Payback. Kimberley Chambers

his mother’s words of wisdom. ‘As much as I love and miss you, it’s not safe for you to be living back in the East End, son. That Vinny Butler is a real force to be reckoned with now, and he won’t have forgotten what you did to him. He isn’t the type of man to let bygones be bygones.’

      As the van trundled along, Trevor shuddered as his abductor took his hood down. Vinny had been fifteen, Trevor nineteen, when he had eloped to Leeds with Yvonne. But even at such a young age, Vinny had already carved out a fearsome reputation back then. That was why Yvonne had insisted they left the area. How Trevor now wished he had never clapped eyes on Yvonne Summers.

      ‘Not the greatest choice of song for you to be whistling, was it, Trevor? Because, my oh my, your day is going to be anything but fucking wonderful,’ Vinny chuckled as he ripped the tape from his victim’s mouth.

      It was quite dark inside the back of the van and it wasn’t until Vinny switched on a big static torch like the ones workmen used that Trevor could properly see the man whose girlfriend he had stolen all those years ago. With his mop of thick black hair Brylcreemed back, and his menacing eyes that were a piercing shade of bright green, Vinny looked even scarier in the light than the dark.

      ‘What you gonna do to me? Please don’t hurt me, Vinny, I beg you. I know what I did was wrong and I am very sorry, but I swear if you let me out of this van, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll even move away again, if that’s what you want. On my mother’s life, I will.’

      Vinny could not help but grin. He had waited years for this moment, and intended to enjoy every second of it. Trevor had lost all of his hair, had yellow teeth, and reminded Vinny of a fly stuck to one of those sticky tape traps his mum had in her conservatory that was desperately trying to untangle itself. ‘If I was a forgiving man, I would let you jump out of this van right now. Unfortunately for you, Trevor, I am not.’

      ‘Please, Vinny, I’m beggin’ you not to hurt me. It will be the end of my mum if you do. She has a lot of respect for your mum and aunt, you know. She was gutted over Roy and Lenny’s deaths – she’s ordered some lovely flowers for their funerals. And I remember your dad well. I used to buy my cigarettes and booze off him once upon a time,’ Trevor gabbled.

      ‘So, where is the slag now? Did you marry the manipulative deceitful whore?’ Vinny spat. Yvonne Summers had been his first and only true love. Two years older than him she was, but even at fifteen, Vinny had known how to earn a bob or two and had treated that girl like a princess. Jewellery, clothes, hats, shoes – he had lavished Yvonne with expensive gifts. And how had she repaid him? By running off with the skinny little weasel of a man who was currently snivelling while resembling a trussed-up turkey.

      Tears of pure fright streaming down his cheeks, Trevor nodded. ‘Yeah, we got married and had four kids. Yvonne is still in Leeds, I think. I can give you the address if you want?’

      ‘So, what you doing back here?’

      ‘We split up and I had nowhere else to go. If you want Yvonne back, you can have her, Vinny. I don’t mind, honest.’

      ‘Want her back! You having a laugh at my expense, Trevor? Wrong words, mate, wrong words,’ Vinny spat. He opened the tool bag next to him and pulled out a pair of pliers.

      ‘No, please God, no,’ Trevor screamed, wetting himself with fear as Vinny inserted the pliers into his mouth.

      Vinny was no qualified dentist and as Trevor’s screams echoed around the van, Michael winced and turned the volume of the radio up.

      By the time the Butlers reached their destination, a narrow rural lane that led to nothing but a metal gate in East Hanningfield, Vinny was splashed with blood, and after passing out Trevor was now untied, awake again and rolling about the floor in obvious agony.

      ‘Stop crying, you fucking wuss. Man up,’ Vinny ordered, giving his now toothless victim a sharp kick in the head.

      Michael parked up next to the Datsun Cherry they’d left there that morning. Even the full volume of the radio had not been able to drown out Trevor’s howls.

      ‘Let’s just get the job finished, Vinny. The quicker we get away from here and back to Whitechapel, the better.’

      Vinny took the small axe out of the tool bag. ‘You better go for a walk for five minutes, Michael. I doubt you have the stomach to watch what I am about to do.’

      ‘Don’t be insinuating I’m some pussy, Vinny. If I was, I wouldn’t be here with you. Just do what you’ve got to do, and get your skates on.’

      Trevor was in too much pain to scream when Vinny dragged him out of the van by the legs. Instead, he whimpered like an injured dog and curled up in a foetal position, covering his head with his hands. He now knew how animals must feel when they were being led inside the slaughterhouse, and he just wanted death to come quickly so the pain would go away.

      Vinny Butler had a different plan. In some countries it was classed as normal to chop the hands off thieves. ‘Be a good boy now, Trevor. Hold your right hand out for Uncle Vinny.’

      Sobbing his heart out, Trevor did as he was told. His mother and his winnings flashed through his mind. He was never going to get the chance to spend that now, was he? And he would never see his kids again.

      ‘Sure you wanna watch this, David?’ Vinny joked. Michael bore a strong resemblance to the popstar David Essex. Even had the same cheeky grin. Vinny had thought it hilarious when his brother got chased down Petticoat Lane market by a crowd of screaming tourists the previous Sunday.

      Michael did not want to watch what Vinny was about to do, but there was no way he was going to admit that. ‘Just fucking hurry up, will you? And if you ever call me David again, I’ll be pulling your teeth out with pliers.’

      Trevor let out a blood-curdling scream as the axe tore into his wrist, then seemed to lose consciousness.

      ‘Those thieving hands of yours had to come off, didn’t they, Trevor? Won’t be stealing anybody’s girlfriend now, will you? Nobody messes with me, and I mean nobody,’ Vinny hissed, his face spattered with his victim’s blood.

      Trying not to throw up, Michael felt a shiver travel down his spine as he heard the rustling of nearby leaves. ‘Did you hear that noise, Vin? I heard something coming from the bushes.’

      ‘Probably a hedgehog or a fox. This axe is shit. It’s blunt,’ Vinny complained, as he continued to hack away at Trevor’s flesh.

      Averting his eyes from what reminded him of a scene out of a horror film, Michael heard another noise, turned around and nearly shit himself as two pairs of eyes met his. ‘Jesus fucking wept! I nearly had a heart attack then. There’s cows watching us, Vinny.’

      ‘Well, I doubt they’ll be ringing the Old Bill to give a statement,’ Vinny replied, laughing at his own wit.

      ‘It ain’t funny, Vin. Giving me the heebies, this place is. Let’s set fire to the van and get out of here.’

      Vinny glanced at Michael, a manic glint in his eyes. ‘Not until I’ve finished chopping the thieving cunt’s hands off. He needs to be taught a lesson, taking other people’s possessions.’

      ‘But he’s already dead by the looks of it. He isn’t going to know whether you chop his other hand off, is he? I tell you what, give me the poxy axe and I’ll do the honours. You sort out the fire – and whatever you do, don’t leave anything lying about.’

      Unlike his brother, Michael had never murdered anyone and the bile rose in his throat as he heard a whimper come out of Trevor’s mouth then saw his eyes flicker open. ‘Oh Jesus,’ he mumbled, dropping the axe in horror. He then took a deep breath, reluctantly picked the axe back up and started to chop at the man’s left wrist. Vinny would never let him live it down otherwise.

      Flesh and bone was harder to chop through than Michael had thought possible. But by the time Vinny had tidied up after them and doused the van in petrol, both hands had been severed and Trevor looked as dead as a dodo.

      ‘Put