Название: Queens of Crime: 3-Book Thriller Collection
Автор: Kimberley Chambers
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780008115319
isbn:
‘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 scantilly 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 forgetten 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,’ Queenie yelled.
Yesterday had been a wake-up call for Brenda and she could kick herself for not standing up to Vinny at the fair. All her brothers were over-protective of her, they had been ever since they had found out she had a boyfriend at thirteen, but Vinny was by far the worst. Glaring at both her mother and her aunt, Brenda put her hands on her hips. ‘Fine! I’ll go and pack my case now.’
‘Will all my friends be there yet?’ Little Vinny asked his father as they drove towards Queenie’s house. He had already received some great presents. His dad had bought him a bike, a Hornby train set, and an Airfix Spitfire, and his Uncle Michael had given him some Stickle Bricks and a Meccano set.
‘No. Your party don’t start till one and it’s only twelve,’ Vinny explained, glancing at Michael. His brother was sitting in the passenger seat staring out of the window like a zombie. ‘What the fuck’s up with you? You were acting really weird last night.’
Michael shook his head as if to try to wake himself up. Over the years he had dated more girls than Vinny and Roy put together, but not one had ever had the effect on him that Nancy Walker seemed to be having. His mum and aunt often joked he should be called Alfie, after the playboy in the Michael Caine film, such was his thirst for pretty girls, but since meeting Nancy yesterday, Michael could think of little else. ‘Sorry I’ve been a bit distant, but I can’t stop thinking about someone I bumped into. Do you remember the girl whose parents ran Old Jack’s café for a while before it was turned into a butcher’s shop?’
‘Yeah, ’course I do. It was her little СКАЧАТЬ