then flopped nervously onto a chair.
‘There we are,’ Colleen said, placing the tray on the table.
Roy took a mouthful of pie and immediately felt sick. He had been lying to her, he felt far too anxious to eat and knew the quicker he got this over with the better.
‘Bejesus. Whatever are you doing, Roy Butler?’ Colleen asked, when her boyfriend dropped to one knee.
‘It’s virtually a year to the day that I first met you at this very table in this pie and mash shop. I love you so much, Colleen O’Connell, and I know you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I have already spoken to your father and asked for his blessing, so will you marry me?’
Colleen burst into tears as she stared at the diamond ring Roy held in a black box in his shaking hands. ‘Of course I will marry you, you daft bugger.’
When Roy placed the ring on her finger, everybody in the shop, including the staff, gave a loud cheer.
Vinny Butler helped his son onto the ride then, deep in thought, watched him go round and round on the metal horse. Since the Krays had been banged-up in 1969 for the murders of Jack McVitie and George Cornell, Vinny had really made his mark on the East End. The Mitchells were still a force to be reckoned with, but they were based in Canning Town, and were currently too busy feuding with a travelling family called the O’Haras to be bothered about what he and his brothers were doing.
Vinny was overjoyed with the success of his new club. His old gaff had become so popular he’d been turning people away from nine o’clock onwards, and he had known he would quadruple his takings if he could find a much bigger place. He had suggested naming the new venue after his mum, but Roy said they would be made laughing stocks because to name it Queen’s or Queenie’s would make it sound like a club for bum-bandits.
Michael had come on in leaps and bounds over the years and was now a valuable asset to the business. Once Vinny had drummed into his little brother that driving around on a silly scooter with a soppy over-sized parka on was not a cool or adult look, Michael had grown up overnight. Roy was a different matter. Ever since he had fallen hook, line and sinker for the Irish tart he was dating, he expected to take nights off at will to wine and dine her. Vinny had always put work before pleasure and to say he was displeased with Roy’s carefree attitude this past year was putting it mildly. Things hadn’t come to a head just yet, but Vinny knew he was very near to blowing his top with his brother. He’d only tried to keep a lid on it because he knew if they fell out, not only would it affect their business, it would also greatly upset their mother.
‘Well? Did you enjoy that?’ Vinny asked, when his son jumped off the ride and ran towards him.
‘Nah. It was shit, Dad. Can I go on the dodgems?’
Chuckling, Vinny lifted his son up in the air above his own head. ‘There’s Auntie Brenda over there,’ Little Vinny said.
‘Where?’
‘Over there with them boys.’
Vinny put his son down and looked to where he had been pointing. Brenda was standing scantily dressed with her friend Susan Shipton. They were blatantly flirting with a crowd of long-haired lads and when Vinny saw one put his hand on Brenda’s backside, he saw red and marched over. ‘Oi, what do you think you’re doing touching her like that?’ he asked, pushing the culprit so hard, he fell backwards and landed on his backside.
‘We’re only having a laugh, mate. We ain’t taking no liberties,’ one of the lads said to Vinny.
‘Don’t you “mate” me, you cheeky fucker,’ Vinny said, roughly grabbing hold of his sister by the arm.
‘Leave me alone. I am entitled to a life, you know. We ain’t done nothing wrong. Tell him, Sue,’ Brenda screamed, trying to wriggle out of Vinny’s grasp.
Susan Shipton said nothing. She was well aware of Vinny’s temper and if she opened her mouth it would only make matters worse.
Marching Brenda away from the group of lads, Vinny pushed her against the side of a nearby hula-hoop stall. ‘How dare you embarrass the family name by coming out dressed like that? You look like a slag, Bren, a cheap fucking whore, and I will not put up with it.’
‘But all the girls are dressing like me. I’m not a slag, Vinny. It’s the fashion,’ Brenda wept.
‘I don’t care what the fashion is, Bren. You are my sister and I will not be laughed at because you are roaming around town dressing and acting like some hooker. I have my reputation to consider, understand? Now, get yourself straight home. I will be checking with Mum to make sure you obeyed my orders.’
‘I hate you,’ Brenda screamed, running away.
The song being played on the waltzer as she bolted past was Three Dog Night’s ‘Mama Told Me Not to Come’, and if there was one song Brenda did not want to hear at that very moment, it was that.
Unaware that the girl who had just run past her crying was her old schoolfriend Brenda Butler, Nancy whooped with delight as the waltzer started up.
‘Don’t spin us too fast,’ Rhonda said to the man who was standing directly behind them.
The man winked, and then of course spun the girls around until they screamed like babies, begging him to stop.
‘Oh, I feel dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick,’ Nancy joked, clutching her friend’s arm as they staggered off the ride.
‘Don’t look now, but there’s a bloke staring at us. Actually, I think it’s you he’s looking at. He is wearing a dark suit and he’s very handsome,’ Rhonda said, giggling.
Nancy looked around and immediately locked eyes with the lad. He looked a bit older than her and Rhonda, and there was something slightly familiar about him. When he smiled at her, Nancy felt her insides knot together. He didn’t look anything like Marc Bolan. He had more of a sixties look. He wore his hair swept forward like the Beatles used to wear in their heyday. Nevertheless, he was incredibly stunning and Nancy could not take her eyes off him.
‘Oh my God! He’s coming over to you, Nance,’ Rhonda exclaimed.
How her knees never buckled under her when the handsome lad approached her, Nancy would never know. He was even more beautiful up close than from a distance. His hair was jet black, his eyes were a piercing green, and his perfect straight teeth were as white as driven snow. He was even better-looking than Marc bloody Bolan.
‘Is your name Nancy?’ the lad asked politely.
Nancy couldn’t trust herself to speak, such was the effect this stranger was having on her, so she nodded instead. How the hell did he know her name?
The lad held out his right hand. ‘You used to knock about with my little sister, Brenda, for a short spell many moons ago, and I never forget a pretty face.’
Nancy clapped her hand over her mouth as recognition engulfed her. ‘Michael. Michael Butler,’ she mumbled.
Michael smiled and flicked his hair out of his eyes in a seductive manner. ‘You remembered me then?’
At the tender age of eleven, Michael Butler had been her first major crush, so how could Nancy ever have forgotten him?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘You all right, love?’ Queenie shouted, as she heard her daughter stomp down the stairs.
‘No. I’m anything but all right which is why I’ve decided to go out, and seeing as I am sixteen, there is nothing you can do to stop me,’ Brenda replied. She had been fuming when she’d arrived home yesterday from the fair. She had expected some sympathy off her mother, but instead her mum had stuck up for Vinny. Talk about old habits dying hard.
‘If you walk out of this house, young lady, don’t you bother coming back. You know it’s Little Vinny’s birthday party,’