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OK, Mum?’ Vinny asked, clocking his mother staring at him.

      Queenie jumped out of the armchair and gestured to her eldest.

      Vinny followed his mum upstairs and sat awkwardly on the edge of her bed. ‘You’re not missing Dad, are you?’ he asked her.

      ‘You having a bleedin’ laugh, or what? Best Christmas I’ve ever had without that drunken old drop-out sitting in the chair scratching his cobblers.’

      Vinny chuckled.

      ‘What’s up, boy? You ain’t yourself today. Are you still annoyed with me and Vivvy for kicking up a stink in that café?’

      ‘Don’t be daft. I could never have the hump with you and Auntie Viv for long.’

      ‘Well, what is it then? Is it that man who died? You can’t blame yourself for that, Vinny. It was two against one, and you never meant to kill him. It was an accident, son.’

      Vinny took a deep breath. He had to tell somebody his little secret, and there was nobody in the world better to confide in than his beloved mother. ‘I’ve got a girl pregnant, and she wants to keep the baby,’ he blurted out.

      Queenie was momentarily stunned. Since that little slag Yvonne Summers had broken Vinny’s heart many years ago, she had never even known him to court again. ‘Who is she, boy? Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?’

      Vinny put his head in his hands and propped his elbows on his knees. ‘She ain’t my girlfriend, Mum. She is a pretty girl who works at the club who I’ve had a couple of flings with.’

      ‘Well, why didn’t you put a thingy on the end of it?’ Queenie asked, accusingly.

      ‘I did, well, apart from the once. What am I gonna do, Mum? I’ve offered her big bucks to get rid of the kid, but she knocked the dosh back.’

      Unable to stop herself, Queenie slapped her pride and joy around the face to bring him to his senses. ‘You will not kill my grandchild, Vinny. I will not allow that to happen.’

      ‘But, I don’t even like the girl, Mum. I ain’t getting lumbered with her for the rest of my life.’

      ‘Who is she? Is she a decent girl?

      Feeling more embarrassed than ever before, Vinny shook his head. ‘No, she’s a stripper.’

      Instead of scolding him for being stupid as her son expected her to, Queenie squeezed both of his hands and looked him in the eyes. ‘Buy the child off her, boy. Offer her what she wants to give birth to it, then I’ll bring it up for you.’

      Vinny was astounded by his mother’s strange suggestion. ‘I can’t do that, Mum. I’m only twenty and I don’t want no ties.’

      ‘It won’t be your tie, it’ll be mine. You listen to me, Vinny, and you listen good and proper. You need something in your life to calm that temper of yours down. Being a father will save you from going to prison, I guarantee that. God works in mysterious ways, and this will prove to be your saviour, I just know it will. Look how good you are with kids. Lenny worships the ground you walk on, so imagine having a little Champ running around who is actually your own. You can’t murder your own child, boy. That baby will be my first grandchild and I would never forgive you if you took that away from me.’

      Not wanting to admit to his mum that he had thought about bumping off Karen and the baby by drowning them in the Thames, Vinny suddenly felt a surge of guilt and had tears in his eyes.

      ‘Don’t get upset, boy. Everything will be all right, your mum will make sure of that,’ Queenie said, cradling him to her chest.

      Vinny quickly pulled himself together. His mother was never wrong. Whatever advice she had ever given him in the past had always been proven as sound, so why should he doubt her wisdom this time round?

      ‘Well? What you gonna do?’ Queenie asked.

      Vinny smiled at her. ‘I will sort out a deal with Karen and then we will bring up my baby together, Mum.’

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      Summer 1971

      Nancy Walker felt a surge of excitement as she took in the electric atmosphere of the funfair. The waft of fried onions hung heavily in the air, music was being played at full blast, and the sound of laughter was prominent wherever you walked. Nancy’s dad had never allowed her go to the fair with just a friend before. He said the rides were run by gypsies and they preyed on innocent young girls like herself. It had been her mum who had come up trumps for her in the end. She had argued that now Nancy was sixteen and in full-time employment, she was old enough to make her own decisions.

      ‘I just love the smell of fairgrounds, don’t you?’ Nancy said to her best friend, Rhonda Gibbs. Nancy had met Rhonda soon after her family had moved to Ilford from Whitechapel. They had been in the same class at school, and were rarely seen out and about without one another now. They even had jobs working side by side in their local Woolworth’s store.

      ‘Yep. I love the smell too. Shall we get some candy floss? Or a toffee apple?’ Rhonda suggested.

      Nancy giggled. ‘We have come over here to see if we can find the men of our dreams, Rhon. Candy floss and toffee apples are hardly man magnets. If we are munching on them, we are gonna look like kids.’

      ‘But you’ve already found the man of your dreams. You’ve got Roger,’ Rhonda joked.

      Nancy punched her pal playfully on the arm. Roger Robins was the son of her parents’ friends, Margaret and Derrick. At twenty-one, Roger worked for a branch of Barclays Bank in London. On numerous occasions, he had invited Nancy to go dancing or to the pictures, but much to her parents’ dismay, Nancy had politely declined.

      With her size-eight figure, ample breasts, and long blonde hair, Nancy wanted a bit more out of life than boring Roger. The pop star Marc Bolan was Nancy’s perfect vision of a man. Marc was wild, cool and handsome, everything that Roger wasn’t. Nancy liked excitement and she would rather entertain a bad boy any day of the week than date some complete and utter bore.

      ‘Wow! He’s nice,’ Rhonda exclaimed.

      ‘Which one?’

      ‘He’s got shoulder-length dark hair and is standing by the coconut shy with a group of lads.’

      Nancy surreptitiously glanced around. ‘All of them have shoulder-length dark hair. What’s he wearing?’

      ‘A cream flowery-patterned shirt and brown flared trousers.’

      Fashion had changed immensely since the sixties when drainpipe trousers and button-collared shirts had been all the rage for young men. The Mod era had also now come to an end and the hippy look had taken over as the new trend. Spotting the guy who Rhonda had referred to, Nancy screwed her face up. ‘Nah. His nose is too big for his face, Rhon. You know I have a thing about little button noses.’

      Hearing the current song by Middle of the Road being blasted out of the speakers on a nearby ride, both girls linked arms. Giggling, because they were aware that the group of boys were now watching them, Nancy and Rhonda began wiggling their hips and singing the words to ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’.

      Vinny and Queenie Butler smiled proudly at one another as Little Vinny put on his boxing gloves and started to spar with his Uncle Roy. Roy was kneeling on the carpet and when his nephew caught him on the chin, Roy fell backwards to pretend he had been knocked out cold.

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