CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      After a sleepless night in which she must have finally dozed off for an hour or two, Brenda woke up feeling nauseous then dashed to the toilet to be violently sick. When she opened the bathroom door planning to crawl back to bed, she was confronted with her mum leaning against the wall outside, her face like thunder.

      ‘I think me and you need to have a little chat, young lady, don’t you?’ Queenie said, folding her arms in a stern manner.

      Brenda nodded sheepishly, then promptly burst into tears.

      ‘No point bastard-well crying after the horse has bolted, Bren, and don’t lie to me ’cause I know all the signs. Now, who is the fucking father?’ Queenie spat.

      ‘If I tell you, will you promise me you won’t tell my brothers? It wasn’t a fling, Mum. I’m not a slag. He was my boyfriend,’ Brenda wept.

      Queenie was struggling to hold her temper, but knew she had to get the important information out of Brenda before she let fly at her. ‘Just tell me who he is, love, then we’ll sort it out from there.’

      Relieved that her mother seemed to be taking the news so well, Brenda decided to come clean. ‘It’s Dean. Dean Smart. I haven’t told him yet. He dumped me for another girl last month,’ she admitted.

      At the mention of the surname Smart, Queenie felt her pulse-rate shoot through the roof. Unable to stop herself, she let her hands do the talking with repetitive slaps. ‘You stupid little fucker! How could you even think of getting involved with a Smart when you know how much this family hates that revolting mob? You ain’t a true Butler, girl. We are loyal to the core, but not you, you take after that shitbag of a father of yours. Now, get in your bedroom, before I kick you from arsehole to breakfast time.’

      Feeling incredibly sorry for herself, Brenda let out a loud wail and did exactly as she was told.

      Because he worked nights and there was no way he could invite Nancy to his club now, Michael had devised a rota where he got to spend a few hours with her every day. Firstly, he would meet her at work and spend her lunch break with her. Then, he would pick her up when she had finished, so he managed to grab a couple of hours with her before he started work.

      Because it was stifling hot, instead of going to the café like they usually did, Michael had made a packed lunch so they could sit in the sun and eat it.

      ‘Are you OK? You’re not your usual chatterbox self,’ Nancy remarked, holding Michael’s arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

      Michael put down his sandwich and kissed his girlfriend on the lips. ‘I’m OK, babe. Just got one or two things on my mind.’

      ‘What? You’re not having second thoughts about us, are you?’

      ‘Don’t be daft. I’m not worried about us, babe. It’s my dad.’

      Nancy listened intently while Michael explained about his dad turning up at the club, his illness, and the fall-out between Albie and the rest of the family. ‘You have to forgive your dad, Michael, and visit him. Why don’t you go and see your mum on your own, tell her how you are really feeling. I’m sure she will listen to you,’ Nancy advised.

      Amazed by his girlfriend’s maturity and thoughtfulness, Michael put both arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. Nancy was the girl for him, he was sure of it.

      When their mum rang up the club and summoned them to get to her house as soon as possible, Vinny and Roy guessed she had come to a decision about whether she was going to allow their father back into their lives, or not.

      ‘I’m glad you made your mind up quickly, Mum. It’s this afternoon I told him to ring back,’ Roy said, walking into the lounge.

      Queenie looked confused. ‘What the bleedin’ hell you going on about?’

      ‘Me dad,’ Roy replied.

      ‘Oh, I ain’t even had time to think about that old goat yet. We’ve got far more on our plates than him to worry about at the moment, ain’t we, Viv? Lenny, take Little Vinny out to play,’ Queenie ordered.

      When her sulky nephew had stomped out of the house dragging her grandson behind him, Queenie ordered her sons to sit down on the sofa. ‘It’s your sister. She’s got herself in the family way,’ she explained bluntly.

      ‘She’s fucking what? Where is she? I’ll kill her,’ Vinny said, leaping up like a jack-in-the-box.

      ‘No, you won’t. You leave her to me. I need yous boys to deal with the little bastard who has sewn his seed in her. Can you do that for me?’

      ‘Who is he, Mum? We’ll sort it,’ Roy said.

      ‘Well, you ain’t gonna like this but she is up the spout by Mad Freda’s grandson, Dean. She ain’t even with him now, but reckons she was in a relationship with him. He don’t know she’s in the club. Dumped our Bren last month in favour of another girl, apparently.’

      ‘Did he really? Well, me and Vin will have to pay him a little visit, won’t we, bruv?’ Roy said.

      Vinny was deep in thought. Terry Smart hated him with a passion, so did his old bat of a mother. Neither would be happy if he visited young Dean and forced him to make an honest woman out of his sister. That would be the payback of all paybacks.

      ‘I hope you give him a bloody good hiding, boys. She can’t have the baby. Not by a Smart,’ Vivian declared.

      ‘Well, I ain’t having my grandchild aborted,’ Queenie argued, glaring at her sister.

      ‘Bren can’t keep a Smart baby, can she, Vin?’ Roy urged, wishing his brother would have a bit more input into the conversation. Apart from proposing to Colleen, Roy had always been indecisive when making big decisions.

      Vinny smiled. He had heard good things about young Dean Smart. The lad might only be eighteen, but he had recently got away with a robbery at a post office at Stratford, so for someone so young, Dean was obviously no man’s fool. Brenda wasn’t the brightest bird on earth and she could do a lot worse than Dean. Pissing off Terry and Freda in the process was just an added bonus. It was a case of every cloud having a silver lining. ‘I’ll go and speak to young Dean. He’ll stand by our Bren and make an honest woman of her, I’ll make sure of it.’

      Roy was furious. ‘You can’t marry her off to a Smart.’

      Vinny stared at his mother and aunt. There seemed to be no further objections from either of them, so he continued. ‘Oh, yes I can. Our Bren will not darken the name of this family. If she’s old enough to hawk her mutton and get herself in the family way, then she’s old enough to be married. Brenda has made her own bed, and now she can fucking well lie on it.’

      Unaware of the drama unfolding less than five minutes away, Albie was currently enjoying a pint in his old local, the Blind Beggar. The pub hadn’t changed that much since his last visit, and even though there were quite a lot of new faces dotted about, there were still a few of the old regulars too.

      ‘Christ almighty! Albie Butler, I thought that was you. Blimey, it’s been years since I’ve seen you around this neck of the woods. How you doing?’ Big Stan asked, plonking himself on the seat next to Albie.

      Albie put down his Sporting Life. Big Stan only lived five doors away from Queenie, so Albie had no alternative but to tell him about his cancer.

      ‘Crikey, that’s awful, mate. Can they cure it, like?’ Big Stan asked.

      Feeling a tad guilty at Stan’s obvious concern, Albie shook his head. Part of him wished that he hadn’t made up such an awful lie,