‘Will all my friends be there yet?’ Little Vinny asked his father as they drove towards Queenie’s house. He had already received some great presents. His dad had bought him a bike, a Hornby train set, and an Airfix Spitfire, and his Uncle Michael had given him some Stickle Bricks and a Meccano set.
‘No. Your party don’t start till one and it’s only twelve,’ Vinny explained, glancing at Michael. His brother was sitting in the passenger seat staring out of the window like a zombie. ‘What the fuck’s up with you? You were acting really weird last night.’
Michael shook his head as if to try to wake himself up. Over the years he had dated more girls than Vinny and Roy put together, but not one had ever had the effect on him that Nancy Walker seemed to be having. His mum and aunt often joked he should be called Alfie, after the playboy in the Michael Caine film, such was his thirst for pretty girls, but since meeting Nancy yesterday, Michael could think of little else. ‘Sorry I’ve been a bit distant, but I can’t stop thinking about someone I bumped into. Do you remember the girl whose parents ran Old Jack’s café for a while before it was turned into a butcher’s shop?’
‘Yeah, ’course I do. It was her little brother who lied to the Old Bill for me,’ Vinny chuckled.
‘Well, that’s the girl I met at the fair yesterday. Her name’s Nancy and she has to be the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.’
Vinny looked at his brother in pure disgust. ‘Fuck me, you are making me want to vomit. Don’t be getting involved with her. Her father was a right sanctimonious bastard, and I don’t fancy opening up a can of worms over the Phillips you-know-what. You ain’t arranged to take her out, have ya? I thought you were still shafting that Denise bird?’
‘What’s you-know-what mean, Dad?’ Little Vinny asked curiously.
‘Not now, son. I’m talking to your Uncle Michael.’
‘Me and Denise have done nothing but argue for the past month, Vin. She keeps talking about marriage and babies and I’m gonna have to end it with her. I’m just not that into her.’
‘So, have you asked this Nancy out?’ Vinny asked, as he parked the car outside his mother’s house.
‘Well, not exactly. But, I did invite her and her mate to come to the club on Friday night,’ Michael replied, rather sheepishly.
‘You did what? That Nancy was roughly the same age as our Brenda. We run a nightclub, not a fucking playgroup, Michael. Anyway, as I’ve already told you, I don’t want you having nothing to do with that family. Talk about open up old wounds.’
Michael said nothing. Nancy had told him that she worked in Woolworth’s in Ilford, so he would pop in there and speak to her. Vinny might be able to stop Nancy from coming to the club, but he couldn’t stop him from taking her out somewhere else. Michael didn’t usually dare disobey Vinny’s orders, but there was something so special about Nancy that for once ignoring his brother’s instructions seemed like a risk worth taking.
Over in Ilford, Donald turned the open sign to ‘closed’ on his shop door and breathed a sigh of relief. Sunday was the only day he and Mary closed early, and now Nancy was working full-time in Woolworth’s, Sunday afternoons were the only quality time they got to spend together as a family. Today, Donald had invited his and Mary’s friends, Derrick and Margaret Robins, over for a traditional roast dinner. Young Roger would be accompanying his parents and Donald hoped that today would be the day when his stubborn daughter would finally see sense.
Nancy’s favourite TV programme was Top of the Pops and Donald had quietly suggested weeks ago to Roger that he should apply for tickets. Going to watch some of her favourite pop stars appear live was much more Nancy’s cup of tea than going dancing or to the pictures, and Roger receiving the tickets this week had worked out very well because Nancy’s all-time idol was currently at number one in the charts, which meant he would definitely be performing on the show. Donald grinned as he took the stairs two by two. There was no way Nancy would refuse a date with Roger if it meant her being able to see Marc Bolan up close, so his plan had worked out perfectly. Donald patted himself mentally on the back. He was such a clever man at times. He really was.
Little Vinny’s party wasn’t going quite to plan. ‘Where are all my other mates, Dad? Why ain’t they come yet?’ the boy asked, a sad expression on his face.
Absolutely gutted that his pride and joy was upset on his birthday, Vinny hugged his son tightly to his chest. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, boy,’ he said, seething inside. He had no idea why only fifteen of Little Vinny’s friends had turned up, but when he saw the fathers of the other fifteen who had failed to show, Vinny would make the bastards pay.
Another two people currently discussing why only half of Little Vinny’s mates had turned up were Queenie and Vivian. ‘I reckon there’s been a bug going around his school or something,’ Queenie said, trying to make some sense out of the awkward situation. It would never have occurred to her that people might not want their children mixing with her notorious family, as she only saw her brood as perfect.
‘Lenny, come over here now. You’re too old to play musical chairs. You’ll squash all the children,’ Vivian shouted out.
Realizing that Lenny looked near to tears, Vinny walked over to him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a special job for you, Champ. I want you to be the DJ and stop the music. Can you do that for me?’
‘Yeah, ’course I can,’ Lenny replied, his eyes lighting up with excitement. His life’s ambition was to become a DJ, such was his love for music.
‘Your Vinny is just so good with Lenny, ain’t he, Queen? He has far more tolerance with him than I seem to have lately. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits, but he do drive me mad at times,’ Vivian confessed.
‘So, where’s Roy and Brenda?’ Michael asked, plonking himself on a chair next to his mum.
‘Roy rang up this morning, said he’ll be here by two, and Brenda stormed out with her suitcase earlier. Leaving home again, she reckons.’
Vivian chuckled. ‘Do you remember the last time Bren packed her case and left? She was back by bleedin’ teatime.’
Queenie raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement. ‘So, how did you get on at the fair yesterday? Was you there when Vinny and Bren started arguing?’ Queenie asked Michael. Then, noticing the blush on her youngest son’s cheeks and the twinkle in his eye, she changed tack. ‘Alfie strikes again! Come on then, who is she?’
About to tell his mum about meeting up with Nancy, Michael was interrupted by a scream and a thud.
‘Oh my gawd! You all right, love? What happened?’ Queenie asked, rushing to the aid of the child who had fallen and cut his head open on the hearth that surrounded her fireplace.
‘It was Vinny. He pushed Jacob over so he could sit on the chair first,’ a little blonde girl informed Queenie.
‘No, I didn’t. You’re a lying grass,’ Little Vinny replied, glaring at the girl.
Worried that her grandson was about to lunge at his little guest, Queenie grabbed him by his arms so he was facing her. ‘Now, tell Nanny the truth. Did you push that boy over?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘Yes you did,’ the injured little boy said, holding his bloodied head in his hands.
Michael and Vinny glanced at one another. Both were aware that apart from some of the children playing musical chairs, they were the only two people in the room who had clocked what had happened. Even when the injured child started crying for his mother, both Michael and Vinny kept schtum. They were Butlers through and through and snitching on their own was totally out of the question.
Realizing