and chucked it on the floor at Donald’s feet. ‘That’s to pay for any damage and whatever’s left, give it to your kids as a Christmas present,’ he said, generously.
‘Silence money, that is. I know that Christopher witnessed you murder that man, ’cause I bloody saw him standing there,’ Freda yelled.
Absolutely terrified of Vinny, and unable to cope with the lie he had told, Christopher burst into tears and ran up the stairs.
‘Get out, all of you. Get out now,’ Donald bellowed.
Heads held high, Queenie and Vivian strutted out of the door as proud as peacocks.
‘And I don’t want your dirty money,’ Donald said, picking up the twenty-pound note and chucking it back at Vinny.
Vinny did not like Donald one little bit. In his eyes he was nothing more than a jumped-up pompous prick. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Christopher had lied on his behalf, Vinny would have upped him there and then. ‘The money’s yours, if you don’t want it, give it to your kids,’ he ordered.
‘Am I barred too?’ Freda asked Donald.
‘Yes. Get out,’ Donald yelled.
Terrified that Donald and Vinny were now going to start fighting, Mary took Nancy upstairs. ‘I don’t like it here, Mummy. Can we please move back to Stoke Newington?’ the girl sobbed.
Realizing that they now had no spectators, Vinny gave Donald his special stare. ‘I’d watch your back if I was you, mate. No-one speaks to my mother and aunt like shit and gets away with it, and I mean fucking no-one.’
When Vinny walked out and slammed the door, Donald quickly locked it, then crouched down with his head in his hands. They had only been in Whitechapel for a short while and already their lives were in ruins. There was no way back after today’s events. Whether Mary liked it or not, Donald was determined to put his foot down now. The quicker he got his family away from this God-forsaken area, the better.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Queenie Butler absolutely loved Christmas. The festive season was all about family, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than having all her brood around her. She opened the oven door to check on the sausage rolls and mince pies. Most women that she knew did the bulk of their cooking on Christmas Eve, so all they had to concentrate on the following day was cooking their vegetables. Not Queenie though. She had been up since six pottering about in the kitchen as she wanted everything to be nice and fresh. Only the best for her family.
Queenie grinned as Vivian let herself in and Lenny bounded up to her. ‘Has Santa been yet, Auntie Queenie? Mummy said he was delivering my presents to your house this year because he knew I would be here.’
‘Yes, Santa’s been, but he told me to tell you that you’re not allowed to open your presents until Vinny and Roy arrive,’ Queenie said, giving her wonderful nephew a loving hug.
‘Vinny not here yet? I hope he still ain’t got the hump with us,’ Vivian said, referring to the altercation in the café the previous day.
Vinny had been none too pleased when he had driven his mum and aunt home. ‘Why did you have to go in there of all places and kick off? You know their little boy lied for me in the identification parade. Think before you act in future, for Christ’s sake,’ Vinny had bellowed.
Queenie sent Lenny upstairs to tell Brenda and Michael to get their skates on, then turned to her sister. ‘Vinny’ll be fine, Viv. Loves the bones of me and you, you know he does. I’m sure he had something else on his mind yesterday and that’s why he went on the turn. Them people in the café won’t kick up no fuss. Didn’t you see the petrified look on that Donald’s face when you started whacking him with your brolly?’
Vivian couldn’t control the fit of giggles that followed. ‘And what about when you punched him in the side of the head? That overbearing wife of his started squealing like a pig.’
Laughing hysterically, Queenie held her crotch with one hand to prevent herself wetting her knickers, clinging onto her sister’s arm with the other. ‘What are we like, eh Viv?’
‘Salts of the earth, Queenie. Salts of the earth, girl,’ Vivian roared.
Less than a mile down the road, the festive spirit in the Walker household was anything but jovial.
‘Well?’ Donald asked, when Christopher pulled the wrapping paper off the plastic policeman’s helmet.
Unable to stop himself, Christopher burst into uncontrollable tears. How could he ever wear that hat and join the police force now after he had told such an awful lie?
‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ Mary asked, holding her sobbing son in her arms.
Christopher could hide the truth no longer. ‘I lied to the police. Vinny did kill that man. I saw him do it.’
Outraged by his son’s confession, Donald let out a few expletives, then clouted the boy around his ear. ‘How could you lie to the police, Christopher? Your mother and I brought you up to be honest. Disgusted with you, I am. Bloody appalled!’
When Nancy began to cry as well, Mary ordered her husband to calm himself. ‘Hitting Christopher is not the answer here, Donald. You need to take him down to the police station to sort this mess out once and for all.’
‘Why did you lie to us all, boy? Why?’ Donald bellowed, his face red with temper.
‘Vinny threatened to hurt you, Mum and Nancy if I told the truth. Please don’t tell the police, Dad. Vinny scares me so much,’ Christopher begged.
Donald paced up and down the room in a total frenzy.
‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault,’ Mary soothed, putting a comforting arm around her son.
‘Please can we go back to Stoke Newington, Mum? Me and Christopher hate living here,’ Nancy pleaded.
‘Let’s see what happens after your dad has spoken to the police, love,’ Mary croaked, in a voice that sounded nothing like her own.
Donald turned to his wife. ‘I am not going to the police. Our lives will be hell if Christopher now admits to what he saw. He will be tarnished as a liar for the rest of his life, and we will forever be looking over our shoulders for repercussions from the Butler family.’
‘Well, what do you suggest we do then, Donald? A man has died. We can’t just let his killer roam the streets,’ Mary pointed out.
‘Oh, yes we can. We have to for our own safety. I will not have my children’s lives put in danger, Mary. We must pack up our belongings and leave this café immediately. We can then put the property on the market, and start afresh in a much nicer area.’
‘But we can’t just do a moonlight flit, Donald. I love this café. You know I do.’
‘And I love my children and you, Mary, which is why we have to leave.’
‘I’m so sorry I lied to you, Dad,’ Christopher cried. He felt so guilty. Everything was his fault.
Donald
