Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection: The Trap, Payback, The Wronged. Kimberley Chambers

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Because he worked nights and there was no way he could invite Nancy to his club now, Michael had devised a rota where he got to spend a few hours with her every day. Firstly, he would meet her at work and spend her lunch break with her. Then, he would pick her up when she had finished, so he managed to grab a couple of hours with her before he started work.

      Because it was stifling hot, instead of going to the café like they usually did, Michael had made a packed lunch so they could sit in the sun and eat it.

      ‘Are you OK? You’re not your usual chatterbox self,’ Nancy remarked, holding Michael’s arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

      Michael put down his sandwich and kissed his girlfriend on the lips. ‘I’m OK, babe. Just got one or two things on my mind.’

      ‘What? You’re not having second thoughts about us, are you?’

      ‘Don’t be daft. I’m not worried about us, babe. It’s my dad.’

      Nancy listened intently while Michael explained about his dad turning up at the club, his illness, and the fall-out between Albie and the rest of the family. ‘You have to forgive your dad, Michael, and visit him. Why don’t you go and see your mum on your own, tell her how you are really feeling. I’m sure she will listen to you,’ Nancy advised.

      Amazed by his girlfriend’s maturity and thoughtfulness, Michael put both arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. Nancy was the girl for him, he was sure of it.

      When their mum rang up the club and summoned them to get to her house as soon as possible, Vinny and Roy guessed she had come to a decision about whether she was going to allow their father back into their lives, or not.

      ‘I’m glad you made your mind up quickly, Mum. It’s this afternoon I told him to ring back,’ Roy said, walking into the lounge.

      Queenie looked confused. ‘What the bleedin’ hell you going on about?’

      ‘Me dad,’ Roy replied.

      ‘Oh, I ain’t even had time to think about that old goat yet. We’ve got far more on our plates than him to worry about at the moment, ain’t we, Viv? Lenny, take Little Vinny out to play,’ Queenie ordered.

      When her sulky nephew had stomped out of the house dragging her grandson behind him, Queenie ordered her sons to sit down on the sofa. ‘It’s your sister. She’s got herself in the family way,’ she explained bluntly.

      ‘She’s fucking what? Where is she? I’ll kill her,’ Vinny said, leaping up like a jack-in-the-box.

      ‘No, you won’t. You leave her to me. I need yous boys to deal with the little bastard who has sewn his seed in her. Can you do that for me?’

      ‘Who is he, Mum? We’ll sort it,’ Roy said.

      ‘Well, you ain’t gonna like this but she is up the spout by Mad Freda’s grandson, Dean. She ain’t even with him now, but reckons she was in a relationship with him. He don’t know she’s in the club. Dumped our Bren last month in favour of another girl, apparently.’

      ‘Did he really? Well, me and Vin will have to pay him a little visit, won’t we, bruv?’ Roy said.

      Vinny was deep in thought. Terry Smart hated him with a passion, so did his old bat of a mother. Neither would be happy if he visited young Dean and forced him to make an honest woman out of his sister. That would be the payback of all paybacks.

      ‘I hope you give him a bloody good hiding, boys. She can’t have the baby. Not by a Smart,’ Vivian declared.

      ‘Well, I ain’t having my grandchild aborted,’ Queenie argued, glaring at her sister.

      ‘Bren can’t keep a Smart baby, can she, Vin?’ Roy urged, wishing his brother would have a bit more input into the conversation. Apart from proposing to Colleen, Roy had always been indecisive when making big decisions.

      Vinny smiled. He had heard good things about young Dean Smart. The lad might only be eighteen, but he had recently got away with a robbery at a post office at Stratford, so for someone so young, Dean was obviously no man’s fool. Brenda wasn’t the brightest bird on earth and she could do a lot worse than Dean. Pissing off Terry and Freda in the process was just an added bonus. It was a case of every cloud having a silver lining. ‘I’ll go and speak to young Dean. He’ll stand by our Bren and make an honest woman of her, I’ll make sure of it.’

      Roy was furious. ‘You can’t marry her off to a Smart.’

      Vinny stared at his mother and aunt. There seemed to be no further objections from either of them, so he continued. ‘Oh, yes I can. Our Bren will not darken the name of this family. If she’s old enough to hawk her mutton and get herself in the family way, then she’s old enough to be married. Brenda has made her own bed, and now she can fucking well lie on it.’

      Unaware of the drama unfolding less than five minutes away, Albie was currently enjoying a pint in his old local, the Blind Beggar. The pub hadn’t changed that much since his last visit, and even though there were quite a lot of new faces dotted about, there were still a few of the old regulars too.

      ‘Christ almighty! Albie Butler, I thought that was you. Blimey, it’s been years since I’ve seen you around this neck of the woods. How you doing?’ Big Stan asked, plonking himself on the seat next to Albie.

      Albie put down his Sporting Life. Big Stan only lived five doors away from Queenie, so Albie had no alternative but to tell him about his cancer.

      ‘Crikey, that’s awful, mate. Can they cure it, like?’ Big Stan asked.

      Feeling a tad guilty at Stan’s obvious concern, Albie shook his head. Part of him wished that he hadn’t made up such an awful lie, but now he had told Roy, there was no going back. It had been pure desperation that had forced Albie to invent such a fib in the first place. Pauline had kicked him out, his money was running out fast, so what was a man to do? Also, there wasn’t a day that had gone by since leaving Whitechapel where Albie hadn’t thought of his children. He had missed Michael the most, as he was the one he had been the closest to. He also missed Brenda, being the only girl.

      The only people in his family that Albie still harboured a grudge against were Queenie and that old bat of a sister of hers. Between them, they had slowly pushed him out of the family circle. Then, by bringing the boys up in the way they had, they had created a monstrosity.

      ‘So, where is the cancer, Albie? Has it spread all over, like?’ Big Stan asked, snapping Albie out of his daydream.

      ‘Don’t know yet. It’s in me stomach somewhere and I’ve got to have more tests done next week,’ Albie replied.

      ‘Such a shame, mate. I thought you looked ill when I saw you. Didn’t even recognize you at first.’

      Thinking what a cheerful bastard Stan was, and wishing he would sod off so he could work out the horses for his accumulator, Albie picked up his empty pint glass. ‘I would offer to buy you a drink, mate, but money’s a bit tight at the moment, if you know what I mean? I’ve been that ill, I haven’t grafted for ages.’

      ‘You sit yourself back down, Albie. The drinks are on me, mate. ’Ere, put that in your pocket as well,’ Stan said, chucking a screwed-up five-pound note on the table.

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