‘I do. I saved you some sprats, ya know. Why don’t you fry those while I tell the boys a story to send ’em to sleep? Me and you can sleep in your mum’s room tonight, if you like? Then tomorrow, I’ll move the boys in there.’

Albie held Queenie close to his chest. ‘That’s my girl.’

PART FOUR

‘Men are what their mothers made them’

Ralph Waldo Emerson

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Six Years Later

‘Once upon a time in the East End of London there were three brothers. But they weren’t like other boys, they were special boys. Very special indeed.’

‘Does Vinny become king, Mum?’

‘Listen carefully and you’ll find out,’ I smiled. Vinny was getting a bit old for the jungle stories now, so I was making up new ones.

‘Are their names Vinny, Roy and Michael, Mum?’ asked Roy.

‘Yep,’ I told him. ‘Vinny’s the oldest, Roy the middle son and Michael the youngest. But they’re very close. They knock around together and watch one another’s backs. That’s why they’re destined to become very successful in life, ’cause if brothers stick together, they become a force to be reckoned with.’

‘Do they become rich, Mum?’ asked Vinny.

‘Yeah. But only because they work hard and work together. They don’t take no crap off anybody either. If a lad punches them, they punch him back twice as hard. They never hit girls though, ’cause that’s wrong, ain’t it?’

‘Yeah, ’cause girls are weak,’ said Vinny.

‘Not all girls are weak,’ I laughed. ‘Mummy was a little girl once and she don’t take no crap off anyone, does she?’

‘How do they become rich?’ asked Roy.

‘They look out for good opportunities and when they’re older they wear the finest suits and polished shoes. Always remember appearance means everything. First impressions do count and if you wanna be someone in life, you gotta look and act the part, haven’t you?’

‘Will they be rich enough to buy themselves a bike each?’ enquired Michael.

I chuckled. ‘They’ll be that rich they can buy themselves anything they want. Flash cars, even a castle out in Essex.’

‘I wanna be king of the castle, Mum,’ Vinny smiled.

I stroked my eldest’s cheek. ‘You will be king of the castle as long as you do as your mum says. Right, go to sleep now. Lights out.’

‘But you ain’t told us the rest of the story,’ complained Roy.

‘I’ll tell you the next part tomorrow.’

‘Night, Mum.’

I kissed my three little princes and shut their bedroom door. One day they would be kings, in some way, shape or form. I would make damn sure of that.

Spring 1954

‘Sing to me, Daddy,’ ordered young Michael Butler.

Albie picked up his youngest son and sang ‘When Father Papered the Parlour’. Michael was a bright kid for four and truly was Albie’s little ray of sunshine. He loved all his sons equally, of course, but had a special bond with Michael as he was thankfully a ‘Daddy’s boy’. The other two doted on Queenie, Vinny especially.