Читать книгу Queens of Crime: 3-Book Thriller Collection - Kimberley Chambers, Jacqui Rose, Jacqui Rose - Страница 36

The days that followed Roy’s shooting were probably the worst of Queenie’s life. She had suffered much hardship over the years, especially as a child when living with her brute of a father, but not even seeing her mother beaten to a pulp compared to sitting at her son’s beside day after day willing him to pull through.

Roy was still in a coma and Queenie felt completely helpless. As a doting mother, she had always done her utmost to be there for her children in a crisis but for once, apart from pray, there was little she could do. Her son’s life was in the hands of the gods, and not knowing if he was ever going to wake up was giving Queenie sleepless nights. Even worse was the thought of Roy waking up permanently brain-damaged. Queenie knew in her soul that she would rather Roy never wake up at all than be a completely different person to the one that he was before.

Queenie was snapped out of her depressing thoughts by the return of Colleen. Her parents had just gone back to Ireland, where they had two other young children to care for, and had begged Colleen to do the same. Colleen had flatly refused and, once she had recovered from the initial shock of the shooting, had spent day and night at her fiancé’s bedside.

‘Hospitals always make you feel so grubby, don’t they? I never noticed it so much working in one, but I do as a visitor. I take it the doctor hasn’t been in today yet?’

Queenie shook her head sadly, watching as Colleen sat down next to Roy and lovingly clasped his lifeless hand in her own. Colleen had been a real little diamond these past few days, but Queenie was worried about her health and state of mind. She had a sickness bug that just wouldn’t budge. She wasn’t eating at all, and spent all her time chatting happily to Roy as though he could actually hear her. ‘Have you thought about when you are going to go back to work yet, love?’

Colleen looked at her future mother-in-law in horror. ‘I’ll think about that when Roy wakes up. I need to be here with him, Queenie. He’s my life.’

‘I understand that, darling, but he could be in a coma for a while yet. My Roy would hate to see you mess all your nurse’s training up. He was so proud you were doing so well with it.’

‘I can’t concentrate on my exams at a time like this, Queenie. It’s impossible.’

Queenie nodded. She could understand where the girl was coming from. ‘You must sort out that bug and start eating more though, darling. Not gonna look good in your wedding dress if you are all skin and bones, are you?’

Appreciating Queenie’s optimism, Colleen smiled. ‘I’ll book a doctor’s appointment as soon as I get a chance, OK?’

‘There’s a good girl.’

Over in Ilford, Donald had spotted the MAN SHOT OUTSIDE NIGHTCLUB headline earlier in the day, but had been far too busy to read the article. However, as his eyes now scanned down the page and he spotted the name Roy Butler, he felt his heart begin to beat wildly. Not wanting to worry Mary, Donald ran upstairs with the paper in his hand and waved it in Christopher’s face. ‘Read this, son. It’s definitely the same Butlers, and the shooting happened the same evening your sister left home. Can you to go down to Woolworth’s and try to talk some sense into that stupid girl? Surely, she now must realize what a mess she has got herself into.’

Christopher read the article through to the end, then stood up. ‘OK, Dad. I’ll go and speak to Nancy right now.’

When Karen saw her new flat for the very first time, she literally clapped her hands with glee. It was spacious, modern, fully furnished and even had its own little garden.

‘Well? What do you think, Karen?’ Ahmed asked politely.

Karen grinned at Vinny, then turned to Ahmed. ‘Oh, I love it. Is the TV, oven, sofa and fridge all included?’

Ahmed nodded.

Unable to wipe the smile off her face, Karen asked to see the garden properly. The sun was shining as Ahmed lifted the blind and unlocked the door and when Karen strolled outside, she could just imagine hanging her washing out and sunbathing. After being stuck in a tower block for the past four years, it really was a heavenly feeling.

‘So, it’s OK then?’ Vinny asked.

Karen grinned. ‘Yeah, it’s great. I’m going to look at the bathroom and main bedroom properly now.’

‘Get in there and explain,’ Vinny hissed, when Karen opened the wardrobe door and asked who all the clothes belonged to.

‘My previous tenant. There has been a problem with them picking up their belongings, so you cannot move in until Monday now,’ Ahmed told Karen.

‘That’s fine. I need to sort out my own stuff at the flat anyway. I won’t need to bring much with me now, seeing how this is already furnished. It will just mainly be personal belongings and all my clothes and shoes.’

‘Well, I’ll help you sort that out, babe. Now, shall we go grab a bit of lunch? I need to eat before I go back up the hospital,’ Vinny suggested.

Thinking how wonderfully kind Vinny had been to her recently, Karen held his arm and squeezed it.

When Vinny glanced back as he walked towards the car, Ahmed winked at him. Even though there were personal belongings scattered all over the flat, the not-so-bright Karen had fallen hook, line, and sinker into their web of deceit.

Terrified of being spotted, Albie Butler hung around outside the London Hospital in the long tan raincoat and big brown hat his sons had made him wear to visit Queenie. Rumours spread like wildfire in Whitechapel, and Albie knew without a doubt that his little white lie would now be common knowledge. His evil son had put the boot in good and proper once again, which is why Albie had had no choice than to leave the East End on the same night Roy had been shot. He hadn’t wanted to, of course. He had been desperate to go to the hospital with the rest of his family, but Vinny had pulled him to one side and all but told him that if he came near any of the family ever again he would end up in a coffin.

Albie crouched down against a nearby wall. He had been ringing the hospital daily, but even though he had sworn he was Roy’s dad they had still refused to update him on his son’s condition. The only thing they would tell him was that Roy was still alive.

When Albie had quickly packed his few belongings and left Whitechapel, he had luckily still had the two hundred quid that Vinny had stuffed in his jacket pocket as a bribe. Not knowing where to go, Albie had returned cap in hand to Becontree Heath and as luck would have it, Pauline had snatched a hundred quid out of his hand, proclaimed she had missed him, and welcomed him back into her home with open arms.

Albie put his hand inside the pocket of his raincoat and checked that the letters were still there. He had spent all yesterday evening writing them in the Matapan pub, and although he had never been a man of words, for once he felt he had done himself proud. For all Queenie’s faults, she deserved to know the truth, not only about how she had made him feel over the years, but also that her eldest son was out of control. He had to warn her if only for Roy and Colleen’s sake. As much as Albie hated to admit it, his sperm had produced a wrong ’un, and he would wait at the hospital for as long as it took. Michael was the only one he could truly trust, which is why he had written him a separate letter. His family were entitled to know what they were dealing with, and Albie was determined that they read the truth from him. Whether or not they believed it was another matter.

Nancy was incredibly anxious as she walked over to her brother. Rhonda had told her he was standing by the till, and apart from her father, Christopher was the last person she wanted to see. ‘What’s up?’ she asked, as casually as she could. She then gestured for her brother to follow her outside the shop.

‘I would rather say what I have to say here, thank you, Nancy. I feel your colleagues might be able to help me make you see sense,’ Christopher stated, hands on hips.

Clocking both her colleagues’ and the customers’ awkward glances, Nancy grabbed Christopher by the arm and tried to lead him outside the shop. ‘Don’t you dare show me up. We’ll speak outside,’ she hissed.

‘Oh, no we won’t,’ Christopher said in a loud voice while waving the East London Advertiser in the air and pointing at the front page. ‘You see these people on the front page, everybody? The gangsters who were shot at? Well, this is the family my stupid sister has left our own family home for and moved in with. My mother is devastated, my father is distraught, and all I want is my sister back.’

Feeling herself blush the colour of crimson, Nancy first looked at Rhonda, then her manager Steven, and then the queuing customers. ‘I am so sorry about all this, everybody,’ she said apologetically.

‘And so you should be, Nancy. Mum, Dad and I have been out of our minds with worry. So, are you coming home with me after work? Or not? I am willing to wait for you if you wish.’

Nancy had never ever felt so humiliated in her whole life. ‘No, Christopher. I am not coming home with you. Now, please get out of my shop and leave me alone. And if you come back here again and jeopardize my job, I swear I will tell Michael about it, OK?’

Unable to believe his ears, Christopher sneered at Nancy, his face a picture of disgust. It was too late to save his sister. She was already a Butler.

After dropping Karen home, Vinny headed to the club. Out of respect for his brother, Vinny hadn’t opened up since the shooting.

Checking that everything was just as it should be, Vinny was about to leave the premises when he heard the shrill ring of the phone, and so he dashed behind the bar to answer it.

‘That you, Vinny?’

Even though he hadn’t heard the voice for a long time, Vinny recognized it immediately. George Geary was the now retired chief inspector Vinny had had in his pocket for many years. ‘You all right, George? What’s up?’

‘Just heard a bit of inside info, boy, which I thought you might be interested in. Obviously, I will expect a drink in return. Fifty quid, shall we say?’

‘Go on,’ Vinny replied.

‘My old mob are just about to charge a man with the attempted murder of your brother. They caught him the same night it happened, but wasn’t allowed to question him immediately, because he’d been involved in a road accident.’

‘Who is it, George?’ Vinny asked, his heart beating like a drum.

‘Johnny Preston.’

Shocked to the core, Vinny told George to pick up his dosh the following day and slammed the phone back on its cradle. He then smashed his fist against the bar. Johnny Preston would pay for what he had done in the very worst way possible. What that was yet, Vinny did not know. But, what he did know was that by the time he had finished with him, Johnny cunting Preston would wish he had never been born.