pulled fifty pounds out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘That should cover your heartbreak, darling,’ he said.
Judy took the money and was relieved when Vinny called his brother.
Roy came out of the lounge with a giggling Mark in his arms and handed Judy her son. ‘Cute kid,’ he said, as he followed Vinny towards the front door.
‘I’ll be back to see you in a fortnight,’ Vinny shouted, glancing back at her.
Judy said nothing. She would keep the fifty pounds and let her brother deal with Vinny and Roy. No one was going to make her get rid of her baby, that was for sure.
When the snow started to come down more heavily, Nancy begged her brother to come home with her.
‘I will in a bit, but let’s just wait another half an hour, eh? Vinny always gets here by midday,’ Christopher explained.
About to demand that they go home that very second, Nancy spotted a posh car driving slowly towards them. ‘Is this him?’ she asked hopefully.
Recognizing the Jag and and the number plate, Christopher stood up and urged Nancy to do the same. ‘As soon as he pulls up, I’m going to walk over the road and apologize for Dad’s behaviour. You stay here.’
‘No, I’m coming with you,’ Nancy insisted. There was no way she was going to chance her brother keeping the money for himself.
Vinny and Roy were still chatting about their father’s bit of fluff when they pulled up outside the club. Both agreed that they should carry at least a knife on them for the foreseeable future, just in case there was any comeback from Judy’s brother.
‘Do you think we should pay Johnny a little visit? Explain the situation, like,’ Roy asked.
Vinny shook his head. Even though Judy lived in Forest Gate, Johnny Preston was a South London boy. He had recently started to hang around the Richardsons like an unwanted dog and liked to tell anyone who would care to listen that he was now part of their firm. Vinny knew that this wasn’t the case. Eddie Richardson was in partnership with Mad Frankie Fraser. They were in the gambling business, owned most of the fruit machines and one-armed bandits in pubs and clubs all over London, and Vinny had heard through the grapevine that Mad Frankie Fraser thought that Johnny Preston was nothing more than a two-bob cock. ‘Nah, Roy. South London ain’t our territory, so we’ll bide our time and let silly Johnny come to us,’ Vinny said, sensibly.
‘You might as well wait ’ere while I run in,’ Roy said, changing the subject. They had only stopped at the club to pick up the mohair suit they’d had specially made for Michael in Savile Row.
Vinny picked up his newspaper and seconds later was aware of somebody hovering nearby. Recognizing Christopher, he opened his window. ‘You all right, boy?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you. This is my sister, Nancy, and we came to apologize for my dad’s behaviour, sir,’ Christopher said, solemnly.
Vinny grinned, stepped out of the car and ruffled Christopher’s hair. He’d been a bright kid once himself and he could sense that Christopher was hoping to get his hands on the money he had offered him the previous day. ‘No more calling me sir, it’s Vinny to me mates,’ Vinny replied, taking a ten-shilling note out of his wallet and handing it to the boy.
Nancy and Christopher both stared at the note with their mouths wide open.
‘Take it, then. It’s to share equally between you,’ Vinny urged.
Christopher snatched the note and nudged his sister.
‘Thank you, Vinny,’ Nancy said, feeling suddenly shy.
‘Yeah, thank you very much, Vinny,’ Christopher added.
Watching the two children run away excitedly, Vinny grinned. That was his good deed done for the day.
Michael’s best friend Kevin had a Jamaican dad and an English mum and as the two young men walked into the Rib Room in Belgravia, both were aware of the nudges and whispers from snooty onlookers.
‘My brothers will be here in a minute. We’re a bit early,’ Michael said, awkwardly. He was well aware that the two posh old trouts on the table behind were looking down on Kevin because of his colour.
‘Is they talking about me because I a negro?’ Kevin asked, imitating a heavy Jamaican accent.
Michael burst out laughing. Kevin had been brought up in Mile End and was as cockney as he was. His dad had gone back to Jamaica when Kevin was just a baby and Michael always joked that the only other black man Kevin had ever met was the coal man when he was covered in soot. ‘Can you imagine the crumpet we’ll pull when we go out for a spin? We can go up Carnaby Street whenever we want,’ Michael suggested.
Kevin grinned. ‘I reckon we are gonna have the time of our lives now we can get out and about properly.’
Michael raised his glass and clinked it against Kevin’s. He adored his best pal, his family, his job, and now he finally had his beloved Lambretta, life was all but perfect.
‘Bleedin’ posh round ’ere, ain’t it? Talk about how the other half live,’ Vivian said to Queenie. She had never been to this part of London before and it was certainly more wealthy-looking than Whitechapel. Where they lived, the air was polluted by the rotting fruit in the market, and women were on their hands and knees scrubbing their doorsteps daily. Vivian couldn’t imagine the women of Belgravia even knowing what a scrubbing brush was.
Vinny had chosen the restaurant as a treat not only for his brother, but also with his mum and aunt in mind. The Rib Room had the reputation of selling the best beef in London and Vinny knew how partial his mother and aunt were to a decent piece of steak. ‘We’re nearly there now. Harrods ain’t far from here, you know,’ Roy said, pointing in the direction of the famous store.
‘I wanna do a wee-wee,’ Lenny said, holding the crotch of his trousers.
‘I think I’m gonna puke,’ Brenda complained, clutching her stomach.
Knowing how travel-sick his little sister had been once before in his car, Vinny pulled over immediately. ‘You know where the restaurant is from here, don’t you, Roy? Walk down there with Mum, Auntie Viv and the kids while I find somewhere to park.’
‘How’s she getting on with that girl at school now?’ Vivian whispered, as Brenda leapt out of the car and began to retch onto a nearby kerb.
Brenda had started secondary school only a few months ago. In her old school she’d had lots of friends, but in her new one, she had made very few and the only good friend she did have, she’d had a fight with earlier in the week. ‘She was glad I let her have today off to come out with us, but she’ll be OK. You know what kids are like. They hate one another one minute and are best mates again the next. What about Lenny? You told him he’s going back to school after Christmas yet?’ Queenie asked.
Vivian shook her head. Lenny had always attended mainstream schools, but the teachers had recently struggled to cope with him. They said he needed to go to a school that would be more equipped to cope with his needs. Vivian had been furious at the time and had given the headmaster what for. She wasn’t stupid, she knew her son was different, but she hated hearing other people say it. The local council had come to her rescue when Vinny had gone up
