The Wronged: No parent should ever have to bury their child.... Kimberley Chambers

send-off – unusually for anything involving his family – had gone without a hitch. The wake had been held at Nick’s, the restaurant that Vinny part-owned in Stratford. Even with all the tables and chairs removed, there hadn’t been enough room to accommodate the mourners. The club would have been a far more appropriate venue had circumstances been different and Molly had not been snatched from there.

      No parent expected to outlive their kids, especially when they were as young as Molly had been. Her death would haunt Vinny forever. With her curly blonde hair, big green eyes and infectious personality, Molly had been the light of Vinny’s life. He’d loved that child more than he had ever loved anybody. On the day he’d found out she was dead, part of him had died with her.

      ‘You OK, Dad? I’ve just been crying as well. I will always blame and hate myself for what happened. I know I never played with her much, but I did love her and I really do miss her,’ Little Vinny lied.

      Vinny patted the bed and when his son sat next to him, he put an arm around his shoulders. With his dark hair, bright green eyes and tall build, Little Vinny was most certainly a chip off the old block. ‘No point keep beating yourself up, boy. Not gonna bring Molly back, is it? I was proud of you today when you stood up and read that poem. Not an easy thing to do in a packed church.’

      ‘So, you don’t blame me no more then?’

      On the day Molly went missing there had been a flood in the club cellar. Vinny had left his son in charge of Molly while he went downstairs to sort it out, but the boy had fallen asleep. The main door of the club had accidentally been left open and it still wasn’t known if Molly had wandered outside or her killer had entered the club to abduct her.

      ‘No. I don’t blame you. There’s only one person to blame and that’s Jamie cunting Preston. He’ll pay for what he did one day. As soon as he’s released, I’ll be there waiting for him. An eye for an eye, son. Always remember that.’

      ‘I’ll help you kill him, Dad. I’ll be old enough then.’ Little Vinny shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe it. I mean, Jamie is your half-brother. I suppose that makes him my uncle, doesn’t it?’

      Vinny’s relationship with his father Albie had always been strained, and there would certainly never be any bridges built now. Jamie Preston was the result of an affair his father had indulged in many moons ago, and none of his family had even known the evil little shit existed until he had been arrested for Molly’s murder. To say Vinny had been shocked was an understatement. He’d thought an old enemy of his was the culprit, and had beaten Bobby Jackson so badly that he was still in hospital, unable to communicate with anybody. ‘Let’s go downstairs and get a drink, eh, boy?’

      ‘Can I have a cider, Dad?’

      ‘Yeah. Course you can.’

      Little Vinny could not help but smirk as he followed his father down the stairs. Life was so much better now his dad’s bird Joanna and Molly were no longer around. It was like it used to be when he was younger. Just him and his old man.

      Molly’s mother, Joanna Preston, was back at her parents’ place in Tiptree. She’d left the moment the funeral was over, unable to face the prospect of the wake, not with the Butlers lording it as if they were royalty, surrounded by all their gangster pals. Her only friend in that family was Michael’s wife, Nancy, who’d accompanied her home. Michael was nowhere as bad as his brother, but even so Nancy had had a lot to put up with and the two women had supported one another when the Butlers closed ranks. Both of them had been livid when Little Vinny had been allowed to stand up in church and read that poem, and even more angry when he had failed to mention them.

      ‘Thanks for seeing me home, Nance. I couldn’t have got through today if it wasn’t for you. Seeing Vinny again made me physically sick. I can’t believe I was ever in love with the bastard. I bet he told that horror of a son of his not to mention us in that poem. I know the way his evil mind works. And did you see his face when I asked him for Molly’s doll? The way he was smirking when he said I couldn’t have it because he’d put it in her coffin. I don’t believe him. He didn’t even have the guts to identify his own daughter’s body, so why would he have gone anywhere near her coffin? I bet he has the doll indoors. The police told me they gave it back to him last week.’

      ‘Vinny’s hateful, Jo. He always has been.’ Nancy wrapped an arm round her friend’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘I don’t mean this to sound horrible, but I reckon your dad was right: Vinny targeted you purposely because he knew you were Johnny Preston’s kid. I mean, if he loved you even a tiny bit he would never have treated you the way he has since Molly died. He has been a total and utter pig. If you ask me, you’re well rid of him.’ Seeing that Joanna was about to start crying again, she added softly: ‘I’ll have a word with Michael about the doll. He might be able to find out where it is.’

      The doll in question had been Molly’s pride and joy. Vinny had bought it for his daughter and named it after her. The little girl had taken Molly Dolly everywhere with her, wouldn’t go to sleep unless the doll was tucked in beside her of a night. The bedraggled, rain-soaked doll had been found a quarter of a mile away from where Molly’s tiny body was located. The police reckoned Molly had dropped it as her killer led her to her death.

      ‘How you getting on with Michael now?’ Joanna asked, making an effort to take her mind off Molly and the funeral.

      ‘He’s been fine since I moved back in. Been very attentive towards me and the boys and we’ve had some nice family days out. We even went to the zoo last week. Sorry. I’m being thoughtless now, aren’t I?’

      Joanna squeezed Nancy’s hand. ‘Don’t be daft! Even though Molly isn’t here any more, I still want to hear about those boys of yours. Actually, I’ve got some news for you, some good news for once, but you must swear that, if I tell you, you won’t breathe a word to a living soul. My mum and dad didn’t want me to tell you – I think that’s why my dad was a bit offish with you earlier. He thinks that if I tell you, you’ll tell Michael.’

      ‘As if! Spit it out, I’m dying to know. Have you met a new man?’

      Joanna shook her head. ‘That day I saw Molly in the mortuary was officially the worst day of my life. I thought today was going to be even worse, until this morning.’ She gave a teary smile, swiping away the tears that were running down her cheeks. ‘Talk about every cloud has a silver lining, Nance.’

      ‘What you going on about, Jo? You’ve lost me.’

      ‘I’m having another baby.’

      Rather than choke, Nancy spat her mouthful of wine back into her glass.

      Feeling ever so weary, Queenie Butler put on her nightdress and slippers and went back downstairs. It had taken her ages to settle Tara and Tommy down, but both were now thankfully asleep.

      ‘They OK, Queen?’ Vivian asked.

      Queenie nodded. ‘Took ’em a while to get off to sleep after I told them about the kids who got stabbed outside Bethnal Green station after asking the wrong geezer to give ’em a penny for the Guy. I think I might’ve frightened ’em.’

      ‘What you on about? I don’t remember any kids getting stabbed outside Bethnal Green station.’

      ‘Neither do I.’ Queenie managed a wicked grin. ‘But I had to come up with something that’d put them off begging, didn’t I?’ She sank into her chair with a sigh. ‘You wait until Brenda rears her drunken head tomorrow. You should have seen the state of her. Had her tongue stuck down that bloke’s throat in front of everybody in the pub, and he was a lot older than her. Talk about embarrass the family. Vinny and Michael won’t be too pleased when they find out. Bound to hear about it, even if I don’t tell ’em.’

      Vivian tutted disapprovingly. ‘Who was he?’

      ‘No bloody idea. Knowing Bren, she probably picked him up at the wake. Acting like a whore, she was. I tell ya, Viv, I’m disgusted with her. She’s her father’s daughter all right. As for them poor little mites upstairs, I hate to think