train, God rest his soul.
Michael glanced at his watch, then lit a cigarette. He’d wanted to sell his house to rid himself of the constant reminders of Adam, but Daniel and Lee had begged him not to. Rather than put his sons through any more trauma, Michael had taken the property off the market for the time being.
Spotting his mother and Vinny in the distance, Michael walked towards them. Today would’ve been his brother Roy’s thirty-ninth birthday, hence the meet.
Dressed in a long black coat, Queenie Butler linked arms with her strapping sons. Lots of people had stopped her in the street, praising her boys for getting Mr Arthur’s medals back, and Queenie was extremely proud of them. Vinny, her first-born, owned a gentleman’s club in Holborn, while the Whitechapel club that Vinny and Roy had purchased as teenagers now belonged solely to Michael.
‘You all right, Mum?’ Michael asked.
‘I’ve had better days, boy. But what can ya do? No bringing back the dead, is there?’
The Enemy put the hood up on his sweatshirt before he got on the train. He’d been away so long, he doubted anybody would recognize him, but it was better to be safe than sorry. One of the conditions of his early release was that he didn’t travel out of Dagenham. He was currently living in a hostel there, although the nice lady at the council had promised to try and find him a flat.
Happy memories of time spent with his dad and grandparents flooded his thoughts. He never allowed himself to think about his mother any more. She’d washed her hands of him when he’d done what he did, and the Enemy was glad. She was a slag and an embarrassment to him.
When the train stopped at Whitechapel station, he leapt off and walked towards the road where Queenie and Vivian lived. His nan had despised those pair and so did he, especially Queenie. It was she who’d raised the monsters who had ruined his life, and he would now repay her in full. See how she liked her nearest and dearest bumped off for no good fucking reason. Queenie Butler would suffer all right – he’d make damn sure of it.
As proud as a peacock, Queenie Butler strutted along Roman Road market with her sons either side of her. It was rare they accompanied her here, especially on a busy market day and she was aware of the dolly birds’ admiring glances. So handsome her boys were. Stood out in a crowd wherever they went.
‘Daddy, that nasty lady nearly stood on Fred,’ Ava squealed.
‘Carry the dog for her, Mum. Me and Michael can’t exactly walk about cuddling a lapdog, we have a reputation to uphold,’ Vinny chuckled.
When her sons were suddenly surrounded by a group of people wanting to chat with them and shake their hands, Queenie could’ve burst with pride. She’d raised her boys to be somebodies in life and they’d exceeded all her expectations. Feared and respected in equal measure, Vinny and Michael were now seen as kings of the East End. The only family who could even hold a candle to her boys were the Mitchells out of Canning Town, and they were Vinny and Michael’s friends.
‘Nanny, I want a poo-poo,’ Ava announced, tugging her grandmother’s arm.
Telling her boys she would meet them in five minutes outside Woolworths, Queenie led Ava towards the nearest toilets.
‘Is my daddy famous, Nan?’ Ava enquired innocently.
Queenie couldn’t help but smile. ‘Yes, darlin’. Your daddy is a legend.’
After indulging in pie and mash for lunch, Vinny Butler suggested they leave behind the hustle and bustle of the market, and instead have a drink in the Palm Tree.
‘Not been in this boozer since your loser of a father brought me ’ere when we were courting. It’s not changed much. Got a good old days feel about it,’ Queenie reminisced.
‘Roy brought Colleen here as well. The day he proposed down the Roman, they came here to celebrate afterwards. You heard from that slag lately?’
‘Don’t call her that, Vin. Colleen is a decent girl, that’s why your brother loved her. I know you think she moved on too fast, but it was Roy who ended things with her. She was brilliant, caring for him after the accident.’
Roy Butler had been shot in the head outside his club in the early seventies – hit by a bullet that had been meant for Vinny. When he finally awoke from his coma, he’d been told that he’d never walk again. For a respected man who’d lived to walk the walk and talk the talk, it was a crushing blow. Unable to cope with his disabilities, Roy had ended his own life in 1976 – by shooting himself in the head. He left behind one child, Emily Mae, who lived in Ireland.
Michael raised his glass. ‘To a top brother and a true legend.’
Vinny and Queenie chinked glasses. ‘To Roy,’ they said in unison.
Bella D’Angelo shut her eyes, thankful that Antonio was fast asleep at last. She badly needed some thinking time.
It had been nine years ago that she first set eyes on Michael Butler, back in the spring of 1977. She’d gone to the Carpenter’s Arms with a pal, and her first memory of the immaculately turned out man she would fall in love with was how much he looked like the pop star David Essex.
Their affair had been short and sweet, but so very passionate. Michael had admitted to Bella early on in their relationship that he was in love with her, but he’d still chosen to end things. He’d been married to Nancy at the time and had called it a day for the sake of his young sons.
Shortly after Michael broke up with her, Bella moved to New York to start afresh. Back then she’d been a catwalk queen herself, so there’d been no shortage of male admirers. Bella had dated many, but none had matched up to Michael. It was on one of her trips back to London that Bella had met Antonio’s father. She’d been in a club up town with a friend and had spotted a guy who had reminded her of Michael. He wasn’t quite as good looking, but had the same colour hair, green eyes and that same gruff East End accent.
A steamy sex session had followed in a hotel. Bella had been rather tipsy, and had totally let her hair down. It had been her idea to indulge in a bit of dirty role play. How ashamed she felt about that now.
‘You OK, Mummy?’
Bella opened her eyes and smiled at her beloved boy. She was anything but OK, had even toyed with staying in Italy for good. But she could not get Michael out of her mind. Nights were the worst. His handsome face would haunt her dreams and she’d wake up happy, until remembering the party and the smirking face of the bastard who’d fathered Angelo. No way could Michael ever find out what she’d done. It would totally destroy him.
Strolling confidently into the fishing-tackle shop, the Enemy headed straight for the counter. ‘I need a decent filleting knife, mate.’
The owner asked his age, then showed him half a dozen. ‘That one’s your best bet, but it’s expensive. Like most things in life, you pay for what you get.’
‘I’ll take it,’ he replied, taking a wad of notes out of his tracksuit pocket. He wasn’t short of dosh. He’d sold cannabis resin while inside, and was continuing to do so now he was out.
Fifteen minutes later, the Enemy was on a District Line train on his way back to Dagenham. He hoped his dad and granddad were looking down from heaven and were proud of him. That’s if his granddad was even in heaven, of course. Rumour had it, Vinny had put
