Vinny took a sip of his drink. ‘No. She ain’t worth a wank, Michael. However, I would still like to set the fat cunt on fire and watch her go up in flames.’
Queenie and Vivian were both hard at it in Queenie’s new kitchen. All the neighbours were bringing food for tomorrow’s street party, but being the type of women they were, both sisters were determined that their input into the occasion would beat any other.
‘Well? What do you think? Ain’t lost me touch, have I?’ Vivian asked, as she showed Queenie her tray of homemade Cornish pasties.
‘Oh, Vivvy, they look handsome, girl. Look at the gloss on that pastry. Do you know what, I’m amazed they didn’t let you help out with the cooking in that loony bin. You could have taught that mob a thing or two.’
Vivian chuckled. The pair of them had been sipping sherry while they worked, and with Mrs Mills on in the background it was just like old times. ‘I offered once, but the nurse looked at me in horror. I think she thought I was going to shove my head in the oven and gas meself.’
‘Well, don’t forget I told all the neighbours you’ve been recuperating in the country. Them nosy load of bastards will be prying tomorrow, you can bet your life,’ Queenie warned her sister.
Vivian smiled. It had hit her like a ton of bricks, walking into her own home without her Lenny being there to greet her, but she hadn’t wanted to show it. She might cry a few tears when she climbed into bed tonight, but she was determined not to wallow in grief again. Her Lenny had gone for good, and however many tears she cried he wasn’t coming back. If being institutionalized had taught her one thing, it was that. ‘Sod the neighbours, Queen. I couldn’t give a shit what they think. Now, turn Mrs Mills up and let’s have a singalong.’
Vinny and Michael were still having a brotherly heart-to-heart when the phone rang. ‘I’ll get it. You can bet your life it’s Nancy,’ Michael stated.
‘If it’s Ahmed, I ain’t here, bruv,’ Vinny said.
‘What’s going on, Vin? That’s the third time in the last two days you’ve made me tell Ahmed that you ain’t around. I’m not stupid, so please don’t lie to me. Have you got yourself involved in the drug game with him?’ Michael asked, when he sat back down. He knew Vinny wasn’t snorting any more. He could see it in his eyes and hear it in his speech, but he wouldn’t put it past his brother to deal in the stuff. Vinny was a greedy git when it came to money. Always had been, and always would be.
Knowing he’d have to come clean to a certain extent, Vinny told him, ‘It’s not drugs, Michael. There’s a business deal he wants to involve me in and I’m not sure about it.’
‘What sort of deal?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious, just a bit of a gamble. And there is a lot of dosh involved.’
‘Do you want my honest opinion?’
Vinny nodded.
‘If you think Ahmed has forgiven you for that accident, then you must be mad. I can see the truth in his eyes. I reckon he’s trying to rip you off, and if I was you I wouldn’t trust the Turkish cunt as far as I could throw him.’
Vinny took a swig of his drink. Before the accident, he had trusted Ahmed like a brother, but intuition told him that Michael might be right. Scraping together over a million in cash was a difficult enough task, but parting with it was even harder.
‘Where you going?’ Michael asked when Vinny stood up.
‘I’m going to ring Ahmed. If he thinks he can get one over on me, then he’s picked on the wrong fucking person.’
The two figures put the hoods up on their matching Adidas jackets and giggled as they approached Vinny Butler’s house. Both were in high spirits, thanks to the bottle of cider they had just polished off.
Seeing a woman in a hairnet walking towards them pulling a shopping trolley behind her, the boy grabbed his older accomplice’s arm and gesticulated for him to sit on the kerb alongside him.
When the woman passed without even glancing in their direction, the boy stood up. Satisfied that the coast was now clear, he held out his right hand. ‘Give it to me. I want to do it.’
The boy’s accomplice shook his head. ‘No. This was my idea and I can throw further than you.’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘Give it to me.’
Ignoring the boy’s wishes, the older lad ran towards Vinny’s house and hurled the brick straight through the downstairs window.
At the sound of the blood-curdling scream from inside the house, both boys then ran for their lives.
Queenie and Vivian were both cooing over baby Tommy when the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ Brenda said. Having moved back home two days ago, she already hated living in the house without Dean. She was hoping that, if she made herself useful, her mother would let her and the kids stay at her place for a while.
‘I am so sorry for bothering you, but I didn’t know where else to go. Somebody threw a brick through the lounge window and it nearly hit Molly,’ Joanna gabbled when the door was flung open. She’d been in such a rush to leave the house, she’d carried her daughter in her arms.
Overhearing the conversation, Queenie darted into the hallway. Lots of women would never have forgiven their son for taking up with the daughter of a man who had virtually ended the life of one of their other sons, but Queenie was different to those shallow people. She trusted her first-born implicitly and if Joanna made him happy, then it made her happy too. ‘Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?’
Joanna explained once again. ‘I tried to get hold of Vinny, but he’s not at the club,’ she wept.
Queenie led Joanna into the lounge. ‘Now you sit down, with Molly, my angel. Brenda will make you a nice sweet cup of tea and I’ll ring around and see if I can track Vinny down.’
Vinny Butler rammed his rather large penis up the blonde bird’s backside and grinned as Ahmed did the same to the black girl. He and Ahmed had often joked in the past that they had bonded as friends because they shared the same sadistic nature and warped sense of humour, and Vinny was pleased that their friendship seemed to be on track once again.
When Molly had been born and he had first held her in his arms, Vinny had made a mental pact with himself to give up the whorehouses for good. Abusing females in the sometimes violent manner that he had become accustomed to did not seem morally right now he had a daughter himself. However, after Ahmed had so gracefully accepted his decision and his reluctance to part with such a massive amount of money, Vinny had felt unable to say no to his suggestion that they have a night out, like old times.
‘Please do not squeeze my throat. You are hurting me,’ the blonde croaked.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Vinny hissed, squeezing the girl’s throat even harder. He got off on inflicting pain and terror; had done since the day he beat a lad senseless in the school playground at the tender age of eight.
Vinny shut his eyes and thought of how Yvonne Summers used to look, upping the speed of his thrusts as he did so. When his orgasm arrived, it was a belter. But as soon as it was over, Vinny thought of his daughter, leapt off the bed and got dressed. ‘I’ll wait for you outside. It’s stuffy in here,’ he told Ahmed.
When Ahmed emerged minutes later, he asked Vinny why he had left so swiftly.
Not wanting to sound like a numpty by admitting that having a daughter had put him off whores, Vinny shrugged. ‘I was just hot. Come on, I need a drink.’
The two of them stepped