Roy smiled. He was over the moon that a deal had finally been agreed for the snooker club. That miserable old bastard Dick had been asking four grand for it, but after a visit from the Kelly brothers had dropped his price to two and a half. Tomorrow they were picking the keys up and Vinny was also picking the keys up for the house next-door-but-one for their aunt. Vinny had somehow wangled that one on his own.

‘Tell ’em about Lucy,’ urged Viv.

Queenie ordered Lenny and Brenda to play outside again, then explained to her eldest two what Peter had done to Lucy.

‘Fucking nonce,’ spat Roy.

‘That boy needs to be dealt with once and for all, Vinny. He gives me and Viv the willies when he leers at us in the cafe. As Viv said, it’s only a matter of time before he murders a little girl.’ Queenie purposely didn’t mention the word rape.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. Peter will be dealt with good and proper this time. He’s had his warning. I can assure you, by the time me and Roy have finished with him, he won’t be noncing no other girls.’

‘Good,’ said Viv.

Queenie smiled. ‘That’s my boy.’

Later that evening, Queenie lay in bed unable to get June Tarbuck’s haunted face out of her head.

She got up, put her hand inside her mattress and took out the envelope with the four hundred quid Patrick O’Leary had made her keep. Patrick hadn’t wanted to take back any of the money she’d borrowed, he’d said it was a gift, but Queenie wasn’t a ponce and after a playful argument, she’d paid him back only half the money.

Queenie opened her handbag and took out a pen.

To June

A little something to help you settle into your new home.

X

She knew June was skint, but didn’t want the woman to know it was from her. She might see it as guilt money.

Queenie put her coat on over her nightdress, slipped her shoes on and walked down the road. There wasn’t a soul about, it was nearly 3 a.m.

Lifting June’s letterbox so it wouldn’t make a noise, Queenie popped the envelope through and walked away feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders. Giving June that money was the least she could do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Vinny was with Roy, chomping on a bacon sandwich, when Harry Mitchell and his sons sauntered in the cafe. The Mitchells were out of Canning Town, another firm with a good name, who had their fingers in many pies.

Vinny nudged Roy, leapt up and shook hands with Harry, Ronnie, Paulie and Eddie. Roy then did the same.

The sons plonked themselves down on the next table while their dad ordered their grub. ‘So what brings you out to our neck of the woods?’ enquired Eddie.

‘Don’t worry. We ain’t nicking any of your boozers,’ Vinny laughed. ‘Me and Roy have been to see a pal of mine, Nick. We got a bit of business he’s interested in.’ It was common knowledge that the Mitchells ran a pub protection racket in their area.