‘You all right, Albie?’ shouted out Sid, who was perched on his regular barstool.
Albie didn’t even bother answering. He was anything but bloody all right. Cursing the day he had ever set eyes on Judy Preston, he sank his drink and called over to the barmaid to pour him another. Why hadn’t he used a rubber even though that lying cow had sworn she was taking that new contraceptive pill?
Taking his empty glass back to the bar, Albie returned with a full one. After Judy had informed him she was up the spout, he had spent ages begging her to get rid of it. He had even offered her a nice lump of cash which he had planned to borrow off Vinny or Roy, but the selfish bitch was intent on ruining his life.
Keeping a bit on the side secret was one thing. Keeping a fucking baby who belonged to you secret was another. Vowing to think with his brain in future rather than his pecker, Albie tried to fathom a way out of the difficult situation. Judy’s brother was a handy bastard and at his age, Albie was no match for an up-and-coming wide-boy like Johnny Preston. Vinny and Roy were though. They could more than hold their own against anybody.
Albie sighed worriedly. Judy needed the frighteners put on her to force her to get rid of the child and if admitting his sins to his two eldest sons was the only way to make that happen, then admit his sins he would. They weren’t going to be best pleased, especially Vinny, who had threatened him over his wandering eye in the past. But what choice did Albie have? None.
Finishing his pint, he stood up and nervously made his way towards the snooker club. His boys would have to help him in his hour of need, wouldn’t they? He might have fucked up big time, but he was still their bloody father.
Queenie Butler took the birthday cake out of the oven and grinned at her sister. ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘Ah, it’s beautiful, Queenie. Best cake I’ve seen in years,’ Vivian replied, truthfully.
‘Can I have some?’ little Brenda asked.
‘No, sweetheart. We can’t cut it up until tomorrow, otherwise Michael won’t see the beauty of it,’ Queenie replied.
‘Awww,’ Brenda whined.
Queenie stared at her offspring. Brenda was eleven now and could be an obstinate little mare at times. Unlike the boys who favoured their father with their black hair and chiselled features, Brenda looked more like her side of the family. Her hair was mousy brown, the same as Queenie’s and Viv’s natural colour, and she was a skinny little thing even though she had the appetite of a horse.
‘Please, Mum?’ Brenda tried again.
Vivian laughed. ‘You help me carry the cake to my house so our Michael don’t see it and I’ll give you a nice iced bun. Deal?’
Queenie smiled when Vivian and Brenda left the house. Family was the most important thing in the world and she loved hers with a passion. Albie was a tosspot, she knew that, but he had given her four beautiful children, for which she would always be grateful to him. She didn’t love or respect him any more. What woman could love and respect a bone-idle drunk? But he never pestered her for sex these days and even if he did, she would never leave him. He was the father of her children and for that reason alone, she would always see it as her duty to suffer him.
‘Oh, I do love being two doors away now, Queenie. It feels like we live together, don’t it?’ Vivian said, letting herself back in with her own key.
Queenie laughed. It was her Vinny who had secured Vivian the council house next door but one. It had become available a few months back when old Ada had passed away and Vinny had offered the man at the council a backhander to ensure it went to Viv. He had bragged when he had come home that the man was so petrified, he had refused to take the money, but had given Vinny the keys anyway. ‘My reputation precedes me once again, Mum,’ Vinny had chuckled.
‘Is that my little soldier I hear coming down them stairs?’ Vivian said, when she heard Lenny’s familiar flat-footed walk. He had been tired earlier, so had gone for a lie-down on Queenie’s bed.
‘Can I watch Mr Ed?’ Lenny asked excitedly. The programme featuring the talking horse was his current favourite. Before that, it had been Flipper.
‘Yep, course you can,’ Queenie replied. Both she and Vivian now had posh TVs. They had been Christmas presents last year from the boys.
‘I love Mr Ed too,’ Brenda said, following her cousin into the lounge.
Queenie locked eyes with her sister. ‘Ain’t we lucky with our little lot, eh? I know we’ve had hard times, but kids don’t come no better than ours, you know,’ Queenie said contentedly.
Vivian grinned. ‘We’re blessed, Queenie. Truly blessed.’
After George had left earlier, Vinny had spent the rest of the afternoon shagging his prettiest stripper, Karen. Unlike his brothers, who were both girl-mad, birds didn’t bother Vinny as a rule, neither did sex.
Apart from his mother and aunt, Vinny was no big fan of women in general. He found girls his age silly and annoying, so why he had bothered ramming himself inside Karen again, who was already asking him questions such as ‘Am I your girlfriend now?’ He did not know.
Vinny got out of bed and quickly got dressed. He had only ever had one proper girlfriend in his life and the slag had broken his heart. Fifteen, Vinny had been when he’d first set eyes on Yvonne Summers. She was two years older than him, but the age gap hadn’t mattered as he was very mature for his age. To say he had treated Yvonne like a princess was putting it mildly. Even back then, he knew how to earn a bob or two and he was forever taking her to the pictures and buying her nice presents. Had she appreciated his adoration and kindness? No. The whore had two-timed him, then run off with a lad five years his senior. Rumour had it, she’d moved to Leeds.
Vinny had been distraught at the time and didn’t know how he would have got over it if it wasn’t for his mother. She had held his sobbing body, wiped away his tears and made him feel worthy once again.
‘So, am I your girlfriend now?’ Karen repeated, desperation in her voice.
The doorbell saved Vinny from insulting her. ‘Get dressed and go out the back way. I’ve got business to deal with,’ he said, coldly.
Wondering if George had come back to try to extract even more money, Vinny took the stairs two by two. He flung open the big metal door only to see his father standing there with a sheepish expression on his face. ‘What do you want?’ Vinny asked, unable to hide the bitterness. He didn’t want to let on to his dad he knew about Judy Preston before tomorrow. He wanted to watch him squirm when he announced his infidelity at the restaurant in front of his mother.
Unable to look his son in the eyes, Albie stared at his shoes. ‘I’ve got a bit of a problem and I really need your help,’ he mumbled.
‘What do you want? Beer or Scotch?’ Vinny asked, leading him into the club.
‘Scotch please, son.’
Vinny poured two large Scotches on the rocks, then sat down at a nearby table. ‘Fire away then.’
With his hands clasped together, Albie twiddled his thumbs. There was no sign of Roy which was a shame as Roy had a lesser temper on him than Vinny. He also had a more understanding nature.
‘Where’s Roy?’ Albie asked.
‘Gone to collect Michael’s moped.’
Albie stared at his hands. There was no easy way of saying what he had to say, but he wanted to find the right words. ‘I’ve got meself in a bit of a pickle, boy. I know I promised you I would never stray again, but I had this bird come on to me. Only young, she is, and being a weak man, I was flattered if you know what I mean?’
‘Oh, I know what you mean all right. And I know who the tart is. You’ve been shafting Judy