fathered an illegitimate child with that slag Judy Preston.
When Michael disobeyed his wishes and turned the club into a disco, it had led to even more friction. It grated on Vinny that his brother had been right and he’d been wrong. Even though it was earning him big bucks, he’d rather the disco had failed. Anything would have been better than having to eat humble pie.
In Vinny’s opinion, the success of the venture had gone to Michael’s head. According to Ahmed, he was now swanning around Whitechapel in a brand-new red Porsche convertible like he owned the fucking area. He’d gotten far too big for his boots, and Vinny would have liked nothing better than to bring him down a peg or two.
Resisting the urge to punch the wall, Vinny took a deep breath and did his sit-ups instead. He had no idea why Michael had insisted on visiting him today, but he’d be glad when the visit was over.
Standing in the queue to be searched, Michael Butler smiled politely at a blonde who seemed unable to take her eyes off him. He was used to lots of female attention. His boyish good looks and charm attracted all types.
The blonde walked over to him. ‘Hi, I’m Wendy – I’ve seen you in the Blind Beggar. I’d just like to thank you for getting rid of you-know-who. He attacked me many moons ago and I’m so glad I never have to bump into him any more.’
Rumour had spread around the East End that Michael was responsible for Pervy Pat’s little accident and subsequent disappearance. Billy Higgins had recovered from his heart attack, then died of another six months later, and Janey had since moved away from the area. Far too wise to ever admit his involvement, Michael nevertheless enjoyed the notoriety. Even law-abiding members of the community looked upon nonces as vermin, and he was now seen as some kind of local hero.
After politely telling the blonde she must have mistaken him for somebody else, Michael allowed the screw to search him, then sauntered into the visiting area.
Vinny faked a smile as his brother approached. ‘What the fuck’s that?’ he asked, pointing at Michael’s new ring.
‘What’s it look like, Vin?’
‘Something you nicked out of a bender’s jewellery box.’
Knowing Vinny was being his usual facetious self, Michael decided two could play at that game. ‘Treated meself up at Hatton Garden, bruv. Look at the quality of that diamond. It’s flawless. Bought this Gucci watch an’ all. Thank God I had the foresight to turn our business around, eh? Would never have been able to afford such luxuries otherwise. If we’d stuck with those live singers like you wanted us to, I’d have been wearing a Swatch by now,’ Michael chuckled.
‘You have what is referred to in medical terms as short-term memory loss, Michael. Have you forgotten how you cried and threw all your toys out the pram when I marched in that shitty garage and told your old boss you couldn’t be his tea boy no more? You’d still be working there if it wasn’t for me taking the initiative.’
Smirking, Michael laughed out loud. ‘I doubt that very much. Got more of a business brain than you’ll ever have, that’s for sure. What I’ve done to the club speaks for itself. The proof is in the pudding, brother dearest.’
Vinny was not amused. ‘If you’ve come ’ere just to give it the big ’un, bruv, you might as well fuck off now. I really ain’t in the mood after the morning I’ve had.’
Sarcastic tone immediately changing to one of concern, Michael asked what had happened.
‘Jay Boy’s brother’s been killed, and I heard some Jock cunt laughing about it earlier. He’s so gonna get it. It’s the same mouthy prick who gave me stick when I first arrived. He’s only been back in ’ere a week. I’m gonna shut him up for good this time,’ Vinny hissed, before glancing around to check nobody was earwigging.
‘Sorry to hear that. I know how close you are to Jay Boy. Be careful though. You don’t wanna get more time added on your sentence.’
‘I’m gonna have a word with Jay later. He’ll be out before me and he needs something to look forward to. I’m gonna offer him a job at the club.’
‘Erm, aren’t you forgetting something? We’re partners, remember?’
‘Don’t start larging it again, Michael. The mood I’m in, I’ll smash you right across this room in a minute.’
Michael stood up. Vinny would never change. He was a regular Jekyll and Hyde. ‘I’m gonna tell Mum we had a pleasant visit and you’re sending me another VO real soon. Best you say the same if you don’t wanna upset her. Oh, and I’m happy to trust your faith in Jay Boy and employ him. Perhaps in future though you should ask me rather than tell me. It’s much more polite and professional.’
‘See you, you flash cunt. I’ve got people keeping an eye on you. So watch your back, big man,’ Vinny bellowed.
Michael held his hands out and pretended they were shaking. ‘I’m terrified, bruv. Honest I am.’
Losing it completely, Vinny leapt up to punch Michael’s lights out and was quickly restrained by the screws.
Having spent the afternoon drinking brandies in the Rose of Denmark, Vivian could now see the funny side of her little tumble. ‘Trust
