‘Don’t you dare call your brother a lunatic. And where do you think you’re going?’ Queenie shouted, when her son leapt out of his chair and put his parka back on.
‘Out with Kev on me bike. It’s the only time I get any peace and quiet,’ Michael yelled, slamming the front door.
Vivian raised her eyebrows and smiled at her sister. ‘Boys, eh? Who’d have ’em?’
Over at the café, young Christopher Walker was bored out of his brains and in desperate need of excitement. ‘Please come out and play, Nancy? I really want to know if that man is dead or not, don’t you? The police might be at the snooker club and if we walk past we might be able to see them and we can find out exactly what happened to him.’
Nancy immediately shook her head. She had been petrified yesterday when the fight had broken out at Brenda’s mum’s party, and the sight of that poor man lying on the pavement covered in blood would probably stick in her mind for life. ‘No, Christopher! I am never ever going near that club again, and neither should you.’
Christopher put on his coat and ran down the stairs. There was no way his parents would let him play out on his own after what had happened yesterday, so he would have to pretend that he was popping round to see Tommy. Surely he could get away with telling one little white lie, couldn’t he?
‘You can visit Tommy, but I want you back by five. And don’t you dare go near that club again, Christopher,’ Donald warned his son.
Albie Butler was shocked to see the state of Kenny Jackson. Both men frequented the Blind Beggar pub, but rarely drank in the same company. ‘Jesus wept! What happened to you, Ken?’
Ordering Sheila to leave them alone and come back in ten minutes, Kenny couldn’t keep the sneer off his battered face as he turned back to Albie. His injuries included concussion, a fractured wrist, broken nose, and he felt and looked as though he had spent ten rounds in the ring with Henry Cooper. ‘I had a fucking run-in with your psycho of a son, that’s what,’ Kenny wheezed.
Albie felt his pulse start to quicken. He had always been a bit wary of Kenny Jackson. He’d seen him do a bloke with a hammer in the Blind Beggar a few years back, and had always given him a wide berth since then. ‘I’m sorry, Kenny, I really am.’ Albie didn’t have to ask which son had beaten the living daylights out of Kenny.
‘You’re sorry! Is that all you’ve got to say? That boy needs taking down a peg or two, Albie. Everybody knows it was your Vinny who put you in here. I mean, what type of boy does that to his own father, eh? The kid’s a fucking animal to do this to me in front of my wife. Us men don’t involve our women in such spats, you know that.’
Mortified that people knew that his own son was responsible for his broken legs and ribs, Albie bowed his head in shame. ‘I dunno what to say to you, Kenny. There is nothing I can do to help your predicament. The only thing I can suggest is you accept the beating and swallow your pride. Vinny has no respect for me. He has never listened to a word I say.’
Old Mr Perry smirked as he listened to the conversation going on a few feet away from him. He had been so bored cooped up in a hospital bed after his bowel cancer operation, but since Albie had arrived, the pure entertainment had lifted Mr Perry’s spirits no end.
Christopher Walker felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sat down on the step in the doorway opposite the snooker club. Popping a sherbert lemon into his mouth, the boy looked to his right. His mum had said that Mad Freda lived near the club and he wondered which house it was. About to turn back, Christopher noticed the white Triumph Herald convertible parked up. He could vaguely make out the silhouettes of what looked like two men sitting inside the car, and he wondered if they were friends of Vinny’s or undercover policemen.
Taking his sweet out of his mouth to see how much longer he had to suck to reach the sherbet, Christopher thought back to the events of yesterday. When the fight had first broken out, he had been just as scared as his sister. But after he had got back to the safety of his parents’ café, Christopher couldn’t stop thinking about what he had seen. He had found the whole experience exhilarating, and he now couldn’t wait until he was old enough to join the police force, so he could investigate people being beaten up and murdered.
Feeling his heart start to beat faster when the door of the club swung open, Christopher was disappointed to see Roy come out alone. Christopher had never really spoken to Roy like he had Vinny, and even though he was dying to know if the man who had taken a beating had croaked it, he decided to hold his tongue until Vinny appeared.
A couple of minutes after Roy walked around the corner, Christopher heard a car door slam, glanced to his right, and saw the two men get out of the Triumph Herald. When they walked up to the door of the club, and rang the bell, Christopher ducked his head in the hope they wouldn’t notice him. Vinny’s car was parked outside the door of the club and as long as he stayed crouched down, Christopher guessed the men wouldn’t be able to see him. Unfortunately for him though, he had already been spotted. The woman whom he and his parents referred to as Mad Freda had been glued to her window for the past fifteen minutes.
Vinny Butler was alone in the club when the doorbell rang. ‘Who is it?’ he shouted, his hand on the bolt, ready to open the door.
Having watched the club since seven a.m. that morning, Johnny Preston knew that he had finally got Vinny alone. He had seen Michael arrive and leave earlier, and Roy had left just a few minutes ago. ‘It’s Judy Preston’s brother, Johnny. Can we have a quiet word, please?’
Vinny smirked and checked he had his knife in his pocket. He had been expecting a visit from Johnny Preston ever since paying Judy a visit, but he hadn’t quite expected him to turn up on a Sunday afternoon. ‘Too scared to come on your own, was you?’ Vinny asked sarcastically, when he swung the door open and saw that Johnny had a pal with him.
Johnny immediately felt his hackles start to rise. ‘Dave’s my partner. He goes everywhere with me, a bit like your brother Roy does with you.’
Vinny stepped outside the club and slammed the metal door. He wasn’t stupid. Johnny and his muggy sidekick might be tooled up for all he knew. ‘Spit it out then? I ain’t got all day,’ he said.
Johnny Preston and Dave Phillips glanced at one another. Neither had ever been this close to Vinny Butler before and both were thinking the self-same thing. Vinny was exactly as the rumour mill described him. He looked like he had a bit of Italian in him. His eyes were deadly cold, and his attitude was as cocksure as they came.
Johnny suddenly felt extremely wary, but he’d come this far and there was no going back now. It was only the other evening that he and Dave had been bragging to Mad Frankie Fraser in a South London boozer that he was going to confront Vinny Butler so, like it or not, he now had to do so. ‘You owe my sister an apology, Vinny. Who do you think you are, eh? Going round her gaff and threatening her in front of her young son? You’re bang out of order and I ain’t fucking putting up with it. Judy is keeping her baby and that is final,’ Johnny said, sounding much more confident than he actually felt.
Vinny was very good at staring at people for long spells without blinking, and he had never met a man yet in his life who could hold his gaze. When Johnny dropped his eyes, Vinny grabbed him by the neck and smashed his head as hard as he could against the metal door. ‘Your slag of a sister will get rid of that kid whether you like it or not. I’ll kick it out of her personally, if I have to. Now go crawl back under your rock and tell that whore you’re related to that I’ll be round next week to check she’s un-pregnanted her fucking self.’
When Dave punched Vinny in the side of the head, Christopher Walker stood up to get a better view.
‘Silly move, you dumb cunt,’ Christopher heard Vinny say. He then saw Vinny repeatedly punch the man in the stomach, with what looked to be a knife.
When Johnny Preston saw his pal lying lifeless