a war on his hands. Especially a war he’d had sod-all to do with in the bloody first place. Stuart’s death still needed to be avenged, mind, and Eddie was hoping he could pay somebody to do the dirty work for him. He had a lot of contacts in Belmarsh, and was sure there would be an opportunity in the future to get at those Turkish bastards. He would make it his mission in life, if need be. That, and keeping the rest of his family safe from now on. You only got so many reprieves in his world, and his close brush with death earlier this year had forced Eddie to see life in a whole new light. It was a gift, something sacred, and he was now determined to see all his kids grow up and get married.
He was about to open the dreaded parcel, when his phone rang. ‘Everything all right, Joey? How’s she doing today?’
Gina was having none of it when he’d suggested Frankie and the kids stay at theirs for a while. His wife had told him that Brett could stay for as long as he wanted, but under no circumstances would she ever allow Aaron and Rosie to sleep under the same roof as Georgie and Harry. Frankie was currently struggling to look after herself, let alone the devil’s spawn, so Joey had stayed at hers since Stuart’s death. There was no other solution at this moment in time.
‘We had plenty of tears again this morning, but thankfully she seems to have perked up this afternoon. Little Vinny rang earlier, and invited Frankie and the kids over to his tomorrow. She didn’t want to go at first, but I managed to talk her into it and she called him back. It’ll do her the world of good to talk to somebody who is going through the same thing as she is. Even worse, in Little Vinny’s case, as he lost Oliver as well. When I spoke to him, he said he was worried about his lads. One of his sons has just come out of some youth detention centre, and both boys are understandably missing their mum and brother. He seems to think the brats’ company will perk them up, which I can’t quite understand,’ Joey Mitchell explained.
‘Little Vinny’s youngest stabbed his teacher, so I’m sure he and Harry’ll get along just fine,’ Eddie replied sarcastically. ‘Did Frankie drink again last night?’
‘Yes, but only about a bottle and a half of wine. No vodka, which is an improvement on last week. I can’t stop her, Dad. She reckons it’s the only way she can sleep. We have to hope that, now the funeral is over, she’ll knock it on the head.’
‘The devil’s spawn been playing her up?’
‘Nope. Been in their bedroom most of the day. Georgie has even offered to cook us dinner one evening. Although I might pass on that for fear of her poisoning me.’
Eddie managed a weak chuckle. ‘Cheers for staying with her, Joey. Dunno what I’d do without you at times. You truly are a star.’
‘Thanks. But as I told you at the funeral, I can’t stay here forever, Dad. Dom needs me too. We spoke last night, sorted a lot of stuff out, and I promised him I’d go home next week.’
Alarmed, Eddie Mitchell rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘But Frankie can’t be left on her own, son. How’s she meant to cope? It’s far too soon.’
‘Perhaps you can stay with her for a while? Or let Gary take his turn at playing the caring brother? I’m not being funny, Dad, but I’m not going to balls-up my life while everybody else seems to be getting on with theirs.’
‘You know what a needy notright Gary’s married to. She ain’t gonna let him stay at Frankie’s now they’ve got their first nipper on the way. And Gina needs me at home. Aaron and Rosie are a handful at times. Can’t Dominic stay at Frankie’s with you? She likes him and that might cheer her up.’
‘No, Dad, he can’t. You know what a piss-taking, homophobic piece of work Harry is. I’m not putting Dom through any more of his snide remarks. I suggest you put your foot down with Gina. Either tell her you to have to stay with Frankie, or insist Frankie and the kids stay at yours. Frankie should come before Gina. She’s your daughter.’
Mumbling, ‘And you’re her fucking twin,’ Eddie ended the call and opened the package. As he’d thought, it wasn’t a ‘Good Luck with Your New Venture’ present from Harrods. Instead he found two dead pigeons and another bible quote:
DEUTERONOMY 19:18–21
THE JUDGES SHALL INVESTIGATE THOROUGHLY, AND IF THE WITNESS IS A FALSE WITNESS AND HE HAS ACCUSED HIS BROTHER FALSELY, THEN YOU SHALL DO TO HIM JUST AS HE INTENDED TO DO TO HIS BROTHER. THUS YOU SHALL PURGE THE EVIL FROM AMONG YOU. THE REST WILL HEAR AND BE AFRAID, AND WILL NEVER DO SUCH AN EVIL THING AMONG YOU. THUS YOU SHALL NOT SHOW PITY. LIFE FOR LIFE, EYE FOR EYE, TOOTH FOR TOOTH, HAND FOR HAND, FOOT FOR FOOT.
Bemused, Eddie put the lid back on the box. If the Turks were locked up, it couldn’t be them sending this weird shit. So who the hell was it?
Firing up the ignition, Vinny Butler turned to his son. ‘You did Sammi-Lou and Oliver extremely proud. Your speech was phenomenal.’ Today Sammi-Lou and Oliver had been laid to rest, and Vinny was so proud of the way his son had behaved since their deaths. He hadn’t fallen to pieces as Vinny had feared, and it was his son who’d contacted him to apologize for the silly argument they’d had at the hospital.
‘Cheers, Dad,’ Little Vinny replied, before ordering his sons to fasten their seatbelts. The authorities had cut the rest of Regan’s sentence. He’d been due home soon anyway, so it was no big deal to them. It was to Little Vinny though. He’d achieved something Sammi-Lou had long craved.
Being banged up had changed Regan somewhat. He’d matured whilst away, shot up in height and acted far older now than a twelve-year-old. Vinny Butler liked the new Regan. Suddenly he saw him as a chip off the old block. ‘You OK, lads?’ Vinny asked. Both his grandsons had cried briefly today, but considering the dreadful circumstances, they’d held their emotions in check brilliantly. Regan had even stood up and bravely read a poem he’d written himself about his mum and brother.
‘We’re OK. Can me and Cal order a pizza when we get home? We’re starving now,’ Regan replied. There would have been plenty of food at the wake, but because it was being held at Sammi-Lou’s parents’ house, his father hadn’t wanted to go. Granddad Gary had been acting arsey lately; it all came to a head at the vigil when he told Regan: ‘You’ve been a terrible son. Put your mother through hell, you did.’ Little Vinny had flipped and punched Gary Allen in the face. ‘Ever talk to my boy like that again, you’ll have my dad to answer to, cunt,’ he’d yelled, before storming out, dragging Regan and Calum with him.
‘How did you leave it with the Allens?’ Vinny asked his son. ‘I saw you chatting to Meg outside the church.’
‘I told her she’s welcome to see the boys whenever, but Gary needs to calm down before I’m allowing him contact with ’em. Ball’s in their court now. Calum and Regan are Butlers, whether Gary likes that or not, and I won’t allow him to drag our name through the mud. I know he’s upset and angry, but aren’t we all? I dug you out at the hospital, but soon realized the error of my ways and apologized. Best Gary does the same, eh? He needs to treat me and the boys with a bit more respect if he wants to be part of Calum and Regan’s future.’
Vinny put the palm of his hand on the back of his son’s neck. ‘I can’t tell you how fucking proud of you I am these days. Whatever happened to the skinhead delinquent that used to knock about with that muppet Ben Bloggs, eh?’
Shuddering as he thought of Ben, then Molly, Little Vinny turned the volume on the radio up.
Queenie Butler put the kettle on. Sammi-Lou and Oliver had been laid to rest together. Queenie had been dreading the actual funeral and had cried buckets. She still
