Kimberley Chambers - Payback

Mary stopped chewing her food. Nancy and Christopher had always been so close as children, but not any more.

‘You’ve got more front than British Home Stores, Nancy. How dare you comment on my life when you’ve made such a mess of your own? You should think yourself lucky you have a roof over your head, after the way you’ve treated us in the past, eh, Dad?’

‘Your brother is right, Nancy. He’ll have plenty of time to charm the ladies once his probation period has finished. His career should come before anything else, and if he stays focused, he will climb that ladder to the very top,’ agreed Donald.

‘And when I get to the top, I shall arrest all the scumbags in this world, like your husband and his family,’ Christopher added.

Nancy stood up.

‘Where are you going, love? Sit back down and eat your dinner,’ Mary urged.

‘I’m going to ring Michael. We had a heart-to-heart the other day and he told me a few home truths. He said the boys were unsettled and I should be back at home taking care of them. He’s right, Mum. My sons need me and I can’t stay here for ever.’

‘But I thought you’d left Michael for good?’ Donald queried.

‘I never said that, Dad. All I said was I wanted a break from him to sort my own head and problems out. It isn’t Michael’s fault that I’ve suffered from depression. He has always been a good husband. I shall make sure I bring the boys to visit you regularly, if that’s OK?’

Donald would have been more inclined to argue with Nancy’s decision had it not been for his grandsons. Since meeting Daniel and Adam, Donald had felt so much happier in himself, and he couldn’t wait to spend more time with them.

‘Once a gangster’s moll, always a gangster’s moll,’ Christopher said cockily.

‘Shut up, you,’ Mary ordered her son. She then turned to Nancy. ‘Go and ring him then, love. You owe it to them boys to make your marriage work, and I’m sure now you’re feeling better, it will.’

Queenie Butler sat down next to her sister’s bed and squeezed her hand. The quick reaction by medical staff, plus the help of a stomach pump had saved Vivian’s life.

‘Why isn’t she talking to us, Mum?’ Brenda asked.

‘Because she’s ill, that’s why. Now, I reckon you should take Tara home, Bren. She’s obviously bored and I don’t need her whinging around me. I doubt Viv does either. Go on, off you go.’

As Brenda left the small ward, Dr Baker walked in. ‘I got here as soon as I could. Sorry to hear about what happened. How is our lovely patient?’

Vinny led the family GP outside and gave him a rundown of his aunt’s recent behaviour. He then begged the doctor to prescribe some stronger drugs.

‘I’ll be honest with you, Vinny, nothing I can prescribe is going to work. Your aunt has suffered a mental breakdown due to grief. She needs professional help of the twenty-four-hour kind.’

‘What you trying to say? I ain’t having her put in no loony bin, if that’s what you mean.’

‘A “loony bin”, as you so politely put it, is the only place where your aunt is going to get the correct help for her condition. If she returns home in her current mental state, what’s to say that she won’t make another attempt to take her own life?’

‘Me and Mum will look after her.’

‘Oh, don’t be daft, Vinny. You have a club to run, and if your mother takes on the burden of watching over Viv day and night, then she might end up suffering a breakdown herself. She’s grieving too, the poor woman. I’m sorry to be brutal with you, but I insist your aunt be hospitalized. I am very fond of Vivian and I would never forgive myself if I sanctioned her as well enough to go home, then disaster struck. My conscience won’t allow it.’

Reluctantly, Vinny agreed with the doctor. His mum wasn’t going to be happy, but he would break the news to her gently. Vivian’s welfare must come first.

Michael put the phone down and walked into the lounge. All three of his sons were giggling away at the Muppet Show .

‘Look, Daddy, look,’ Adam urged, pointing at the TV.

Michael grinned. Lee had settled in exceptionally well and he was thrilled by how close the three boys had become. ‘Guess who’s coming home tomorrow?’

Daniel shrugged.

‘Well, come on, guess,’ Michael urged.

‘Mummy?’ Daniel asked.

‘Yep. Are you looking forward to Mummy living with us again?’

When neither Adam nor Lee replied, Daniel thought that it was his duty to do so. He had missed his mum when she had first gone away, but that feeling had now worn off. His mum always seemed to be screaming or crying and he’d come to prefer the house without her. ‘Suppose so, Dad.’

Queenie cried when Vinny broke the news to her on the way home. ‘I can’t have her going to one of them awful places, Vinny. You’ll have to step in and stop it. Give you electric shock treatments and all sorts in them shitholes.’

‘Mum, I can’t stop it. Dr Baker knows what is best, we don’t. I know you want to care for Auntie Viv, but she really does need professional help. We have to do whatever it takes to get her better, and if that means her going away for a bit, then so be it. I promise you faithfully, wherever she goes, I will take you to visit her regularly.’

‘But what about the neighbours? Them nosy load of bastards will have a field day discussing Viv being carted off to the funny farm. No, Vinny. I’m not letting her go. She’ll never live the shame down.’

‘Fuck the neighbours! Surely Auntie Viv’s health is more important than what they think? Anyway, we don’t have to tell them. We can say that she’s gone to stay with a friend in the country to recuperate.’

Queenie looked at her son as if he had gone mad. ‘But she ain’t got no friends. And you know how rumours spread, we’ll never be able to keep it quiet … unless we just keep it between me, you and Michael. Bren can’t be trusted. Got a mouth as big as a shark when she has a drink. The kids can’t be told either. Little Vinny is bound to tell Ben Bloggs, and I don’t want him telling his whore of a mother or thieving old gran.’

‘Calm down, Mum. Nobody will know bar me, you and Michael, I promise.’

Queenie didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the object on her front lawn. ‘What’s that, Vinny? Is it more flowers?’

Vinny could see better in the dark than his mother and he saw that the flowers were shaped in what looked like a gun. ‘Yeah, it’s flowers. Somebody must have got the day wrong. You go inside and put the kettle on, Mum. I’ll bring these in.’

He went to the arrangement and crouched down, his heart beating faster than its usual pace. The flowers were a mixture of red and white, which his mum hated. She always said it was the sign of blood and bandages and swore it was unlucky. The flowers were made up in the shape of a pistol and Vinny looked at the attached card with trepidation. He was right to be wary. The words read ‘YOU ARE NEXT’.

‘What you doing out there, Vinny?’ Queenie shouted from the house.

Vinny hurriedly stuffed the flowers in the boot of his car, then darted inside the house. ‘The flowers aren’t for us, Mum. They were delivered to the wrong street. I’m going to drop them off at the right address on the way home.’

‘Thank Christ for that! They looked red and white. That’s all we need – more bad luck.’

He tried not to let on, but Vinny was feeling physically sick. Because the flowers had been left on his mother’s front lawn it was hard to say whether the message was meant for her or for him. Ahmed popped into his mind, but Vinny quickly dismissed the thought. Even though Ahmed had forgiven him a bit too easily for his liking, he was sure that a stunt like this was not his pal’s style. If Ahmed planned to harm him, he certainly wouldn’t be issuing any warnings. Perhaps Bobby Jackson had sent them? But Vinny doubted it, given the damage he’d done to Bobby’s face and his threat to kill him. Jackson was a mouthy, gutless piece of shit just like his father had been. The only other suspect Vinny could think of offhand was Johnny Preston. The fact he was in prison wouldn’t have stopped him asking somebody to send the flowers, especially once he’d found out Joanna was pregnant. Well tomorrow Vinny would visit every florist in the vicinity to try and find out who the culprit was.