Queens of Crime: 3-Book Thriller Collection. Kimberley Chambers

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      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      Johnny Preston opened the door of his van and grimaced as the stench of dead animals hit his nostrils. Working in a slaughterhouse was an awful fucking job and the only saving grace for Johnny was he was able to nick a load of meat which he would then sell on to a few butchers he knew on the cheap.

      The hot July weather was making the dead animals smell even worse than usual, and when Johnny climbed into the van and a lifeless pig fell on top of him and sent him sprawling, he knew enough was enough.

      ‘What you doing?’ Johnny’s pal Keith asked him.

      Johnny took off his overalls and slung them in the back of the van. ‘I’m doing something I should have done years ago. I’m moving back to London.’

      ‘But, I thought you couldn’t set foot in London? You said that heavy mob would kill you if you ever went back.’

      Johnny grinned. ‘Not if I kill them first.’

      As Johnny strolled up the road, Keith chased after him. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, mate. Think of your kids. You don’t wanna end up six feet under like you said Dave did, do you?’

      Johnny turned to his mate and gave him a manly hug. Keith was the only real friend he had made since moving out to Tiptree in Essex, and he was the only one Johnny had ever trusted to tell about his past. ‘You look after yourself, Keith, and don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need to get revenge for my pal’s death. An eye for an eye an’ all that. Only I can make sure Vinny Butler gets his comeuppance.’

      Knowing how his elder brother was prone to flying off the handle, Roy had decided to wait until the club was shut and he was alone with Vinny before he mentioned their dad’s reappearance.

      ‘You’re quiet. Has the lovely Colleen kicked you into touch already?’ Vinny asked.

      ‘No, ’course she ain’t. Look, we need to talk. I had a visit yesterday from Dad, and before you start shouting and swearing, or jumping down my throat, he’s ill, Vinny, really ill.’

      ‘Oh diddums. Poor Daddy. My heart bleeds for him. So, what did the old cunt want? Money? You better not have given him any of our hard-earned dosh, Roy, else there will be trouble.’

      Roy stared into his brother’s eyes in the hope of seeing a glint of emotion. He didn’t. All he saw was coldness. ‘You really are one callous bastard at times, Vin. Dad didn’t ask for money actually. He’s got cancer and he wants to try and make things right with us and Mum before he dies.’

      Vinny flopped onto the armchair. ‘Does he look ill? He weren’t spinning you one of his yarns, was he? You know what a conniving old bastard he can be.’

      ‘Nah, he looked really ill. In fact, he could barely breathe when he arrived. He’s lost weight and most of his hair. You wouldn’t recognize him, Vin. Looks about seventy, he does.’

      Vinny ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. If he didn’t have enough on his plate with Karen turning up out of the blue, he now had his father to contend with as well. ‘Have you told anyone else yet? Does Mum know?’

      ‘I haven’t told a soul. I thought perhaps me and you could pop around Mum’s and tell her together? Do you think she’ll be upset? Or not bothered?’

      Vinny shrugged. ‘I dunno. All I know is I’m a big believer of things happening in threes. First Karen turning up, then Dad. I wonder which unsavoury cunt will be the next to darken our doorstep?’

      Brenda Butler felt nauseous with fear as she approached the house in Bromley-by-Bow for the second time that day. The pregnancy test had cost her three pounds and the doctor had been quite cold towards her. He had just snatched the money and water sample out of her hands and told her to come back three hours later for the result.

      ‘Dr Ali has a patient with him at the moment, so take a seat,’ the woman who answered the door said.

      Brenda and Susan sat down. It definitely wasn’t a proper doctor’s surgery. It was just like a bare lounge with a few old plastic chairs in it.

      ‘I hope we haven’t got to wait long. I just want to know one way or the other,’ Brenda whispered to her friend.

      ‘So, what you going to do if you are pregnant? Will you let Dr Ali arrange an abortion for you?’ Susan whispered back.

      ‘I don’t know. I haven’t got any money. I don’t know what I will do, but I suppose telling my mum would be a better option than telling my brothers. I wasn’t sick this morning, so I am just hoping I had a bug.’

      ‘Dr Ali will see you now,’ the woman shouted out.

      Clutching her friend’s arm for moral support, Brenda walked into the room.

      ‘I have your results here and I can confirm you are indeed pregnant, Miss Butler. Now, would you like me to make an appointment with my friend Dr Khan for you? He will perform your abortion very cheap. He will charge you fifty pounds.’

      Brenda felt her legs buckle beneath her and if she hadn’t been holding Susan’s arm she was sure she would have collapsed on the floor.

      ‘Well, do you want me to book the appointment with Dr Khan?’ Dr Ali asked impatiently. He dealt with trashy English girls like Brenda all day long and had no time for them whatsoever. If they’d thought of the consequences before dropping their knickers, then these stupid girls wouldn’t have got themselves pregnant in the first place.

      ‘No, she doesn’t want an appointment with Dr Khan. Come on, Bren, we’re going,’ Susan said, leading her friend towards the door.

      When they got out of the makeshift surgery and the warm air hit her, Brenda leant tearfully against a nearby wall. ‘What am I gonna do? My mum is gonna kill me,’ she wailed.

      Susan would have loved to have been able to reassure Brenda that everything would be fine and her family would be supportive, but she couldn’t lie. So instead she said nothing.

      Walking on air because his relationship with Nancy seemed to be going so well, Michael was brought back down to earth with a thud when he learned that his father was seriously ill. Unlike his brothers, who had refused to discuss his dad over the past five and a half years, Michael had often thought about him, and wondered what he was up to. ‘So, where is he living? Is he still in Barking with that bird?’ Michael asked.

      Roy shook his head. ‘He’s living back in Whitechapel by all accounts. He didn’t say where, but said he needed to be near the London Hospital for all his appointments and stuff. He also said that he wanted to spend his final days back in the place he grew up in and loved. He said it reminded him of us and Mum,’ Roy explained.

      Vinny chuckled sarcastically. ‘Fuck me, shall we get the violins out? You never said any of this earlier, Roy. Good old Dad can certainly still come up with a great sob СКАЧАТЬ