The Wronged: No parent should ever have to bury their child.... Kimberley Chambers
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Johnny chuckled as he plonked the drinks on the table. He’d overheard the back-end of the conversation. ‘You’re so gullible. How do you know that Vinny hasn’t tracked you down because he found out about Ava, eh? Darren could be working for him for all you know.’
Seeing her daughter’s happy mood suddenly deflated, Deborah was livid. ‘What the hell is wrong with you, Johnny? If anybody deserves to find happiness, it’s our Jo. Do us a favour and go for a walk, will you? Ava wants an ice cream, so you can take her with you.’
Johnny grabbed Ava’s hand. Perhaps he was a bit over-protective now. But he had every right to be after the Vinny debacle. Like any decent father, all Johnny wanted was the best in life for his daughter.
‘Granddad, pick me up. I don’t want to walk.’
Grinning at his cheeky granddaughter, Johnny did as she asked. What Johnny did not realize, as he held Ava above his head until she squealed, was that the private detective Ahmed had hired was snapping away behind him with his camera.
‘It’s hot and noisy in here. Let’s go outside and have a chat,’ Ahmed said, putting an arm around Little Vinny’s shoulders. Burak was enjoying himself watching the strippers and Ahmed knew there was far more chance of the boy opening up to him if they spoke alone.
Eyes like a hawk, Michael followed his nephew. Approximately eighteen months ago, Little Vinny had gone off the rails for a while. He’d taken days off sick, looked like shit when he had turned up, and Michael was sure by his eyes he’d taken some kind of drug. Ahmed had been hanging around a lot at the time and even though Little Vinny had sworn blind that he’d not been spending time with Ahmed outside the club, Michael wasn’t so sure. ‘Where yous two going?’ he asked, grabbing his nephew by the arm.
‘Outside to cool down a bit. You really need to invest in some more of them fans that hang from the ceiling, Michael. It’s like a sweatbox in here,’ said Ahmed.
When Michael walked away looking none too happy, Ahmed smirked. Once outside in the fresh air, he began to sow his seed. ‘What’s all this about your father’s cellmate starting work here then, Vin? You sounded well pissed off on the phone.’
Little Vinny explained the situation.
‘Well, I can’t say I blame you for having the hump. I bloody would too. There is a very close bond between your dad and Jay. Whenever I visit your old man or he writes to me, he is always praising the lad. I think your dad sees him as a second son. He must have big plans for him if he wants him to work at the club though.’
Feeling extremely agitated, Little Vinny glared at Ahmed. ‘Whaddya mean, big plans? Has my old man said something to you? Only I’m the one that’s made a success of this club with Michael. He said it was taking peanuts when my fucking father was in charge.’
Ahmed put a comforting arm around Little Vinny’s shoulders. ‘No. Your dad has said nothing about his plans for Jay to me. I shall be going to visit Vinny soon, so will have a quiet word to see what I can find out. That’s just between us though.’
‘Of course. Cheers, Ahmed. I’ve worked my bollocks off for the sake of this business and if my old man gets out and puts that cunt Jay above me in the pecking order, I will tell him to shove his job where the sun doesn’t shine.’
‘When is Jay due to arrive?’
‘Soon. He got released from nick a few days after his brother died and travelled up to Liverpool. I think the funeral was on Friday, so I dare say he’ll turn up this coming week.’
‘I’m always on the end of the phone if you need me. What I reckon you would benefit from is a bloody good night out. How about we go up West in the week? Burak and I have found this great club. Everybody shags one another. You get some proper wild women in there, let me tell you,’ Ahmed chuckled.
Little Vinny shook his head. ‘I can’t be going places like that now I’m with Sammi-Lou. She’d kill me if she ever found out.’
‘How’s it going with Sammi? From what you said the other day, I got the impression the two of you had had a falling out.’
Ever since the blow-job moment, things had been strained between himself and his girlfriend, and Little Vinny knew she had the hump with him as she’d spent the weekend in Clacton at her friend’s parents’ caravan. ‘It’s going OK. She’s a bit full on at times, but I do love her, I think.’
Ahmed laughed. ‘You’re only eighteen. Far too young to know what true love is. You should be playing the field. You need to have many girlfriends to find the one. Then when you do, you marry her.’
Little Vinny respected Ahmed, but no way was he taking relationship advice from him. Ahmed had married an English lady called Anna who he had two children with. He was rarely at home though and fucked anything that breathed. ‘You know you just mentioned a night out. Well, it’s Sammi-Lou’s mum’s fortieth next Saturday. Her dad’s got a massive gaff in Essex and they’re having a big party. Sammi told me to invite all my family, but Michael said he can’t leave the club and my nan and Auntie Viv won’t go. Will you come with me? I’ve only met Sammi’s parents briefly a couple of times, and her old man makes me feel a right div, to be honest – and I won’t know any bastard there.’
Ahmed grinned. This party would be the perfect opportunity to get Little Vinny back on the booze and into his clutches. ‘I would be honoured to accompany you, my friend.’
Queenie Butler was that fuming, she slammed the phone down on her youngest son. That was the difference between her Vinny and Michael. Instead of laughing at her like Michael just had, Vinny would’ve been round like a shot.
‘Well?’ Vivian asked.
‘He told us to knock there ourselves. He said, “That’ll be the day I get into an argument ’cause a cat killed a bird.” He reckons it’s nature.’
‘Why didn’t you tell him about the bloody music, Queen? I can hear it through the wall now. They’re playing it again.’
‘Let’s have another brandy, then we’ll knock there. Talk about if you want anything done, do it your bleedin’ self. Eight bastard hours I was in labour with my Michael, and what thanks do I get, eh? None.’
Singing along to ‘Three Little Birds’, Shell Baker put the paintbrush down and cracked open a can of lager. She’d been arsehole lucky to get this house after her sons Kurt and Bradley had got her evicted from their previous property in East Ham. Thankfully for Shell, her mate Dawn worked for Tower Hamlets council and had managed to pull a few strings.
Family and friends meant everything to Shell, which was why she’d invited her brother Karl and his wife Melissa to move in with her. They’d been living in a poxy old bedsit that was full of mould and damp, and stood far more chance of getting their own place via Tower Hamlets council than Newham.
When somebody started ferociously hammering on her door, Shell’s first thought was that it was the Old Bill again. Then she reminded herself that Kurt and Brad were currently