In Cold Blood: A Brother’s Sworn Vengeance. Julie Shaw

Why hadn’t she stood by him? Been a decent alibi? Fucking witnesses. What witnesses? Who knew if they weren’t just out to fit him up, after all?

      Sally left not long after and June tried to pull herself together. She needed to be there for poor Vin, who was obviously distressed. But no sooner had she turned back to him than he was wiping his face and grinning. ‘Que sera sera, muvver! Alter your face, I’ll be okay!’

      June shook her head, not sure whether to be relieved he’d been putting it on, or furious at the little git for all the play-acting. She chose the latter and went to clip him round the ear again, but he managed to dodge her. ‘We’ll see, son,’ she snapped. ‘We’ll see. I hope you’re right. You realise your dad’s gonna throw a right mental though when he hears this, don’t you?’

      And he would, too. Which was no less than Vin deserved. And which she wasn’t hanging about for. ‘Anyway, I’m off out, mate,’ she added, ‘before he gets back. I’ve got a few quid stashed away that he don’t know about.’

      Vinnie looked affronted. ‘Well I’m not staying here on my own!’ he said. ‘He’ll be pissed, won’t he? I’m not having him battering me as well as you.’

      June softened then. ‘I’m sorry, love, you know what I’m like.’ She pulled her packet of fags out from where she’d just stowed them in her handbag and tried not to think about him not being around for a bit. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘take a couple of ciggies and a few bob for some supper. I’m off to the Bull to meet Moira and Maureen. You can go round to our Lyndsey’s for the night; tell her what’s happened.’

      Vinnie, who clearly couldn’t believe his good fortune, grinned widely. Then gave his mum a quick hug and a kiss before running out of the house.

      June turned back to the mirror and quickly applied some more panstick onto the bags under her eyes, and a fresh slice of ruby red across her lips. She then changed her coal-burnt slippers for a pair of black stilettos and within minutes she was off up the road to her local, her evening back on track, at least for now. She wondered how many scratters with a few bob she was going to pull tonight. She pulled her old fur coat closer round her, to keep out the chill. And pushed all thoughts of her wayward son to the back of her mind.

      Like you did. It was like Vinnie said, Que sera sera. What could you do?

Chapter 2

      Vinnie peeped into the window, through the gap in the curtains of his sister’s house, taking care not to be seen. He had vaulted the six garden fences round the backs which separated his house from hers, and he could feel his breath rasping in his throat. Squatting down then, out of sight, he shivered against the freezing wind as he ate the last of his vinegar-soaked chips. He wished he’d had the bottle to nip into his own house for his coat. Fucking old man had put paid to that idea, though. Must have heard the latest news from his auntie or something, because when Vinnie had popped his head inside 10 minutes ago, the senile old bastard had started ranting and raging. Fuck that for a lark – he was off.

      He hated coming up to Lyndsey’s because she lived like a pig. But right now, she felt the lesser of two evils. But only just; peering back in through the window, he could see that she was off her head already. She was slumped in an armchair that was covered in puke and chocolate stains, eyes glazed over and with that stupid vacant smile on her face as she watched the three kids playing on the ratty carpet. Vinnie frowned. Fucking 10 o’clock at night and the kids still up. They were only three, four and seven as well. The ‘idiot’ – her bloke Robbo – was squatting on the floor, too, smoking his weed through a milk-bottle pipe, oblivious to fucking anything. Vinnie crumpled up his chip bag and knocked hard on the window. ‘Police, open up!’ he shouted.

      Little Robbie, the eldest kid, looked up and smiled at him and Lyndsey, at once alert, jumped up from her chair. Seeing Vinnie grinning in at her, she relaxed and sat down again and was back slumped by the time he’d let himself in through the unlocked back door. ‘Fucking divvy!’ she said as the kids all ran to jump up at their uncle.

      ‘All right kids, calm down,’ he said, fending them off. ‘Fuckin’ hell, Lynds, you wanna tell him to give that pipe a rest – these three are high as kites!’

      ‘Cheeky fucker,’ she responded, clearly less out of it than she looked. ‘You’re not too old to get your arse smacked, you know.’ Then her tone changed. ‘Aw, put ’em to bed for us, will you, Vin?’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘I’ll do another mix if I can get the pipe off Marty-fucking-Feldman there. Just look at them fucking eyes. Oi! Numpty – pipe!’

      It was always like this and Vinnie wasn’t about to say no to her. Someone needed to look after the poor little fuckers. Vinnie picked his nieces up, one giggling on each arm. ‘C’mon then, mate,’ he said to Robbie, then, choosing his route carefully over the shoes and clothes that had been left all over the floor, took them all up to bed.

      Sammy and Lou shared bunk beds in the same bedroom as their brother, and Vinnie took his usual deep breath of the clear air on the tiny landing before going into the room. It never changed – it stank of piss and always made him retch.

      ‘Will you play with us, Uncle Vinnie? Just for a little bit?’ asked Robbie.

      Vinnie shook his head. ‘Not tonight, matey. You three need some sleep. It’s late and your mam wants me downstairs. I’m sleeping on your couch though,’ he added, while casting around for some wearable nightwear. ‘So we can play in the morning, all right?’

      Having settled the kids, Vinnie went down to join Lyndsey and Robbo. At least when they were stoned they shared the hash out. Not like if they’d been on the other stuff. He hated them then. That was the trouble with coming here, though; you either walked in and fucking floated out or you entered a war zone. You never knew what you might find.

      ‘Don’t suppose you’ve heard about me, then?’ Vinnie asked as he sat on the couch. Clearly not. His sister and Robbo just looked puzzled. ‘I’m getting sent down, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘Next week. Fuckin’ right piss-take.’

      ‘Fuck off!’ laughed Robbo. ‘You’re only 13. They can’t fucking send you down at your age!’

      Vinnie glared at the idiot. He hated him, and couldn’t understand what his sister saw in him. ‘Well they are. Durr! They know I did the fucking bingo hall and the youthy. Fucking Saggy Tits came up today, said it was all decided in court yesterday. But, of course, me mother didn’t attend, did she?’

      ‘Aw, here love,’ Lyndsey said as she passed Vinnie a joint. He looked at it, smiling at her with something approaching pity. She was well gone now, her eyes just a pair of slits in her face. A far cry from the stunner she’d once been, way back. Now she just looked fucking tragic. ‘It don’t really surprise me about her though. They don’t serve bitter in court, do they?’ She tipped her head back and laughed at her own joke. Vinnie didn’t. ‘And you have to admit, Vin, you had it coming, mate.’

      He lit the paper, watched the stray ends of tobacco flare and redden. Perhaps having a smoke would give him some more of the Dutch courage he needed. Was going to keep needing, in fact. ‘Cheers for the moral support and all that,’ he said. ‘I’m not bothered anyway. Piece of piss approved school’ll be.’

      Robbo opened his mouth to speak but started to choke instead – either over Vinnie’s words or the smoke that wreathed his face. ‘Approved school?’ he spluttered finally. ‘That’s not going down, mate. The nick is going down. Armley or Thorp Arch is going down. Fucking approved school?’

      Robbo bent over to suck again on the piece of plastic tube, laughing. The homemade pipe had another tube next to the plastic one; a length of copper pipe that was wedged into the model milk bottle with a lump of plasticine. Vinnie watched, fascinated, as the dirty liquid in the bottle started to bubble. He hoped the arsehole did choke on it. Like, lethally. Who did he think he was, trying to make a cunt out of him?