Читать книгу Backstabber: The No. 1 bestseller at her shocking, gripping best – this book has a twist and a sting in its tail! - Kimberley Chambers - Страница 15

Eddie Mitchell plonked his drinks on the table. He looked extra suave today in his black Armani suit and he’d finally got around to having his hair cut yesterday. ‘The barmaid wouldn’t stop talking. She’s got the hots for me,’ he chuckled. ‘Nice-looking sort. But you know me, Vin. Only got eyes for my Gina.’

When his phone started to ring again, Vinny turned it off. ‘Me and my big mouth. It’s deffo all kicked off at the wake. Five missed calls from my mum in the space of two minutes. Michael’s probably on the warpath, searching for me as we speak. Let’s hope he don’t get his hands on a cricket bat again, eh?’ Vinny joked. When his brother had originally found out about his fling with Bella, Michael had stormed inside the Blind Beggar and taken a cricket bat to his head.

‘Did you tell Michael you’d put your foot in it?’ Eddie asked.

‘Nah. I said Mum needed to speak to him urgently. We’ll shoot back there in half an hour or so. Hopefully, he might have calmed down a bit by then.’

Every head in the place turned as the pub door crashed open and a white-faced man staggered in. ‘There’s been a shooting,’ he stammered, ‘down the road. It’s carnage out there – loads of people dead.’

Vinny leapt up. ‘What’s happened? Where?’

‘Nick’s restaurant – two masked men ran in there and started shooting. Ring the police and call some ambulances,’ he told the barmaid. ‘I’m going back there to see if I can help in any way.’

Vinny’s face turned a deathly shade of white. So did Eddie’s. Seconds later, the two of them bolted from the pub.

‘Sammi! Talk to me. Open your eyes. Please, keep awake, babe.’ Little Vinny’s tears dripped on to his wife’s cheeks as he gently cradled her head while pleading with her to speak to him. She’d said his name just now, and whispered Oliver’s, so she’d definitely been alive then. But now her eyes were shut, and as much as he pleaded, she wouldn’t open them again.

‘Move out the way. I’m a first aider,’ a female urged.

Little Vinny did as he was told. Punching the wall in frustration, he sank to his haunches, put his head in his hands and cried. He already knew Oliver was dead. His handsome first-born’s face now resembled something out of a horror movie. Nobody could have survived that, let alone a sixteen-year-old lad. As for Sammi-Lou, she’d been shot twice, in the chest and arm. This could not be happening, surely? Was it a bad dream? A fucked-up nightmare?

‘The police are here,’ a voice yelled.

‘Cover Oliver up. Put a coat over him or something. I can’t bear to look at him like that,’ Queenie wept, trying to comfort Ava at the same time. Her granddaughter was in trance-like shock, most people were. The atmosphere was completely surreal and Queenie was petrified that Vinny had also been caught up in the crossfire. She hadn’t been able to hear much with Michael lying across her as a human shield, but she’d caught enough of what the masked men had said to know they were after her eldest’s scalp in some warped form of retribution for Ahmed Zane.

‘The paramedics have arrived. Move away from the injured,’ a male voice bellowed.

Mouthy Maureen sobbed as Big Stan was covered over. He’d been a great neighbour, so kind, and Whitechapel certainly wouldn’t be the same without him. His family would be devastated, especially his poor wife, who was completely dependent on him due to her own health problems. She struggled to walk these days.

Totally beside himself, Calum Butler repeatedly smashed his forehead against the wall.

‘Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,’ Michael said, grabbing hold of the distraught lad and wrapping his strong arms around him. Like everyone else, Michael was stunned by what had happened but was trying to hold it together for the sake of the family. He was also relieved his own children weren’t present. Camila had had an important audition for a show, thank God. And Nathan and Ellie hadn’t known Viv that well.

‘Ollie’s dead and now my mum’s gonna die. I need to be with Regan. They’ll have to let him come home now, won’t they?’ Calum gabbled, clinging on to Michael. He’d always been closer to his younger brother than he had to Oliver, but he’d still loved him a lot. Now he didn’t have an older brother any more. A disfigured corpse was all that was left of Ollie.

‘The professionals are working on your mum now. Fingers crossed, she’s gonna be OK, boy. Let’s both say a prayer for her, eh?’

‘Nah. God’s a fucking wanker. I don’t believe in him anyway.’

‘Dad! Nan, there’s Dad,’ Ava shrieked, the relief in her voice clear to hear.

Shocked at the horrific sight that greeted his eyes, Vinny scanned the room for his mum and dashed towards her, throwing his arms around her, then Ava. ‘Thank God you’re both all right. Where’s Little Vinny, and Michael? Is all the family OK?’

‘Little Vinny and Michael are, but Oliver and Sammi-Lou both got shot. He’s gone, boy. Ollie’s dead,’ Queenie sobbed. It was only recently her great-grandson had visited her in her new home. Laughing and joking, he’d been, telling her all about his college course. She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. His life had been wiped out in front of her very eyes, in an instant.

Vinny looked at his mother as though she had lost the plot. ‘Ollie? Where is he? He can’t be dead.’

The gaff was now swarming with police and paramedics. Tears rolled down Queenie’s cheeks as she pointed towards where Oliver lay. The once-clean carpet was soaked in blood and gore. And most of the blood was her great-grandson’s.

Vinny ran over to the lifeless body of his first-born grandchild. ‘Move out the fucking way,’ he demanded.

A police officer grabbed hold of Vinny’s arm. ‘You can’t go near the victims, sir. We’re doing everything we can, as are the paramedics.’

Vinny pushed the copper out of his way. ‘I wanna see my grandson. I’ve got every right to.’

Another police officer stepped in. ‘I’m so sorry, but your grandson is a fatality. Now, can we clear this area? Move everybody outside. This is a crime scene,’ he yelled at his colleague.

Stunned, Vinny couldn’t move. He could remember holding Oliver in his arms as a baby for the very first time, and had felt great pride in watching him grow into a charming young man. The lad had his whole life ahead of him, how could it be wiped out in a split second?

Vinny was jolted back to reality by Eddie Mitchell’s voice. ‘Stuart’s in a proper bad way. Been shot in the gut and shoulder. I’m going in the ambulance with him. He’s unconscious.’

‘Jesus wept! I hope he’s gonna be all right. They reckon Oliver’s dead. He can’t be, surely? We only went to the pub. Who would pull a stunt like this at a wake? And why?’ Vinny mumbled. The carnage around him was dreadful, and he just couldn’t take it all in at present. How the hell was his son going to cope if Oliver was dead? That boy had always been the apple of Little Vinny’s eye. As for Sammi-Lou, she’d been the making of his son. No way would he be able to carry on without her.

Looking around for Little Vinny, Vinny heard the blood-curling scream come from his mouth before he saw him:

‘You can’t die, Sammi-Lou. Me and the boys love you. We need you. Wake up, sweetheart. Please, I beg you. Wake up …’

Eddie Mitchell paced up and down the hospital corridor. Stuart was currently undergoing a life-saving operation and the doctors had already warned Eddie that his chances of pulling through were no higher than fifty–fifty.

‘I’ll go and get us some coffees. Anyone hungry?’ Raymond asked. Not many men would still be pals and employed by a bloke who’d ended their sister’s life, but Raymond had been employed by Ed since he was a teenager and wasn’t a man to hold unnecessary grudges. Eddie Mitchell was a good person, Jessica had idolized him. What had happened was no more than an accident, a horrific case of mistaken identity.

Gary Mitchell, Ed’s eldest son, shook his head. He and Raymond had been out collecting a few debts when they’d heard through the grapevine about the shooting. News travelled fast amongst the underworld and as relieved as Gary was to learn his dad was unscathed, he was gutted that Stuart had copped it. Stu was a good bloke and since he’d taken up with Frankie, he’d well and truly become one of the family.

When Raymond walked away, Eddie plonked himself on his chair. ‘I’m such a cunt when that Scotch gets in my veins, ya know. Stu wanted to leave the wake, but I weren’t having none of it. Spoke to him like a piece of shit, I did. If only I’d listened to him. Poor bastard’s fighting for his life now because of me.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up, Dad – you weren’t the one who went loopy with a poxy gun. Any idea who’s responsible? Gotta be somebody who’s got it in for Vinny, surely?’

‘I heard a murmur as I left that they were Turks. Someone said they shouted out Ahmed’s name.’

‘Ahmed who?’

‘Ahmed Zane – you must remember him. Used to be Vinny’s business partner, and pal. Slimy shitbag, he was. I never liked him. Well, he wronged Vinny, him and his cousin Burak, so Vinny made them vanish. Years ago now, though. Why wait all this time for revenge?’

Gary sighed. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash, I dare say. I bet you wish you’d never got involved with Vinny bloody Butler now?’

Eddie shrugged. ‘Even if it’s true that it was revenge for Ahmed, it ain’t exactly Vinny’s fault. Ahmed had it coming to him and disappeared years ago. Whoever is responsible must be the same sickos who sent us the rats and snake.’

‘What rats and snake?’ Gary asked.

Eddie explained about the unwanted gifts that had turned up at the casino.

‘Why didn’t you mention that before?’

‘Didn’t seem important. I thought it was something to do with the pikeys, if I’m honest. Something Harry said pointed towards those bastards.’

‘Stu better pull through, Dad. Frankie’ll go to pieces without him by her side. No way will she be able to manage the devil’s spawn on her own.’

About to reply, Eddie was stopped from doing so by the appearance of a stony-faced doctor. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Mitchell. We really did do everything we could, but Mr Howells’s injuries were far worse than we could have imagined. The bullet was lodged only a centimetre from the heart and as we tried to dislodge it, he went into cardiac arrest.’

‘He’s dead?’ Eddie mumbled stupidly.

The doctor nodded.

Little Vinny Butler felt like his whole world had collapsed, and it had. He’d been sick and couldn’t stop shaking, and as an image of Molly flashed through his mind once again, he shut his eyes and rocked to and fro. He could see his little sister clearly, she was smiling at him, laughing almost, and he knew without a doubt this was retribution for his past sins. To lose a much-loved child was an excruciating feeling, and Little Vinny now knew how his dad must’ve felt when Molly died.

‘I think the doctor needs to sedate him, love. He looks grey and can’t stop trembling, bless him,’ Queenie muttered in Vinny’s ear. They were currently in Newham General Hospital. Against all odds, Sammi-Lou had been resuscitated after her heart had stopped. However, the doctors weren’t overly hopeful of a full recovery, as her heart had stopped for a good few minutes.

‘I wanna go home. I need to phone Regan,’ Calum spat. His tears had turned to anger, and he hated the world.

‘I’ll ring Regan’s social worker in the morning. Once the authorities know what’s happened, they should allow him home,’ Vinny replied, rather coldly. He had never particularly been a granddad type. Pipe and slippers were not his style, and he’d tended to treat his grandsons like little mates. He remembered how he’d once ordered young Oliver to call him ‘Vinny’ rather than ‘Granddad’. How he wished he could change that now. Oliver could call him ‘Granddad’ every minute of every day, if only it would bring him back to life.

Queenie squeezed her eldest’s hand. Ava hadn’t wanted to come to the hospital, had chosen to go back to Albie’s house in Barking with Michael. No way would Queenie leave Vinny’s side though. She could see in his eyes how hard this had hit him, and even though she was still in a state of shock herself, she needed to remain strong. It was her duty as a mother.

‘Tell me again what the bastards said, Mum. See if you can remember the exact words this time.’

‘It was all such a blur, Vin, I really can’t think straight at the moment. But they definitely spoke with Turkish accents, and I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I heard them mention Ahmed’s name. They said something like “This is for Ahmed.” It was the one in the Bill Clinton mask, I think. No, it might’ve been the other one. So scary, those awful masks were. I thought they were armed robbers at first, I really did.’

‘I’ll find ’em and fucking make ’em wish they’d never been born, I promise you that much. When I get my hands on the bastards, I’ll—’

‘Shut up! Just fucking close that big mouth of yours for once, will ya?’ Little Vinny screamed, stopping his father mid-sentence. ‘My beautiful wife is fighting for her life. My son is dead. And all this is your fault. You playing the big man is what has brought on this tragedy in the first place. How dare you sit there, planning your revenge at a time like this? Piss off home, and take him with you an’ all,’ Little Vinny said, poking Calum on the arm. ‘None of yous are bothered about Sammi-Lou. All he’s bothered about is Regan. As for you and Nan, you’re two of a fucking kind. All you care about is each other.’

About to jump to his mother’s defence, Vinny Butler was stopped from doing so by the arrival of Sammi-Lou’s father. Vinny and Gary Allen had never seen eye to eye, and when Gary started insinuating that what had happened was his fault, instead of arguing the point, Vinny blanked the man and stood up. ‘Come on, Mum, and you, Calum. We’ll leave Sammi’s family in peace and pop back later.’

The last thing Vinny heard as he stomped down the corridor was the scathing comments from Gary Allen: ‘Leave us in peace! I’ve never had a decent night’s sleep since my Sammi became a Butler. A disaster waiting to happen, this was. And it isn’t your son’s fault, it’s yours.’

‘Don’t let him talk to you like that,’ Queenie hissed.

Unusually for Vinny, he chose to ignore his mother’s advice. Oliver was dead; Sammi-Lou, even if she did survive, would probably be brain-dead. So for once, Mouth Almighty Allen did have an extremely valid point.

Albie Butler was sitting in silence in his favourite armchair. It was full of cigarette burns, and worn out in places – and that’s exactly how Albie felt at this moment. Old, stained and faded. Albie had hoped, even prayed that the wonderful Vivian would get the send-off she truly deserved, but it wasn’t to be. Her funeral would go down in history for many years to come, but for all the wrong reasons.

Michael grabbed the brandy bottle and topped his father’s glass up, then his own. ‘You got any food in the fridge? You didn’t eat at the wake, did ya? I’ll make you something.’

‘I’m not hungry, lad. But thanks anyway. Be turning in her grave, will Vivvy, and truth be known I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this world, Michael. I’m tired, I’m old, and I want to see Vivvy again. And our Roy, Adam, Oliver, Brenda and Molly. Got more family up above now than down ’ere.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Your mum’s always blamed me for Molly’s death, seeing as it was my bastard son that did it. But I had nothing to do with the way he was brought up – I never even knew the kid existed. It wasn’t me that made him a killer. So I reckon your mother has far more blood on her hands than me. I’ve often wondered if Vinny was born evil, but I don’t believe he was. It’s your mother’s doing, the way he’s turned out. Queenie was determined to mould her first-born into a crime lord to match the bloody Krays. I remember how she used to look up to Violet Kray back in the day. She’d see the way shopkeepers would let Violet jump the queue and make a big fuss of her, how everyone kowtowed to her, and she was jealous. That’s what your mother craved: notoriety and adulation. And with no way of achieving that in her own right, she was determined yous boys would do it for her. It’s her that’s evil, boy, and she has blood all over her hands after today’s shambles. Lovely lad, our Oliver. What a waste of a bloody life. And I’ve always thought the world of Sammi-Lou. Why is it always the good ones that suffer and not the bad souls? The devil certainly looks after your mother and Vinny,’ Albie spat.

Shocked by the viciousness in his usually mild-mannered father’s words, Michael was taken aback. ‘Mum ain’t evil, Dad. She is what she is. Today wasn’t her doing. As for Vinny, we all know he’s got a streak, but he has calmed down of late. I bet he’s as shocked as anybody. Ahmed and Burak vanished years ago – why wait until Auntie Viv’s wake to turn up, hell-bent on revenge? It just doesn’t make sense.’

‘Of course it makes bleedin’ sense! They were gunning for your brother and, as per usual, he got away unharmed while others weren’t so lucky. How you can stick up for Vinny or your mother after that Bella turnout, I will never know. Your mother moulded Vinny into the money-grabbing power-loving fruitcake that he turned out to be, and Vinny chose to pal up with Ahmed in the first bloody place. Had he chosen his friends more wisely, Oliver would still be alive and Sammi-Lou would not be at death’s door. You need to wake up and smell the coffee, boy. The evil in this family will outlive you, if you’re not very careful. You mark my words.’

Head bowed, Eddie Mitchell felt desolate as he leaned against the wall and lit a cigar. Stuart’s motor was parked up in Stratford, but no way could he face travelling back to Essex in the vehicle the two of them had been laughing and joking in only this morning. He got all choked up just thinking about the way he’d been taking the piss out of his future son-in-law’s girly-looking air freshener and his rubbish taste in music.

‘I’m gonna have to get off in a bit, if that’s OK?’ Raymond stated and asked at the same time. His wife’s parents were coming over to theirs for dinner and Polly would have his guts for garters if he did not turn up. It was her mother’s birthday.

‘Yeah – you get off. And you, Gary,’ Eddie muttered. He’d originally met Stuart in prison. They’d shared a cell together and bonded almost instantly. Stu was far more than a pal or employee to Eddie. The lad was like another son to him.

‘I haven’t got to be anywhere. I’ll come to Frankie’s with you. Have you switched your phone back on yet? Frankie isn’t silly, ya know,’ Gary reminded his father.

‘I rang Joey. She’s been trying to ring me and Stu, but she don’t know anything yet. Joey took her out for something to eat, like I told him to. I couldn’t even tell him on the phone Stuart’s dead, so fuck knows how I’m gonna explain that to Frankie. She’s bound to blame me. So will Stu’s mum, I bet. Best I pluck up the courage to pay her a visit tomorrow an’ all. It’s what Stuart would’ve wanted me to do.’

Gary put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulders. Life had toughened him up to the point that not much fazed him these days. ‘Let’s call a cab, eh? I’ll do the talking when we get to Frankie’s. We need to be strong, Dad. Frankie’s gonna need us more than ever now. Poor little cow ain’t destined to find happiness, is she? Perhaps those bastard gypsies cursed her after all.’

Meg Allen darted along the hospital corridor with her youngest daughter by her side. She and Millie had been spending a relaxing day being pampered at an Essex health farm when Meg had checked her phone messages. Gary had left one, telling her there’d been an incident and she needed to make her way to the London Chest Hospital in Bethnal Green as soon as possible.

‘Whatever’s happened? And why haven’t you been answering your bloody phone? We’ve been worried sick,’ Meg Allen screamed at her husband. She and Millie had thought of every scenario possible and panicked throughout the journey. Meg had come to the conclusion her husband must have endured some kind of heart failure, but here he was, fully dressed, and apart from looking a bit peaky he seemed as right as rain.

Gary Allen was not a man who shed tears easily. Even when he’d buried his dear old mum last year, he’d managed to keep a stiff upper lip during his moving eulogy. However, Sammi-Lou was his first-born and he’d doted on her since day one. As for Oliver, unlike the other two horrors his daughter had given birth to, he truly was the perfect grandson. Gary had idolized the lad, even as a baby.

Having never seen her dad cry before, Millie was frightened. ‘Where’s Sammi-Lou and the boys? Is it Little Vinny? Has something bad happened to him?’

Gary Allen put one arm around his wife, and the other around his daughter. ‘There was a shooting at the wake. Two masked men burst in. Oliver didn’t make it, and Sammi-Lou is critical. Her heart stopped, and …’

Meg Allen pushed her husband away. ‘Oliver didn’t make what? A shooting at a wake! Where is Sammi now?’

‘Surely you don’t mean Oliver’s dead, Dad? That’s ridiculous. And Sammi’s heart can’t have stopped,’ Millie Allen shrieked.

When Little Vinny suddenly appeared, his white shirt covered in blood and a doctor in tow, the realization suddenly hit Meg and Millie Allen full in the face. It was then Meg became hysterical.

Frankie Mitchell wasn’t daft. She knew when Joey had turned up out of the blue earlier, demanding to take her and the kids out for something to eat, that her father must have told him to do so. No doubt her dad had enticed Stuart to get rat-arsed at the wake and now he was feeling guilty, trying to put her in a good mood so she wouldn’t bite Stuart’s head off when he rolled home. Or at least, that’s what she’d assumed.

‘No. Don’t put the TV on,’ Joey shouted, snatching the remote out of Brett’s hands.

‘But Mum says I’m old enough to watch The Simpsons now,’ Brett complained.

Frankie snatched the remote out of her brother’s hand. ‘You’ve been acting bloody weird ever since you got here. I reckoned Dad sent you because him and Stuart are bladdered, but you’re so twitchy it’s starting to freak me out. So come on, Joey, tell me: what’s going on?’

All Joey knew was that there had been a shooting at the funeral his father had attended, and Stuart had been wounded. When his dad had rung back again, about an hour or so ago, he’d offered no more information. His orders were to keep Frankie away from the TV and radio; Eddie promised he would explain all when he arrived at Frankie’s himself.

‘I’m not acting weird. It’s just me and Dom. He went mad when I told him I’m going to be working for Dad. Stormed out, and I think it’s all over between us, for good.’ Joey was telling the truth to a degree. Dominic had gone ballistic when he broke the news he was giving up his high-flying career as a broker to go and work for his father.

Harry nudged Georgie. In the travelling community, homosexuality was extremely frowned upon. Rumour had it that Old Man Macca’s grandson had been gay, and he’d disappeared without a trace. ‘Uncle Joey, can I ask you something? I know I don’t call Frankie muvver, but it’s OK to call you my uncle, ain’t it?’

Knowing whatever the horrible child said was bound to be crude and also a dig at him, Joey’s response was, ‘Call me whatever you like, Nephew.’

‘I wanna know if it hurts when Dom sticks his cory up your bum? Only, sometimes when I have a crap it’s painful – and that’s going out the normal way, ain’t it?’

Frankie was speechless for a moment, but when Georgie burst out laughing she turned on her children and yelled: ‘Get back upstairs now, the pair of ya. I’ve had enough of you two for one day and if you don’t get out of my sight, I’ll swing for you. No way are you going out with Calum again until you learn how to behave in the correct manner. And I bloody well mean that!’

Georgie giggled as she playfully pushed her brother up the stairs. ‘We’ll be nice to her tomorrow, behave ourselves. Bet she does let us see Calum.’

‘Yeah. The dinlo will fall for it an’ all, she’s that desperate,’ Harry grinned.

‘Mum, if Stuart doesn’t come home, can I sleep in your bed with you tonight?’ Brett asked Frankie. The last couple of mornings Harry had crept into his room and been really nasty to him before anybody else in the house had woken up.

‘Stuart will be coming home, love. But if Granddad has got him very drunk, we’ll make him sleep on the sofa, shall we?’ Frankie replied jovially. So far, Brett hadn’t picked up on the terrible sayings and language Georgie and Harry used, but Frankie was worried he would in the long run. Brett certainly wasn’t his usual self lately, and that did concern Frankie immensely. Her youngest had always been a bubbly little chap before Georgie and Harry came on the scene.

‘Nooooo,’ Joey yelled, snatching the remote off Frankie and turning off the TV the second she turned it on. His dad had said there was bound to be something about what had happened today on the news.

Frankie put her hands on her hips. ‘Right! Tell me the truth now. What the fuck is going on, Joey?’

The buzzer sounded in the nick of time. Joey Mitchell was relieved to fling open the front door and see his father and Gary step out of a black cab. He ran outside to greet them. ‘Frankie knows something’s up. Have they kept Stuart in hospital? He’s going to be OK, isn’t he?’

One look at his father and half-brother’s sombre expressions told Joey all he needed to know.

Minutes later, Frankie Mitchell’s screams of unbridled anguish could be heard half a mile away.