The Trap (56 page)

Letting out an almighty scream that woke up nigh-on the rest of the street, Vivian’s legs buckled from under her and even though she tried to save herself by grabbing the banister, she couldn’t stop herself from falling. ‘Not my baby. Not my Lenny. You must have got it wrong. It can’t be him. Not my fucking baby,’ she shrieked.

Queenie Butler always slept with one ear open, and she heard the scream immediately. Leaping out of bed, she looked out of the window and spotted the police car parked outside her sister’s house. Queenie was another proud woman who slept in a hairnet and despised being seen without full make-up, but she decided not to be so pretentious for once. She was sure that scream had belonged to her sister, so darted down the stairs.

‘What’s up, Nan? I heard someone,’ Little Vinny said, opening his bedroom door and rubbing his tired eyes.

‘Bring me my dressing-gown, boy. I think the police are at your Auntie Vivian’s house,’ she said, flinging open the front door.

Queenie’s very worst fears were confirmed when she heard her sister wailing like a critically injured animal. Not even waiting for her dressing-gown, Queenie ran outside in her pale-blue flannelette nightie and up her sister’s path. ‘It’s me, Vivvy. What’s wrong?’ she called, hammering on the door.

When a policeman answered, Queenie flew into the hallway followed by Little Vinny who had chased after his nan.

‘Is everything OK?’ Queenie heard Nosy Tilda shout out. The noise must have woken her up too. Slamming the front door shut, Queenie crouched down next to her sister who was sitting on the hallway carpet, hugging her knees to her chest, and making strange noises like foxes did in the mating season.

When she realized she wasn’t going to get an answer out of Vivian, Queenie stood up and faced the two policemen. She recognized one immediately. He had brought her grandson home after catching him shoplifting a while back.

‘I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs Butler, but Mrs Harris’s son was involved in a car crash earlier. Unfortunately, her son never survived, and the driver of the vehicle is in a bad way also.’

‘Noooo! That can’t be right. Lenny was at the club working. He don’t go out in cars,’ Queenie gabbled, her voice a mixture of hysteria and dread.

‘We have every reason to believe that the deceased is Mrs Harris’s son, but we do need somebody to formally identify the body. Perhaps one of your sons could do this, Mrs Butler?’ one of the officers suggested. The Butlers and their relations were notorious to the East End police force, and the officer who had turned up at the scene of the crash, after it had been reported by a passer-by, had immediately recognized young Lenny Harris. Ahmed was a well-known character too, because of his connection with Vinny, and when a faint pulse had been found in his wrist, he had immediately been rushed off to the nearby London Hospital.

‘It weren’t my dad driving the car, was it?’ Little Vinny asked, petrified of the answer.

‘Oh no! Please God, no,’ Queenie stammered. If this was true, it must have been her Vinny driving the car. Lenny wouldn’t have been out with anybody else.

‘No. The driver, who is now critically ill in hospital, was Ahmed Zane. We believe him to be a good friend of your family.’

‘I want my Lenny. I need to see and hold my baby boy,’ Vivian screamed hysterically.

Absolutely shell-shocked, a sobbing Queenie crouched down and held her wonderful sister in her arms. She was truly lost for words for once. Lenny had been the apple of all their eyes, and to think they would never see him again just didn’t make sense. Life was cruel at times, it really was.

Vinny Butler hadn’t slept a wink. When Michael had gone to bed an hour or so back, all Vinny could think about was his beloved cousin partially decapitated and the shocked expression in Lenny’s big brown eyes.

Vinny sat on Michael’s brown leather sofa and put his head in his hands. Not only had he killed his cousin, he had also wiped out the life of his best mate too. How he would ever recover from such a traumatic experience, Vinny would never know, but he had to try to act as normal as possible, else his mother would suspect that he was involved. Obviously, he could express his grief, but other than that, he had to be the strong one of the family, like he always had been. He knew his mother and Auntie Viv were bound to ask why Lenny was out with Ahmed alone, and Vinny didn’t have a story prepared yet. He must think of something soon, but it was so difficult when he had just watched two of the most important people in his life die before his very eyes.

Not quite ready to face the music, Vinny crept upstairs and went into Michael’s bedroom. ‘I thought you’d be asleep,’ he whispered.

‘And how the fuck do you expect me to sleep when I know what you’ve done and I’m the cunt who has to cover up for you,’ Michael replied.

Vinny knelt down next to his brother’s bed. ‘I’m gonna shoot back to the club now. You burnt my clothes properly, didn’t ya?’

‘Of course I fucking did. Not the first time I’ve burnt clothes for you when you’ve got yourself in the shit, is it, Vin? The difference, though, is you never wiped out any members of our own family before, did you?’

‘Listen, Michael, I’m so fucking sorry. My heart is literally broken in two. Just stand by me with the story, please. I need your support. We’re brothers.’

Michael sat up in bed. ‘I won’t grass, don’t worry, but don’t you dare leave me to deal with Mum and Auntie Viv’s grief alone. I have enough on me plate with Nancy and the boys.’

‘I’ll be there for Mum and Auntie Viv, I swear I will. I’ll shut the club until after Champ’s funeral as a mark of respect, and as soon as I get that dreaded phonecall, I will go straight round Mum’s house.’

When Vinny had left the room, Michael fiercely wiped away the lone tear that ran down his cheek. Lenny was going to be immensely missed, but the thing that Michael thought about the most was how his Auntie Viv and mum would survive such a tragedy. They would never get over it, surely?

After a restless night’s sleep, Mary Walker ordered her husband to open the café while she went to visit Nancy again. She had made her daughter a selection of sandwiches in the hope Nancy would eat them. Nancy had always been such a pretty, healthy-looking girl, and Mary had thought how skeletal she’d looked yesterday. The hospital nightdress had been far too big for her daughter and the bones in her wrists and ankles were protruding through her skin.

‘Hello, my darling. How are you today? I’ve bought a bag full of goodies with me, including some sandwiches I made you myself,’ Mary said chirpily, as she sat down on the chair next to her daughter’s bed. Mary had spoken to a doctor on the way in, and he had said that Nancy had definitely suffered some kind of nervous breakdown. He had asked if Nancy’s behaviour had changed since the birth of her youngest child, and implied that the breakdown might have been caused by a severe case of post-natal depression.

‘I’m really not hungry at the moment, Mum, but I will have a sandwich later,’ Nancy said, doing her best to force a smile.

‘Christopher’s been asking about you, and your dad wants to visit you too. We’re all so worried about you, love. I spoke to Michael last night. He is desperate to bring the boys up here, but said he will come alone if you would prefer him to.’

‘I don’t want to see Michael, Mum. It’s all his fault I’m in hospital. He was the one who made me take on a child that I didn’t want. I could barely cope with Daniel and Adam, without him dumping a stranger’s kid on me as well,’ Nancy mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears.

Mary squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘Don’t upset yourself, darling. I shall tell Michael you’re not ready for visitors yet, OK?’

Relieved, Nancy nodded. ‘I would like to see Dad though. But, not today. Wait until I feel a bit better.’

‘Whenever you’re ready, love, but I know Dad will be thrilled that you want to see him. Life’s too short to hold grudges, eh? I think your dad finding out that you were found in an alleyway after trying to walk here to visit your brother was a real wake-up call. Christopher had tears in his eyes when I told him as well. Can you remember anything more yet? You know, about how you ended up in that alley?’ Mary asked gently.

‘I remember feeling tired and my slippers had fallen apart, so I had to take them off. Then, I just remember my feet hurting and I think I sat down for a rest. I’m not sure what happened next.’

‘Well, you’re safe now, sweetheart. I reckon you just fell asleep in that alley, you know. The police and doctor said there is no sign of any injuries other than the cuts on your feet. Nothing of a sexual nature either, thank God. Now, will you do me a big favour?’

‘What?’

‘Eat a sandwich for me. You’ve lost so much weight over the past couple of weeks, Nancy, it’s worrying the life out of me.’

Deciding to oblige to stop her mother from further worry, Nancy nodded her weary head.

Vinny felt terrible when he ended the phonecall to his distraught mother. She hadn’t mentioned Lenny. She had just told him she needed him to get to the house immediately as something dreadful had happened. About to leave the club, Vinny heard the phone ring again and he answered it in case it was Michael. It wasn’t. It was Scottish Pat calling from the Scrubs. ‘What’s up?’ Vinny asked.

‘He ain’t dead. They saved him.’

A chill ran down Vinny’s spine. He had only gone out on a wild one to celebrate Johnny Preston’s death. If he’d have known the cunt was still alive, then Lenny and Ahmed would have been too.

Unaware of his younger cousin’s death, Roy Butler was in exceptionally good spirits. Vinny was due to visit him tomorrow and Roy was ready and waiting for him. Everything was now in place. The bullets were inside the gun, the phonecalls had all been made, and he had explained his need for revenge in separate letters to his family. His mother would be devastated by his actions, Roy knew that, but for once he had to put his own feelings first. Vinny deserved the little surprise that Roy had planned for him tomorrow. In fact, he more than fucking deserved it.

When Vinny arrived at his mother’s house the rest of the family were already there. Brenda, his mum and aunt were all huddled together on the sofa crying their eyes out. Dean was on an armchair looking as awkward as ever, and Michael glared at him as soon as he entered the lounge. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Vinny asked.

Little Vinny flung himself at his father and hugged him. ‘Champ’s dead, Dad.’

Having no alternative but to put on the act of all acts, Vinny stood rooted to the spot with his mouth wide open. ‘Dead! ’Course he ain’t dead. Champ was working last night at the club with me.’

Unable to stop herself, Queenie flew off the sofa and began pummelling her fists against her eldest son’s chest. ‘I told you that fucking Turk was a wrong ’un, didn’t I? How comes you let Lenny out with him on his own, eh? You were meant to be looking after him, you stupid bastard.’

When Tara began screaming, Michael ordered Little Vinny to take her and his three sons out in the garden to play. ‘But I wanna stay here with me dad,’ Little Vinny whinged.

‘Do as your Uncle Michael says, boy,’ Vinny ordered. He was crying himself now. Tears of grief and guilt poured down his cheeks when he clocked his Auntie Viv rocking to and fro on the sofa, mumbling incoherently.

‘Answer my fucking question,’ Queenie yelled at Vinny.

When Vinny came out with some cock-and-bull story about him having a terrible shock yesterday which is why he had allowed Lenny to go off with Ahmed to stay the night at his pad, Michael looked at his brother with hatred.

‘So, what was this terrible shock that was so bad you couldn’t look after your own cousin?’ Queenie asked.

‘Yeah, what was it?’ Brenda chipped in, hugging her distraught aunt at the same time.

‘I was at the club and received a phonecall from Joanna yesterday. Not only did she tell me she was pregnant, but I also found out that her father was none other than Johnny Preston. I wanted Champ to go home, but he loved Ahmed, and Ahmed loved him, so when Champ pleaded with me to stay at the club, I said only on the condition that when Ahmed went home, he took Champ with him. Ahmed wasn’t drunk when I left, honest he wasn’t. I needed to get my head straight and talk to someone about what I’d found out, so I drove straight to Michael’s gaff and we sat up all night talking, didn’t we, bruv?’ Vinny explained tearfully, while glancing at his brother with pleading eyes to back up his story.

‘Yeah, we did,’ Michael mumbled, staring at his feet and feeling physically sick. How he was ever going to look his mum and Auntie Viv straight in the eyes again he did not know.

‘It can’t be my baby. I know it can’t be him. There must be a mistake. I need to see him,’ Vivian suddenly shrieked.

Queenie sat down, held her heartbroken sister in her arms, and glared at Vinny. ‘The police need somebody to identify the body. It’s best you do it.’

‘Noooo! I want to see my baby. I have to know it’s him,’ Vivian sobbed.

‘But the police said it’s better that one of the boys do it, Vivvy,’ Queenie reminded her sister.

Vivian’s top lip suddenly curled into a snarl. ‘I don’t care what the cunting police said. Lenny is my baby and if I want to see him, then I will.’

‘I’ll go and identify the body,’ Vinny offered awkwardly. He was dreading seeing his beloved cousin in the morgue, but at least he could apologize once again and say a proper goodbye to him.

‘I want to see my son,’ Vivian screamed.

‘OK, darling. You and Vinny can go together,’ Queenie told her sister. She couldn’t face seeing Lenny herself. She had loved him too much to see him battered and lifeless.

‘Shall we go now?’ Vinny asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa so he could hug his mum.

Queenie pushed Vinny away. ‘Let’s hope that cunt of a mate of yours dies as well, ’cause I’m telling you now if that Turkish piece of shit survives, I will kill him with my own bare hands.’

‘What? Is Ahmed not dead?’ Vinny blurted out, his voice filled with panic.

‘Critical, but not dead yet. He soon fucking will be though if I have my way,’ Queenie spat.

Vinny felt his legs nearly buckle beneath him when he tried to stand up. What the fuck had he done? And if Ahmed survived what the hell would he think of him, or say to the police? Ahmed was no grass, Vinny knew that, but if he had bad head injuries, he could be capable of saying anything.