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Vinny is bound to tell Ben Bloggs, and I don’t want him telling his whore of a mother or thieving old gran.’

      ‘Calm down, Mum. Nobody will know bar me, you and Michael, I promise.’

      Queenie didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the object on her front lawn. ‘What’s that, Vinny? Is it more flowers?’

      Vinny could see better in the dark than his mother and he saw that the flowers were shaped in what looked like a gun. ‘Yeah, it’s flowers. Somebody must have got the day wrong. You go inside and put the kettle on, Mum. I’ll bring these in.’

      He went to the arrangement and crouched down, his heart beating faster than its usual pace. The flowers were a mixture of red and white, which his mum hated. She always said it was the sign of blood and bandages and swore it was unlucky. The flowers were made up in the shape of a pistol and Vinny looked at the attached card with trepidation. He was right to be wary. The words read ‘YOU ARE NEXT’.

      ‘What you doing out there, Vinny?’ Queenie shouted from the house.

      Vinny hurriedly stuffed the flowers in the boot of his car, then darted inside the house. ‘The flowers aren’t for us, Mum. They were delivered to the wrong street. I’m going to drop them off at the right address on the way home.’

      ‘Thank Christ for that! They looked red and white. That’s all we need – more bad luck.’

      He tried not to let on, but Vinny was feeling physically sick. Because the flowers had been left on his mother’s front lawn it was hard to say whether the message was meant for her or for him. Ahmed popped into his mind, but Vinny quickly dismissed the thought. Even though Ahmed had forgiven him a bit too easily for his liking, he was sure that a stunt like this was not his pal’s style. If Ahmed planned to harm him, he certainly wouldn’t be issuing any warnings. Perhaps Bobby Jackson had sent them? But Vinny doubted it, given the damage he’d done to Bobby’s face and his threat to kill him. Jackson was a mouthy, gutless piece of shit just like his father had been. The only other suspect Vinny could think of offhand was Johnny Preston. The fact he was in prison wouldn’t have stopped him asking somebody to send the flowers, especially once he’d found out Joanna was pregnant. Well tomorrow Vinny would visit every florist in the vicinity to try and find out who the culprit was.

      ‘What’s the matter with you? Been struck dumb?’

      Vinny recovered himself and fished in his pocket. ‘No. I have something for you, Mum. You’ve had so much on your plate, I thought I’d wait until after the funeral to give it to you.’ He produced a white envelope and handed it to her.

      ‘Who’s it from?’

      ‘It’s from Roy, Mum.’

      Unaware that he was currently on Vinny Butler’s mind, Johnny Preston sat down opposite his ex-wife in the visiting room. Deborah hadn’t changed her name after their divorce, which was just as well as Johnny had recently proposed again, and she had accepted. ‘How’s things, love? Did you hear from Jo?’

      Deborah felt sick with worry. Johnny had been adamant that Joanna would ring home on her eighteenth birthday, and he had been right. Now all she had to do was break the awful news to him.

      ‘Well?’ Johnny asked, his voice overloaded with impatience.

      ‘Yes, Jo rang me, Johnny. She said she missed us both and wanted to build bridges.’

      Johnny grinned. ‘Well, that’s a start, ain’t it? Before you know it, she’ll see that no good prick for what he really is, Deb.’

      Deborah squeezed the hands of the man she loved so very much. Johnny had once been a South London gangster, was in the know, so would hear the news anyway. Surely, it was kinder and better coming from her? ‘John, love … Jo’s pregnant.’

      The breakfast in the Scrubs wasn’t the best and Johnny immediately felt his rise to the back of his throat. Moments later, he was violently sick.

      Michael Butler was doing his best to tidy up in preparation for Nancy’s homecoming when the doorbell rang.

      ‘Dad, it’s Uncle Vinny,’ Lee shouted out.

      ‘What’s up?’ Michael asked. It was unusual for Vinny to turn up at his house without prior warning.

      Vinny gesticulated for Michael to follow him outside. ‘I didn’t want to speak on the phone for obvious reasons. But I thought you should know that the van’s been found.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘I caught the back end of a news bulletin. We picked a good spot there as the farmer only discovered it yesterday morning. Try not to worry because even if Trevor has been reported missing, no way will the Old Bill be able to confirm it’s him after my dentistry work. I used gallons of petrol and all that will be left of the cunt is his ashes and some fragments of bone,’ Vinny chuckled.

      ‘It ain’t no laughing matter, Vin. Say the Old Bill do come sniffing around?’

      ‘And why would they do that? Nobody bar me or you knows that we were watching Trevor’s movements and there’s sod all to link us to East Hanningfield. Stop panicking, for Christ’s sake, Michael. As I’ve said all along, the filth will not be able to identify Trevor, you mark my words.’

      When Bobby Jackson strolled into the Blind Beggar, the pub immediately fell silent. Most of the customers had gone to Roy and Lenny’s funeral, then the wake afterwards, and the few that had not were well aware of Bobby being dragged out of the club by Vinny. News tended to spread like wildfire in Whitechapel, especially when the Butlers were involved.

      ‘What you lot staring at? Haven’t you ever seen stitches before?’ Bobby shouted out, before marching over to the corner of the bar where his pal Micky was.

      ‘Jesus, Bob. That’s gonna be some scar you’re left with there. I heard what happened. Whatever possessed you to set foot inside the Butlers’ club?’

      ‘I was pissed and the door was open. Unlike you and most of the mugs round here, I ain’t frightened of the Butlers. Fronted Vinny outside, I did. Called him every name under the sun and I told him I knew he’d done my old man in,’ Bobby exaggerated.

      ‘How many stitches you had?’ Micky shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a death wish at times, mate.’

      ‘Thirty-odd – and don’t you be worrying about me, Mick. I’ll strike one day and when I do that cunt Vinny won’t know what’s hit him. He’ll get his comeuppance, you wait and see.’

      Queenie waited until Brenda, Tara and Little Vinny had gone to bed before she sat down and opened Roy’s letter. She had honestly thought her son had left this world without saying a proper goodbye to her and was so chuffed to discover that he hadn’t. Taking a sip of her sherry and a deep breath, Queenie rested her eyes on the page.

      Dear Mum

      I know if you are reading this letter then my plan and wish to die have been successful. I must explain why I did what I did, and I pray that you will understand.

      I could never cope with being confined to a wheelchair from day one, and being paralysed down one side of my body was so awful. Even my face looked terrible where my mouth had dropped and I felt like a freak.

      It made me bitter and I know I was nasty to people. Often in the night, I would dream of working at the club and being the man I used to be, then I would wake up and remember that I would never be that man again …

      Queenie put the letter on the arm of the sofa. Her tears were dripping onto it, and she didn’t want it ruined. She wanted to treasure it for ever.

      Five minutes and another sherry later, she found the strength to continue reading.

      You were so lovely and kind every time you came to see me, Mum, and so was Auntie Viv. You deserved so much better than spending the rest of your lives worrying about and visiting some miserable bastard like me. Colleen and Emily-Mae both deserved more too, which is why

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