‘Help me, Roy. Please help me,’ Albie begged.
Ordering his brother to phone an ambulance, Vinny crouched down next to his father. ‘You got jumped by four lads outside the club who were after this, OK?’ Vinny said, taking the wallet out of his father’s pocket and putting it in his own.
In terrible pain, Albie started to cry. ‘I know I deserved a clump, but I can’t believe you broke my leg. How any lad could do that to his own flesh and blood is beyond me.’
‘You just wanna be grateful that I never broke your fucking neck. If the Old Bill question you, you say I heard a commotion, came outside, the boys had already legged it, and I dragged you in here, OK? Then in return, I’ll make sure Mum don’t find out your dirty little secret.’
‘You’re not a nice person, Vinny. You are one callous bastard,’ Albie spat.
‘And you are a dirty old pervert. Now, do we have a deal or not?’
Knowing that he had no option other than to agree with his violent offspring, Albie nodded his battered head.
Queenie was dishing up the sausages and bubble and squeak when Vinny and Roy let themselves into the house. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, putting her spatula on the worktop. Both of her sons looked ashen-faced and serious.
‘Look, don’t panic ’cause he is gonna be OK, but Dad got jumped outside the club by a gang of lads. They took off with his wallet,’ Vinny explained.
‘Well, I bet there weren’t much in that,’ Vivian mumbled, unfeelingly. She was no fan of Albie Butler and felt her sister could have done much better.
‘Is he OK? Where is he now?’ Queenie asked, her face etched with concern.
‘At the hospital. The ambulance man said they thought both his legs might be broken,’ Roy replied, feeling awkward.
‘Gordon Bennett! What is the world coming to if men like your dad are getting mugged? You better take me to him now,’ Queenie ordered.
‘Eat your dinner first, Mum, then Roy will take you up there,’ Vinny replied.
‘Ain’t you coming as well?’ Queenie asked, surprised.
Not wanting to be anywhere near his arsehole of a father, Vinny shook his head. ‘Roy’ll look after you, Mum. Someone has to be at the club, don’t they?’
Queenie eyed her eldest child with suspicion, but said nothing. Both Vinny and Roy had virtually blanked Albie during dinner the other day and Queenie wasn’t stupid. She could tell Vinny had fallen out with his father. Now all she had to do was find out why.
Humming along to Petula Clark’s ‘Downtown’, Mary smiled as the woman she and Donald had nicknamed Mad Freda approached the counter. ‘Hello. What can I get you?’ This was the first time Freda had visited the café since the day she had knocked at the door to warn them about the Butler family.
‘Mug of tea and a piece of that fruit cake, please. So, how’s it going?’ Freda enquired.
‘Ever so well, thanks. Donald and I have been run off our feet again today.’
‘Met the Butlers yet?’ Freda asked.
‘Two ladies who came in the other day introduced themselves by that name, but they were lovely, ever so polite,’ Mary replied, desperate to avoid getting involved with tittle-tattle.
‘Huh. Brady and Hindley was probably lovely and polite people too,’ Freda said sarcastically, referring to the couple who had recently been arrested for murdering children on the moors.
Thankful when Freda plonked herself at a table over by the door, Mary called her son over to the counter. Unlike his sister, who had been helping Donald in the kitchen all day, Christopher had done nothing but sit on his backside and read his Roy of the Rovers comics.
‘Two burgers and chips,’ Donald shouted out.
‘Get the plates off your dad and take them over to that table next to the jukebox, Christopher,’ Mary ordered her son.
Christopher stood transfixed to the spot with his mouth wide open. The rich-looking man with the posh Jaguar car who he had seen punching the wall earlier had just walked into the café.
Albie Butler felt terribly sorry for himself as he lay flat on the hospital bed with both legs up in traction.
‘Jesus, Albie. Whatever happened, eh?’ Queenie asked, marching into the ward with Vivian behind her.
‘Got jumped by a gang of lads for me wallet,’ Albie mumbled.
‘Why ever did they jump you? Everyone who knows you is aware you ain’t got a pot to piss in,’ Vivian replied, her voice as cold as ice.
Albie glared at his wife’s sister and, instead of calling her a fucking old trout like he wanted to, managed to bite his tongue.
‘I bought you some pyjamas up, and made you a ham sandwich,’ Queenie said, plonking a carrier bag on the bed next to her husband.
‘I can’t get pyjama bottoms over the plaster and I can’t eat nothing. I’m in too much pain. A small bottle of brandy wouldn’t have gone amiss though,’ Albie muttered miserably.
‘Ungrateful old bastard,’ Vivian mumbled under her breath.
‘I’ve just spoken to the doctor. They reckon you’ll be in here for a while, you know,’ Queenie informed her old man.
‘Thanks very much. Cheer me up, why don’t ya?’
‘So, what exactly happened? Have you spoken to the Old Bill yet?’ Queenie asked.
‘Yeah. Not much I could tell ’em. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t get a clear view of any of the lads. Where’s Vinny and Roy?’
‘Roy and Michael are waiting in the corridor. The nurse said we could only come in two at a time, so I’ll send them in next. You had a fall-out with our Vinny and Roy?’
‘No. What makes you ask that?’ Albie asked defensively.
‘Because I’ve sensed a bad atmosphere the past few days. What’s going on, Albie? I ain’t some silly old fool, you know, and I will find out, so you might as well tell me now. What you done to upset them?’
Albie looked at his wife with pure hatred in his eyes. Here he was, with two broken legs and three broken ribs, confined to a stinking hospital bed for Christ knows how long, and instead of concern, all Queenie was worried about was her precious sons. Was it any wonder he strayed at the drop of a hat?’ I ain’t done anything to upset the boys, OK? Now, please go and get me a bottle of brandy to help me with the pain. Killing me, my ribs are. I would give you the money, but the bastards who attacked me nicked me wallet.’
‘The doctor said you were on strong painkillers. You ain’t meant to drink with them, Albie. You might keel over and die in the night,’ Queenie advised him.
Hoping that her sister’s warning just might come true, Vivian put her hand inside her handbag. ‘Poor sod’s been right through the mill. I’ll treat him to a bottle.’
Knowing full well why Vivian had made such a kind gesture, Queenie had a fake coughing fit, then dashed out of the ward before Albie could realize she was laughing.
Little Christopher Walker was mesmerized by the dark-haired man in the charcoal suit.
‘Stop gawping at people. Go and collect any empty plates and cups,’ Mary hissed in her son’s ear.
Another person who had her beady eyes on Vinny was Freda Smart and when Christopher approached her, she couldn’t help but speak her mind. ‘Should be strung up by the