CHAPTER SEVEN

      Queenie spent the morning of her birthday putting up her Christmas tree and decorations. Vinnie had organised a small party for her at the club later, which had been Lenny’s idea.

      ‘What you doing now, Mum?’ Brenda asked, when her mother climbed up the stepladder.

      ‘Putting these paper chains across the ceiling to make it look a bit more festive.’

      ‘Mum, you know your birthday party?’

      Securing the paper chain with two drawing pins, Queenie stepped down from the ladder. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Would it be OK if I invited my friend Nancy?’ Brenda asked hopefully.

      Queenie smiled. ‘Of course you can, angel. You’d best invite her little brother as well though. You can’t invite one without the other.’

      Over at the club, Vinny had been up since dawn getting things ready for his mum’s birthday party. ‘About fucking time you showed your face and I hope you’ve got rid of that slag,’ Vinny said as his brother appeared looking dishevelled.

      Roy sighed. He didn’t often allow birds to stay upstairs in his bed. Once or twice a month, top whack. Yet every time he did so, Vinny would always have something to say about it. Deciding to stand up to his brother for once, Roy glared at him. ‘The slag as you so politely called her went home a couple of hours ago. What is your problem, Vin? I’m a single eighteen-year-old fella, so why is it a crime for me to get me nuts in here and there?’

      ‘No-one said it was a crime, Roy, but you knew how important it was to me that we made Mum’s birthday special this year. After all the shit she has been through recently, don’t you think she deserves to be treated like the Queen?’

      ‘Of course I do.’

      ‘Grab hold of the end of that banner. I want to put it on the wall facing the door,’ Vinny said.

      ‘Where’s Michael?’ Roy asked.

      ‘You tell me. Went to some silly Mod party after we let him leave early last night. He’s probably still under the covers with some slag as well.’

      ‘What time is Mum’s present arriving?’ Roy was desperate to change the subject.

      ‘Twelve on the dot and we need to be there to see her face when she sees it, which is why I needed you to get your arse out of bed early today.’

      ‘Look, I’m sorry. But please, can we just forget about this now, Vin? We don’t wanna spoil Mum’s party, do we?’

      ‘Yep, let’s forget about it, but in future, Roy, business and family before pleasure, eh?’

      Roy nodded. ‘Of course.’

      Johnny Preston was not a happy chappie. Vinny Butler ran the firm, the other brothers were nobodies compared to him, everybody knew that, yet catching Vinny on his own was proving to be a difficult task.

      ‘Can’t we just confront Vinny and Roy? We can take the pair of them on,’ Dave Phillips suggested.

      ‘Nope. I only deal with the organ grinder. No point involving the monkey. We’ll get him on his own, Dave. Patience is a virtue,’ Johnny replied as he drove past the club. ‘I wonder what’s going on in there? There’s a bird turned up with balloons now. Perhaps it’s his mummy’s birthday and the incestuous freak is throwing her a party.’

      ‘He reminds me of that geezer in the film Psycho, but I can’t remember his name,’ Dave added.

      Johnny burst out laughing. ‘Great call, me ole cocker. Vinny Butler, the East End’s answer to Norman Bates.’

      Mary was busy wiping down the tables when young Brenda wandered into the café. ‘Hello, love. Nancy’s upstairs with Christopher. Pop up and see her if you like.’

      When Brenda ran up the stairs, Mary went into the kitchen to remind her husband of the conversation they’d had the other day.

      ‘Don’t worry. I won’t say anything rude to the awful child,’ Donald said cuttingly.

      ‘Mum, Dad.’ Nancy ran into the kitchen with Christopher and Brenda by her side.

      Noticing that her daughter’s eyes were shining with excitement, Mary smiled. ‘What is it? Do you want to go out to play?’

      ‘No. I’ve been invited to a party and so has Christopher. It’s Brenda’s mum’s birthday.’

      Donald frowned. If it was Queenie Butler’s birthday party then her sons were bound to attend and there was no way his daughter and son were mixing with that motley crew. ‘You and Christopher are far too young to be attending adult parties, Nancy. I’m sorry, but I will not allow you to go.’

      ‘Oh, please, Dad,’ Nancy begged, her lip trembling. She wanted to cry but didn’t want to make a show of herself in front of Brenda.

      Mary glared at her husband and then turned back to her distraught daughter. ‘Where is the party, love? And what time is it? You’re too young to be out late at night.’

      ‘It’s not at night, Mrs Walker. It’s being held this afternoon in my brother’s snooker club. My brother says it has to end by teatime because he has to open the club to his punters of an evening,’ Brenda explained.

      Donald sneered at Brenda’s use of the word punters. She sounded like a docker or a navvy. Her speech was so unfeminine for a little girl.

      ‘I think it’s OK for Nancy and Christopher to go to the party, Donald, as long as they are back here by six, don’t you? The snooker club is only around the corner, isn’t it?’ Mary said, giving her husband the evil eye.

      ‘Yesss! I love parties,’ Christopher shouted, clapping his hands with sheer delight.

      Nancy was thrilled by her mum’s remarks and both girls jumped up and down with glee.

      With a face like a smacked arse, Donald glanced at his wife, then his children. ‘Do whatever you bloody well like,’ he spat.

      Queenie and Vivian glanced at one another in amazement as the two delivery men brought a big wooden object inside.

      ‘Aw, Queenie, ain’t it grand? It’s one of them posh radiograms,’ Vivian whispered in her sister’s ear.

      ‘But we ain’t got no records to play on it,’ Queenie whispered back. Her only access to music was the radio she had in the kitchen.

      After thanking the delivery men, Roy walked into the lounge with a cardboard box. ‘Put one on, Vin,’ he ordered his brother.

      When the tones of Mrs Mills blasted out of the speakers, Queenie and Vivian looked at one another in delight.

      ‘Oh, ain’t it wonderful,’ Vivian said, grinning at her sister.

      ‘Bloody amazing,’ Queenie replied. No longer did she have to put up with Albie and scrub his skid-marked pants until her hands bled so that when she put them on the washing line the neighbours wouldn’t think they were a dirty family. Instead, she had a fabulous radiogram with Mrs Mills’ LPs to entertain her and Vivian on these cold winter nights. Queenie stood up, put one arm around Vinny’s neck and the other around Roy’s. ‘Thank you so much, boys. Not just for the radiogram, I mean for everything.’

      Queenie Butler felt like the luckiest mum in the world when she walked into the club and saw the effort her wonderful sons had gone to on her behalf. There was a big banner wishing her a happy birthday, balloons, a buffet, a DJ, and most importantly friends and family members. ‘Aw, this is wonderful, boys,’ Queenie said, grinning at each of her three sons in turn.

      Vinny