‘A little birdy tells me you’ve bought the snooker club just off Whitechapel High Road,’ Eddie smirked.

‘Jesus wept! Good news travels fast, eh Roy? We ain’t even picked the keys up yet.’

‘Whaddya plan on doing with it?’ grunted Ronnie.

Vinny liked Ronnie the least out of the Mitchell family. He was a known pisshead and had a reputation for being a pain in the arse. Eddie was the youngest out of the three brothers and, in Vinny’s opinion, was more savvy than the other two put together. Vinny explained his and Roy’s plans for the club, but not in huge detail.

‘Cushty. You need any protection, you know where to come,’ sneered Ronnie. He didn’t like Vinny Butler, saw him as a kid who was becoming far too big for his boots.

‘How’s your mum doing, Vin?’ Eddie didn’t particularly know Queenie, but knew how close Vinny was to her. His own mum had unfortunately died when he was young.

‘Yeah, Mum’s good, thanks. Me old man don’t change, mind. Still a drunken tosspot.’ The dig was actually aimed at Ronnie. Vinny could tell he didn’t like him.

‘Nothing wrong with letting your hair down, cocker,’ snapped Ronnie. ‘You should try it sometime. I often see your old man in a boozer I drink in with his fancy piece, the lovely Maureen. Looks as happy as Larry to me.’

‘Shut it, mouth almighty,’ hissed Eddie.

Vinny stared Ronnie in his gloating eyes and leaned forward. ‘Tell me more about my father and the lovely Maureen, please. In fact, tell me all you fucking know.’

Queenie travelled, deep in thought, to her employers’ house for the very last time.

Pearl and Basil had been livid when they’d returned from holiday that time to find their safe ripped open and their beloved home ransacked. Queenie had worked round there the following Monday and Pearl was literally spitting feathers. ‘Cockerknee scum! If I get my hands on those thieving toerags, I will chop their fucking hands off,’ she’d raged.

How Queenie hadn’t laughed that day she would never know, especially when she’d seen the Chesterfield furniture Pearl had only recently bought, slashed to pieces. Her boys had even slashed up Basil’s reading chair. Talk about do her proud!

Queenie was never suspected of having anything to do with the break-in. Pearl had no idea what her beloved sons were capable of. Queenie doubted she even knew their names. Vinny insisted a few months later that she give up her job, but Queenie decided to stick with it. She didn’t want to ponce off her boys, liked to earn her own money.

Just lately, things had changed, though. Working for Pearl had become even more unbearable since her awful mother had moved in with her. The posh old hag treated Queenie like a slave rather than a cleaner. The batty cow literally followed her around the house barking out her orders, screaming this and that hadn’t been cleaned properly.

‘You’re quiet. Not having second thoughts are you, Queen?’ asked Viv.