got a lot on me plate.’
‘Like what?’ Queenie enquired.
‘Like the club’s takings are in freefall, plus I’ve got my wife on my case the whole time because I’m having to sleep at the club to keep an eye on my nephew because no other bastard will do it.’
Knowing Michael’s words were a dig at her for refusing to take on the responsibility of minding Little Vinny, Queenie quickly changed the subject. ‘Still won’t talk about what happened, your Auntie Viv. Traumatized she is, I can tell. I mean, having a big dingle-dangle waved at her at her time of life could’ve killed her, Michael. What a shock for the poor woman,’ she elaborated.
‘Bang out of order, Mum. And as I promised, I’ll pay Pervy Pat a visit. I haven’t forgotten, just haven’t had time yet.’
‘Best you make time and pay him a bit more than a quick visit now, boy. Janey came clean to her family and Billy Higgins keeled over with a heart attack. Had angina for years, the poor bastard. Been rushed to hospital and is in intensive care. Your Auntie Viv’s in pieces, as you can well imagine. She’s always held a torch for Billy. Pervy Pat needs to be dealt with, Michael, before he gets the chance to pounce again. Shame Vinny’s not around. He’d have sorted it in no time. Don’t want people taking liberties while he’s at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’
‘Vinny ain’t the only person round ’ere that’s capable of dealing with stuff, Mother. I do happen to be a Butler as well, you know. I’ll sort it ASAP, all right?’
Queenie nodded. ‘That’ll be great comfort to Auntie Viv, boy. She’s very depressed today and we don’t want her going down that road again, do we?’
Little Vinny felt physically sick as he approached the Bloggses’ abode. Letting that toothless junkie suck his cock haunted him nearly as much as throttling Molly.
Awoken from her drug-induced sleep, Alison Bloggs began screaming obscenities at the top of her voice. She stopped the moment she stuck her head out of her bedroom window and got a glimpse of her visitor. ‘Oh, it’s you, Vin. Wanna come in? Got any booze or puff on ya?’
Little Vinny stared up at the whore with hatred. ‘No I don’t, and no I ain’t. I wanna give Ben a good send-off. My Uncle Michael’s gonna pay for it.’
‘Bit late. Ben was buried yesterday, I think.’
‘Whaddya mean, you think!’
Alison Bloggs shrugged. ‘Some geezer turned up ’ere the other day and said they were burying him.’
‘Didn’t you even go to the funeral?’ Little Vinny asked in astonishment.
‘I weren’t well. They took all me other kids away, Vin. Suicide is a selfish way out. Ben left me right in the shit. Come in, boy. Makes me feel better, your company.’
Pausing only to retch his guts up all over the pavement, Little Vinny ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.
‘How’s it going, bruv?’ Michael asked diplomatically. His mother had made him promise to tread on egg shells during the visit as she didn’t want her number-one son any more upset than he already was.
‘I’m having a wonderful time, Michael. It reminds me of being back at Kings Holiday Park.’
About to order his brother to drop the sarcasm, Michael bit his tongue instead, leaned forward and, using a code they’d worked out over the years for when there were eavesdroppers in the vicinity, told him what Pervy Pat had been up to. Since the day Queenie had told him about Viv’s ordeal, Michael had been having him watched. It turned out the nonce was a creature of habit: every night, regular as clockwork, he frequented the same two boozers. He was working up to telling Vinny how he planned to deal with the bastard when his brother cut him off.
‘How dare that cunt behave in such a way to Auntie Viv! I take that as a personal insult, don’t you? So what ya gonna do about it, little bruv? Only, it weren’t that long ago you nearly shit yourself over a cow mooing the night we sorted Clever Trevor,’ Vinny taunted. Since a very early age it had fallen to him to solve any problem his mother or family might encounter, and he hated the fact that he was helpless in the Ville while scum like Pervy Pat roamed his turf. His little brother had always been a reluctant participant in any heavy violence and he didn’t trust him to take over the reins in his absence – not that he had any choice in the matter.
‘I ain’t no mug, Vin, so please don’t treat me like one. I’ll look after the family, and put it this way, I’m the only fucking guardian your son has at the moment. I’ll sort Pervy Pat, don’t you worry. And while I’m at it I’ll restore our club to its former glory days. We’re losing money hand over fist at the moment, but I have a plan.’
‘What you on about?’ Vinny sneered.
Sick of being treated like a lackey, Michael forgot all about his mother’s earlier warning and came right out with it: ‘I’m thinking of turning the club into a disco. Times have changed over the years and we need to move with ’em. Nobody wants to see live singers these days. I just know I can earn us a fortune by changing things. Trust me on this one.’
The only thing that kept Vinny from reaching across the table and punching his brother was the thought of ending up in solitary confinement. Instead he leaned across the table and hissed, ‘You listen to me, Billy Big Bollocks. That club is my baby, always has been and always will be. Therefore, I decide what’s what. You get my drift? Defy me, Michael, and I swear on my life I will make sure you live to regret it. Now, do we fucking understand one another?’
In the depths of Hainault Forest, Little Vinny was stoned, drunk and extremely morose. He had no idea of the exact spot where Ben had hung himself, but just being there made him feel close to his mate.
Annoyed with himself for doubting Ben’s loyalty, Little Vinny felt he needed to get a few things off his chest. ‘I loved you, pal,’ he shouted into the trees. ‘I weren’t really gonna tell the Old Bill that you had an unhealthy interest in Molly. I did think about saying it, but only because I thought you might’ve grassed. I should’ve known better. You were a top lad. No way would you ever snitch on me.’
Wishing more than anything else in the world that Ben was still alive to reply to him, Little Vinny put his head in his hands and wept. He’d been helping out his Uncle Michael at the club, but he couldn’t really move on with his life just yet. Too much had happened in a short space of time and his head was a complete mess.
Crouching down as if in prayer, Little Vinny made a vow to his pal: ‘I’m gonna get revenge for you, Ben. I know how much you loved your brothers and sisters, and I’ll make sure they don’t suffer like you did. You deserved so much more in life than the shitty cards you were dealt. I know you never killed yourself because of Molly. It was your junkie slag of a mother that drove you to it. Well, I’m gonna sort her out for ya. It’s the least I can do after everything you did for me.’
Pete and Paul had been friends with Roy Butler at school. Back in the sixties when Roy and Vinny had first opened the club, both men had jumped at the chance to work for the Butlers and had remained loyal ever since.
Officially, they were bouncers, but Pete and Paul had always been willing to help out in an unofficial capacity if need be. Even so, they were both gobsmacked when Michael Butler summoned them in for an afternoon meeting and demanded that they kidnap Pervy Pat that very night.
‘It’s a bit rushed, isn’t it, Michael? We’ll need time to sort out an alibi and prepare properly,’ Pete warned.
Though neither of them said it, it wasn’t the suddenness that worried them or even the order itself, it was the fact that Michael was the one issuing it. Although he’d been part of the set-up for years, Vinny had always been the one in charge of dealing with that side of things.
Desperate to make an impression, Michael Butler stood firm. ‘I’ve already sorted out our alibi plus a van, and we already know Pervy Pat’s movements. Billy Higgins is one of our own and that nonce-case needs to