The only people in his family that Albie still harboured a grudge against were Queenie and that old bat of a sister of hers. Between them, they had slowly pushed him out of the family circle. Then, by bringing the boys up in the way they had, they had created a monstrosity.
‘So, where is the cancer, Albie? Has it spread all over, like?’ Big Stan asked, snapping Albie out of his daydream.
‘Don’t know yet. It’s in me stomach somewhere and I’ve got to have more tests done next week,’ Albie replied.
‘Such a shame, mate. I thought you looked ill when I saw you. Didn’t even recognize you at first.’
Thinking what a cheerful bastard Stan was, and wishing he would sod off so he could work out the horses for his accumulator, Albie picked up his empty pint glass. ‘I would offer to buy you a drink, mate, but money’s a bit tight at the moment, if you know what I mean? I’ve been that ill, I haven’t grafted for ages.’
‘You sit yourself back down, Albie. The drinks are on me, mate. ’Ere, put that in your pocket as well,’ Stan said, chucking a screwed-up five-pound note on the table.
When Big Stan went up the bar to get the drinks, Albie couldn’t help but smirk. Being on death’s door certainly had its advantages.
Queenie was mopping the kitchen floor when Michael let himself into her house. All her boys still had their own keys, and came and went as they pleased.
‘Hello, son. You spoke to your brothers yet? Have they told you the news?’
When he shook his head, Queenie made a brew, sat Michael down, then explained all about Brenda’s pregnancy, and what the family had decided to do about it.
Michael listened attentively, then surprised Queenie by agreeing with Vinny’s idea.
‘Well, Roy and Vivvy don’t agree. They both think we shouldn’t have a Smart in the family. Viv even suggested she had an abortion. I won’t allow that, Michael. Whether that child is a Smart or not, it’s still my grandchild.’
‘I’ll go with Vinny to speak to Dean Smart. Mum, can I ask you for a favour?’
‘Of course. What is it, Michael?’
‘I want you to speak to my dad, and permit me to do the same. You don’t have to truly forgive him in your heart, just be polite if you can. He’s a prick, I know that, but whatever he is, he’s still part of me, my brothers and Bren. If he weren’t dying, I wouldn’t ask you to do this for me.’
Thinking how mature her Michael had become all of a sudden, Queenie gave him a motherly hug. She would do anything to make her boys happy, absolutely anything. ‘All right, we’ll both see the old bastard together and I promise I will be as polite as I can, OK?’
Michael smiled broadly. ‘Thanks, Mum. You’re a real star.’
Dean Smart and his pals drank in the Black Horse in the Mile End Road, and when Vinny and Michael Butler walked in, the pub immediately fell so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
Dean wasn’t a scaredy-cat by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing the menacing look on Vinny and Michael’s faces, he could have kicked himself for ever getting involved with Brenda Butler.
It was Michael that finally ended the awkward silence. ‘We need a quiet word with you,’ he said, gesticulating towards the door.
Feeling more nervous than he ever had during the robberies he had pulled off, Dean followed the Butler brothers outside the pub. ‘Look, if this is about Brenda, we finished on good terms. I do have another girlfriend now, but I swear I weren’t seeing her when I was seeing Bren,’ Dean gabbled.
‘No! I think you meant to say that you used to have another girlfriend,’ Michael said, pushing Dean against a nearby wall.
‘Look, I’m sorry about dating your sister, but I really did like her. I only ended it because I was frightened of your family and my family finding out. I didn’t want it to cause World War Three. I would have stayed with Bren other than that, I swear I would,’ Dean stated.
‘Well, that’s nice to hear, isn’t it, Michael?’ Vinny said, grinning at his brother.
‘Yep, sure is,’ Michael replied in an equally jovial tone. He was thoroughly enjoying watching Dean Smart squirm. Served the little bastard right for taking such liberties.
‘What you doing? I swear I won’t go near Brenda again. On my nan’s life I won’t,’ Dean croaked, when Vinny grabbed him around the neck and began squeezing his windpipe.
Unable to stop himself from giving Dean the knee of all knees in the bollocks, Vinny said what he had come here to say. ‘You will go near my sister again, boy. Dipping your wick without protection has now mapped your life out for you, unfortunately. I will arrange the wedding a.s.a.p., and you will be a good husband to my sister and an even better father to your unborn child. Now, do we understand one another?’
Learning that he was about to become not only a father but also a husband was all too much for young Dean to take in and when Vinny let go of his throat, he slid down the wall and slumped onto the pavement.
‘Well, answer my brother, then,’ Michael ordered, giving Dean a sharp kick in the ribs.
Dean knew when he was beaten. His dad was a wannabe gangster, but had never achieved much in his life, and seeing as he was the only boy in the family, he had no proper back-up. When Vinny grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to his feet again, Dean held his palms upright as if to surrender his fate. ‘I understand, OK?’
Smirking, Vinny ruffled the boy’s long hair. ‘Sensible lad you are, Dean. Now, let’s have a proper family discussion about the wedding tomorrow, eh? Meet us round my mother’s house about twoish.’
Wanting to cry, Dean took a deep breath and instead nodded miserably.
‘And try and put a smile on your face before you arrive. Our Brenda won’t wanna see you with a face like your cat’s just been run over by a bus,’ Michael added.
Vinny chuckled. Michael had excelled himself in his eyes today, and he was dead proud of his little brother’s wit and attitude. Vinny unlocked the car door, then took one last look at Dean’s shell-shocked face. ‘Oh, and Dean, I need you to do one more thing for me.’
‘What?’
‘Get that fucking hair cut before you meet your future mother-in-law. You wanna make a good impression, don’t you now?’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brenda was lying in bed feeling dreadfully sorry for herself when her mother traipsed in with a tray. On it was a boiled egg, toast, and a steaming mug of tea. ‘Now, get this down your neck. I’m not having no grandchild of mine being born malnourished.’
Brenda sat up. ‘I’m not even sure I’m keeping the baby yet, Mum. I don’t think I’m old enough to cope with a kid.’
‘If you’re old enough to drop your drawers and get yourself up the duff in the first place, then you’re old enough to be a good mother. And don’t you dare even think about getting rid of that child. The family have made a decision. You’re having it, and that’s that.’
‘You haven’t told my brothers, have you?’ Brenda asked, alarmed. She knew they’d been at the house yesterday because she had heard all three of their voices, but she had surmised they were there discussing her father.
‘Well, of course I’ve told them. You’ll be as fat as a bull soon. Hardly something we can disguise, is it? You daft apeth.’
When her daughter leapt out of bed and began to get dressed, Queenie