Michael raised his glass. ‘To a top brother and a true legend.’
Vinny and Queenie chinked glasses. ‘To Roy,’ they said in unison.
Bella D’Angelo shut her eyes, thankful that Antonio was fast asleep at last. She badly needed some thinking time.
It had been nine years ago that she first set eyes on Michael Butler, back in the spring of 1977. She’d gone to the Carpenter’s Arms with a pal, and her first memory of the immaculately turned out man she would fall in love with was how much he looked like the pop star David Essex.
Their affair had been short and sweet, but so very passionate. Michael had admitted to Bella early on in their relationship that he was in love with her, but he’d still chosen to end things. He’d been married to Nancy at the time and had called it a day for the sake of his young sons.
Shortly after Michael broke up with her, Bella moved to New York to start afresh. Back then she’d been a catwalk queen herself, so there’d been no shortage of male admirers. Bella had dated many, but none had matched up to Michael. It was on one of her trips back to London that Bella had met Antonio’s father. She’d been in a club up town with a friend and had spotted a guy who had reminded her of Michael. He wasn’t quite as good looking, but had the same colour hair, green eyes and that same gruff East End accent.
A steamy sex session had followed in a hotel. Bella had been rather tipsy, and had totally let her hair down. It had been her idea to indulge in a bit of dirty role play. How ashamed she felt about that now.
‘You OK, Mummy?’
Bella opened her eyes and smiled at her beloved boy. She was anything but OK, had even toyed with staying in Italy for good. But she could not get Michael out of her mind. Nights were the worst. His handsome face would haunt her dreams and she’d wake up happy, until remembering the party and the smirking face of the bastard who’d fathered Angelo. No way could Michael ever find out what she’d done. It would totally destroy him.
Strolling confidently into the fishing-tackle shop, the Enemy headed straight for the counter. ‘I need a decent filleting knife, mate.’
The owner asked his age, then showed him half a dozen. ‘That one’s your best bet, but it’s expensive. Like most things in life, you pay for what you get.’
‘I’ll take it,’ he replied, taking a wad of notes out of his tracksuit pocket. He wasn’t short of dosh. He’d sold cannabis resin while inside, and was continuing to do so now he was out.
Fifteen minutes later, the Enemy was on a District Line train on his way back to Dagenham. He hoped his dad and granddad were looking down from heaven and were proud of him. That’s if his granddad was even in heaven, of course. Rumour had it, Vinny had put him in a cement mixer and he was now propping up the flyover along the A13. That’s what Billy Carver reckoned anyway.
Turning his thoughts to his purchase, the Enemy smirked. Fish were harmless and didn’t deserve to be filleted. As for the Butlers …
‘Morning, Queen. Silly-boy lemon’s strutting up and down the garden again with his holster and cowboy hat on.’
Queenie chuckled. She and her sister Vivian lived next door but one to each other, and the neighbours in between them were a proper pair of notrights. They were harmless enough though and provided Queenie and Viv with hours of entertainment.
‘Got a houseful today, Viv. Little Vinny’s coming, Michael’s bringing the boys, Vinny and Ava will be here – an’ he’s invited Jay Boy and Jilly.’
‘The more the merrier,’ Vivian replied. She actually wanted to add, bar one, but chose to hold her tongue. Her and Queenie had made a pact to stop dragging up the past and instead concentrate on the future.
‘Answer that for me, Viv.’
Vivian picked up the phone, had a short conversation, then returned to the kitchen. ‘It was Michael. Albie’s had a fall. He’s OK, but Michael didn’t want to leave him today, so I said it would be all right for him to come for dinner an’ all.’
Slamming her potato peeler on the kitchen counter, Queenie turned to her sister, eyes blazing with fury. ‘I don’t want that womanizing old tosspot round ’ere, thanks very much. You had no right to tell Michael he was welcome. It’s my bloody house and it’s gonna be overcrowded as it is.’
Vivian sighed with annoyance. Queenie and Albie had split up donkey’s years ago, yet still her sister wouldn’t let bygones be bygones. ‘Make me laugh, you do. Ain’t it about time you practised what you preach? If I can be adult enough to breathe the same air as that murdering bastard of a son of yours, why can’t you at least be polite to poor Albie?’
Seething, Queenie turned her back on her sister and took her anger out on the saucepans, banging them about like drums.
‘Well?’ Vivian spat. Lenny had been her only child. A wonderful, loving lad who’d never let his learning difficulties hamper his life. Unfortunately, Lenny’s life had been wiped out at the tender age of twenty thanks to Queenie’s eldest son. Not only had Vinny Butler taken her innocent boy to a knocking shop, he’d driven them home while out of his nut on drink and drugs and smashed the bastard car to smithereens. Vinny being Vinny, he’d walked away without a scratch, but her beloved son hadn’t been so lucky. Poor little sod had been virtually beheaded.
‘Me, make you laugh! Well, let me tell you a few home truths: you make me laugh twice as bleedin’ much. “Poor Albie” indeed! You hated the bastard when I was married to him. Called him every name under the sun. I’ve met some two-faced fuckers in my time, but you’re top of that list, Vivian Harris. Molly would still be alive if that disgusting old toad hadn’t stuck his John Thomas up Judy Preston’s snatch. Now piss off back to your own house. How dare you put that vile excuse of a man before me! Me and you are finished. You’re no sister of mine.’
Michael Butler had just got out the shower when he heard the front door slam.
‘It’s only me, Michael. I happened to be passing, so thought I’d pop in to see if you or the boys needed anything,’ Katy shouted out.
Michael gritted his teeth in annoyance. Sunday was Katy’s day off and he certainly hadn’t entrusted her with a key so she could come and go as she pleased. He dressed hurriedly and bounded down the stairs. ‘Pop up the shops for me, boys. I’m out of cigarettes. Tell Bob they’re for me.’
‘I’ll go if you want?’ Katy offered. She liked to make herself indispensable.
‘Nah, they’ll go,’ Michael replied, handing Lee a fiver.
Waiting until the boys were out of earshot, Michael asked, ‘So what you doing ’ere on a Sunday? It’s meant to be your day off.’
Not prepared to admit she’d missed Michael so much that she’d driven past purposely in hope his car would be there, Katy pretended she was on her way to visit a friend. ‘We’re going out for lunch,’ she added.
‘Same ’ere. I’m taking the boys out. Was meant to be going round my mother’s, until it all kicked off.’
‘Oh my God! What’s happened?’ gasped Katy, putting her hand over her mouth for full dramatic effect.
‘Oh, nothing major. My mum had a row with my aunt, that’s all. You best get off then. As soon as the boys come back, I’m making tracks.’
Katy drank a mouthful of tea, then stood