‘What?’ Harry asked.
‘That you be nice to Brett in future. And don’t lie and say you are nice to him, because I’ve seen you do stuff with my own eyes. Have we got a deal?’
Georgie and Harry reluctantly nodded.
‘One hour you can go out for and if you’re not back, I’m calling the police,’ Frankie warned. Her stomach was in knots, but what could she do? She was sick of living in a virtual prison, and Georgie and Harry needed to start mixing with other kids at some stage. Apart from Harry pushing Jock in the swimming pool, they’d behaved themselves impeccably yesterday and today.
‘Just going to the toilet,’ Calum said.
‘Are we coming back?’ Harry whispered to Georgie.
‘Of course, you dinlo. And we’re gonna keep coming back until Mum really trusts us and allows us to go out for a whole day – that’s when we’ll escape for good. And Calum is gonna help us.’
‘Is he?’
‘Shush. He don’t know it yet. But yes, he will. I’ll make damn bloody sure of it.’
The hand-delivered package was lying on the doorstep of the casino.
‘You expecting a parcel, love?’ Queenie asked her son.
The handwriting on the label was the same as the previous package. Capital letters in thick marker pen. ‘Go inside and have a gander. Eddie was expecting a delivery,’ Vinny lied. He knew what a worry-pot his mother could be, and didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of her.
Vinny gingerly lifted the lid off the box. The smell was horrific and so was the sight of the dead snake with its head chopped off. Vinny stared at the verse.
DEUTERONOMY 32:35
VENGEANCE IS MINE, AND RETRIBUTION.
IN DUE TIME THEIR FOOT WILL SLIP;
FOR THE DAY OF THEIR CALAMITY IS NEAR AND THE IMPENDING THINGS ARE HASTENING UPON THEM.
‘Jesus wept,’ Vinny mumbled, glancing around to check nobody was watching him. No way was this the work of gypsies. Most couldn’t read, let alone spell. This was the work of some serious nutjob. But who? And why?
The hour it took Georgie and Harry to return seemed like ten to Frankie Mitchell. She’d cursed her decision to allow them out, and cried at the thought of them not returning.
‘I told you they’d come back, didn’t I?’ Sammi-Lou beamed.
‘Get off me. What ya doing?’ Harry complained, as his mother tried to hug him. Didn’t the stupid bitch realize he loathed her?
Knowing she and Harry were finally getting somewhere, Georgie smiled sweetly and shared the first proper hug with her mum since she’d arrived home.
‘We’re going back upstairs now to play on the computer,’ Calum said.
Georgie lay on Calum’s bed and stretched out so he could see her belly button. She knew she had a good body, which was another reason she liked to flaunt it. ‘Harry, go back downstairs and grab us a bottle of Coke. Get some crisps as well.’
‘Can’t you go?’ Harry mumbled, staring at Calum’s computer as it burst into life. He had never seen anything so weird, yet fascinating. No travellers he knew owned a computer. Neither did they have Sky TV with all those stupid channels. The life of a gorger was a whole new world to Harry and he couldn’t get his head around the way they lived.
‘No. You go. Go on,’ Georgie urged in a raised voice.
As soon as Harry left the room, Georgie sat up and put her hand on Calum’s knee. ‘Thanks so much for helping me and Harry today. Do you think you could invite us around again soon so we can all go out together? My mum trusts you.’
Feeling Georgie’s hand move towards his thigh, Calum Butler thought he had died and gone to heaven. ‘’Course I will. I’ll invite you round loads.’
Queenie Butler stared dismally out of the window. The weather had taken a turn for the worse this past week or so, and today it was teeming with rain. There was nothing sadder than watching a coffin being lowered into the ground in such weather, but God had rarely been kind to her family over the past few decades, Queenie thought bitterly.
It was the 1970s when the Butler curse had originally struck. Roy, Queenie’s middle son, was the first on God’s hit list. He’d been shot, paralysed, and left wheelchair-bound. Roy had hated his life from that moment onwards, which was why he’d ended up killing himself. Then there had been the car crash that had wiped out the life of Vivian’s son, Lenny. Vivvy had never forgiven Vinny for driving home inebriated, but what had happened was no more than a tragic accident. Vinny had adored his younger cousin. Lenny was ‘special needs’, and Vinny would’ve never intentionally put his life at risk.
‘You OK, Mum?’ Vinny asked, putting his strong arms around the woman he adored so much. She was tiny in comparison to him, but what she lacked in height she made up for in strength.
‘Why is life so unfair, boy? Roy, Lenny, Molly, Adam, Brenda and now Vivvy, all taken before their time. I don’t know any other family that’s suffered such bad bastard luck as us. It’s a cruel world, it really is.’
Picturing his Auntie Viv’s face, Vinny felt incredibly sad. Vivian had been attacked in Whitechapel High Road by a gang of mixed-race hoodies. They had punched her and she had hit her head against the kerb. She’d never woken up, had been in a coma until she passed away. ‘Those lads will pay for what they did, Mum. I will be waiting at the prison gates for ’em, and will personally gouge their eyes out and chop their fucking hands off. You can rest assured of that.’
‘When can we see Calum again, Mum?’ Georgie O’Hara asked. It was so boring being stuck at home all day. She and Harry hated it. Travellers had outdoor spirits.
‘Soon. I’ll call Calum’s mum later.’
‘Can’t you call her now?’ Harry asked.
‘Sammi’s got a family funeral today, so I won’t be able to get hold of her at present.’
‘I suppose I’d better make tracks meself. I hope your dad don’t wanna stay at the wake for hours on end. I’ll be bored shitless if I’m not drinking,’ Stuart said, kissing Frankie goodbye. He’d never met Vivian Harris, but Eddie thought it respectful they attend and show moral support for Vinny.
‘I think we’ll have a takeaway tonight. Try not to be too late,’ Frankie said.
Little did Frankie know as she waved her doting fiancé goodbye that Stuart would not be returning home, ever.
Little Vinny straightened his eldest son’s tie. ‘Auntie Viv’ll come back and haunt you if you wear that wonky,’ he said, trying to make light on such a horrid day. Auntie Viv had always been a permanent fixture in his nan’s house, had only really used her own place to sleep in.
‘There’s lots of people outside the house, Dad,’ Oliver commented.
‘Auntie Viv lived in Whitechapel all her life, boy. Last of a dying breed. You can guarantee a lot of people who’ve moved away will turn up today to pay their respects. It used to be a close-knit community round ’ere. Well loved and respected, Auntie Viv was,’ Little Vinny explained. His sons’ only memories of Whitechapel were the shithole it now was and he liked them to know their roots. When he was growing up the community spirit in the East End was awesome.
Thinking how grown-up and dapper her sons looked in their smart black suits, Sammi-Lou linked arms with her husband. Obviously she had no inkling of what the day had in store for her. If she had, she’d have run a mile.
‘He’s