Our Vinnie (35 page)

Lou leapt up obediently, as he’d expected. They were bound to feel embarrassed about being stuck with this virtual stranger. Six years was a long time when it was half your lifetime, after all.

But he didn’t have long, so he needed to get to the point. ‘Sammy,’ he said, ‘I know this will come as a bit of a shock, but I’ve got to come out with it. I’ve been hearing stuff on my way home today. Has Mucky Melvin been bothering you?’

Her eyes widened and her face answered the question for her, reminding him painfully of how it must have been for Josie at that age. She shook her head immediately. ‘No.’

‘Love, I know about him,’ Vinnie persisted, experiencing that same leaden feeling as before. ‘And you’re not in any trouble. I just need to know. I’ve heard some things. Not just about you. About a couple of other girls too. And I heard you’d been running errands for him. Getting his shopping for him? Is that it?’

Sammy shook her head. ‘I don’t, Uncle Vin, I swear.’

‘Don’t what?’ Lyndsey was now standing in the doorway.

‘Don’t go anywhere near Mucky Melvin,’ she said, looking from her mother back to Vinnie. ‘Honest, I don’t.’

Lyndsey rolled her eyes. ‘Christ, Vin. You as well?’ She walked across to her baccy tin and picked it up. ‘What
is
all this with Mucky Melvin? First Titch and now you …’

‘Titch?’ Vinnie said, shocked. ‘What about her?’

‘Coming round here a few weeks back, doing the same as you.’ She waved a hand towards her younger daughter. ‘Honestly, Vin. You really think she’d be so fucking stupid? She’s a fucking McKellan.’ She rolled her eyes again. ‘You really think she’s that wet behind the ears?’

Vinnie turned to Sammy then and even beneath the caked on layers of make-up, he watched the answer spread across her cheeks. Yes.

Vinnie had a present for his mam, and he was proud of it. Not quite the show-stopper that his gypsy caravan and shire horse had been, but a beautiful thing, made with just as much love and care. Not by him – he’d lost interest, though his mam didn’t really need to know that – but by Gordon; it had been his parting gift to Vinnie.

It was a baccy tin, an ordinary baccy tin; nothing special, but what was on the lid
made
it special, because it was a very intricate affair. There was a decoration on it made from matchsticks, just like the caravan, but in this case they were soaked in a solution beforehand which made it possible to form them into shapes. In this case, the ornamentation took the shape of a rose, created by layers of moulded petals, which were then set with varnish, and glued to the top of the tin. It had then been painted gold and just beneath the flower was the carefully etched inscription ‘mother’. It was a work of art, and Vinnie knew she would love it.

But that would have to wait now. He needed to go and see his little sister. Find out exactly what had been going down. And, he decided with a kind of frisson of grim excitement, perhaps he also needed to change the timescale of his plans.

Once he knew what he needed to, he hadn’t wanted to press it. Whatever had or hadn’t happened, there was nothing that could be done about it anyway – well, not that wasn’t going to be happening in any case. And when Lyndsey started interrogating Sammy, he wished he’d never even asked her, because it was clear Lyndsey had up to now believed Sammy’s denials and – probably out of guilt, which was pretty fucking appropriate – now obviously felt the need to come over all concerned parent for his benefit. Which was pretty bloody rich, even for her.

He felt sickened thinking about what might have been happening to his niece, and could only hope that it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. And he was at least reassured by the fact that Titch had obviously taken action. Thank fuck those girls had her in their lives at least. But, shit, did that cunt have a particular thing for the girls in his fucking family, or what?

He walked the long way round to Eddie’s parents’ place to avoid passing his mam’s house.
Well
, he thought grimly,
not any fucking more
.

Josie had changed too. But in a better way. The best way. She was obviously older, but he’d already seen a recent picture of her, so looking at the young woman she’d now become wasn’t a shock. But what impressed Vinnie most was something maybe only he would have noticed. For the first time he could remember, she looked happy.

‘Thought you’d have had some balloons out, at least,’ he said, as she opened the door and whooped with delight.

She hugged him tightly before letting him go and dragging him into the house. ‘And I thought you’d have lost that spazzy moustache!’ she retorted. ‘Oh, God,’ she said, startling him by throwing herself on him again for another hug, ‘I am
so
glad to have you home again, Vin.’

‘So,’ he said, following her into a living room that looked like Buckingham Palace compared to his mam’s (though it did lack a guitar clock) and thinking how pleased he felt that she’d fallen on her feet, ‘where is everyone? And where’s my latest niece?’

‘Eddie’s mam and dad have gone into Bradford, and Eddie’s at work,’ she told him. She grinned. ‘As in doing a job. I know – a shock,’ she added, laughing. ‘But it’s what some people do. Maybe you could try it now you’re out.’

He grinned. ‘You cheeky bleeder! I’ll have you know I’ve worked pretty much every sodding day of the last six years.’

‘Yeah, you told me,’ Titch laughed. ‘Sitting in a library? That’s not work. Not for
you
. Anyway, sit yourself down. I’ll go up and fetch Paula.’

Vinnie took in more of his surroundings as he waited, and felt the heaviness of earlier lifting a little. Though he didn’t know Eddie well – he’d been away six years after all – he remembered the nice lad he’d been before he went in, and Brendan had confirmed it as well. He was a good solid bloke, and would take care of his sister, and that was all that mattered.

‘Here she is,’ Titch beamed, coming back with the baby in her arms. ‘Paula, this is your uncle Vinnie. You’re going to love him.’

She held the bundle straight out to Vinnie then, startling him for a second time. But he took his niece gladly, even though he felt a bit cack-handed doing so. He’d not seen a child – particularly a baby – in so long, that he was scared he might hold her wrong and start her off crying.

But as soon as he had hold of her, such worries melted away. You didn’t forget that stuff, after all, and it suddenly seemed like no time at all ago that he was cradling Lyndsey’s three in exactly the same way.

‘Sammy and Lou have grown,’ he said, lowering himself onto the big chintzy sofa.

‘Haven’t they just,’ Titch agreed with him. ‘Though – hang on – you mean you went there before coming here? Charming!’ she huffed. ‘I suppose you’ve already been round mam and dad’s too.’

He shook his head, cursing his stupidity in telling her. Why had he done that? ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘And I only nipped in to check the house number of this place. Had to come and see this princess first, didn’t I?’ he looked down at the baby, who was gazing up at him with enormous blue eyes. ‘Christ, though,’ he said, ‘poor little bleeder’s got my nose!’

‘Mam said it’s Dad’s, and Eddie’s mam say’s it’s her auntie’s – you know, I’ve decided everyone sees what they want to in babies.’ She smiled. ‘And I agree with you.’

Vinnie smiled back and crooked his little finger so that Paula could grip it. Which she did, gurgling at him as if she knew exactly who he was, and that she knew she was safe in his arms. He sighed, feeling chuffed she wasn’t crying for her mother and, remembering the job he’d vowed to do – and
would
do – wondering when there would be a chance to feel this peaceful again.

One thing was for sure. No girl in his family – including this one snuggled right here in his arms – was ever going to have to fear that cunt ever again.

Chapter 28

His room was pitch black, silent and freezing when he awoke and for a moment he couldn’t work out where he was. The noise was shrill though, so he leaned across to his bedside and switched off the tin alarm clock: 3 a.m. He sat up, disorientated. He was in his cell surely, but if so, why couldn’t he see? Where were the dim landing lights?

But then it hit him. He wasn’t in prison any more. He was in his old bedroom at home. Hence the cold. So he leapt out of bed and started to limber up, both to keep warm and also because it was part of his routine; keeping fit was second nature to him now. He tried to be quiet though. He didn’t want to wake up his mam and dad.

He let his thoughts wander as he pushed out some sit-ups. He thought of Brendan, but he didn’t feel guilty. He knew Brendan would be angry, but that was tough shit. If all this was to come on top, he didn’t want to take his best mate down with him.

Vinnie pulled open his bottom drawer carefully, mindful of the broken runner, felt around and pulled out a sweater. It was still dark but now his eyes had adjusted, he could see just how enormous it was, and he grinned. Fuck knew just how big his mam must have thought he’d grown, but it was sweet of her to find some old thing of Jock’s to fill his drawers with, bless her. He pulled it on over the T-shirt and jeans he’d fallen into bed in. It would certainly do fine for tonight anyway.

All that remained now was to push his feet into his beloved dealer boots, now a bit stiff and worse for wear. Then his Crombie – he couldn’t countenance going anywhere without his beloved Crombie, and he was done. He crept as silently as he could down the stairs.

It had been 24 hours, almost to the minute, since he’d crashed in, drunk as fuck, after his first night back home. It had been quite a night – had there been anyone who hadn’t bought a drink for him? – and though his head was reasonably clear, tonight’s return visit to the Bull had topped up his alcohol levels, even having spent much of yesterday asleep in bed, and with a plate of his mam’s stew and dumplings on board.

But perhaps a little alcohol was important, he decided, making his way out through the back door to the coal-hole to retrieve the black bin liner of stuff he had hidden there. Stone cold sober he might be tempted to think more pragmatically about everything, forget how it had burned in him, this determination for justice, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Walking through the estate streets, Vinnie didn’t keep to the shadows and edges. He walked purposefully down the middle of the road. He didn’t give two fucks who might see him and wonder – in fact he hoped some people might. He knew the police wouldn’t be knocking about around the estate at this time – not without an invite – and as for everyone else … Well by morning, they’d all have a fair idea who had done this in any case.

He grinned as a sudden thought popped into his head. Mr Malvern had once been discussing Charles Dickens with him, and came out with a quote that had stayed with him:
Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door
. Well actually, sir, Vinnie thought, flexing his fingers around his bin bag, justice begins in about five fucking minutes, down the bottom of Dawnay Road.

The squat that was currently home to Mucky-fucking-Melvin naturally had no locking doors. It was an abandoned house of a kind which could be found all over the estate, the last official residents having done a runner. The council being the council – i.e. fucking inefficient in most departments – often took months to cotton on to these empty homes. And in the meantime – the residents of Canterbury Estate being generally resourceful – they were put to good use. They provided places to stash stolen goods, throw an all-night party, take a bird for a quickie or, in Melvin’s case, somewhere to live when you needed to leave your own home for some reason.

Most of the squats had boarded-up windows. This was a ruse by whoever was using them, to give the police or any particularly nosey neighbours the impression that the council knew about them and were working on them. Number 12 Dawnay Road, however, didn’t. It was a dump, out and out, a proper hovel – with its front windows sporting several broken panes, held together only with the torn-up bin bags that had been taped across the holes.

Vinnie entered silently, though had to swallow hard to stop himself gagging because the stench was horrendous: a vile cocktail of stale food and shit and piss. He trod carefully, grateful for the light coming in from the nearby street-lamp to help him, which also illuminated a filthy mattress lying on one side of the front room, on which Melvin was currently lying, snoring.

Vinnie glanced around, taking his time to get his bearings. A kind of fire had been built in the middle of the floor and he could still see a half-burned chair leg sticking out from the ashes. That’ll do for starters, he thought, stepping across the crap on the floor to get to it, and leaning down to pluck it from the ashes. He inspected it more closely as he quietly put down his bag of kit, then roughly poked the middle of the sleeping form. Melvin coughed once, then tried to pull up the overcoat covering him, apparently unaware still that he had a visitor.

Vinnie poked him again and then squatted by the mattress, directly in front of him, then, as his eyes flickered open, poked him again.

‘Rise and shine, you filthy old cunt!’ he said brightly. Upon which Melvin, wide-eyed now, tried to sit up.

Vinnie didn’t let him. He shoved him back hard onto his makeshift bed, ensuring he was now lying flat on his back and could clearly see who it was who’d come to visit. The old man looked up at him, his eyes first filled with fear then, a moment later, with a kind of acceptance.

He cleared his throat again. ‘Didn’t think it would be long before you came calling, McKellan,’ he said. He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Come to talk, have you?’

Vinnie laughed as well, then gripped Melvin’s flaccid throat in his hand. ‘That’s right, old man,’ he said. ‘Come for a nice cosy chat, I have. Starting with what you did to my sister. Then perhaps, over a cuppa, we could move on – how does that sound? To what you’ve been doing to my niece.’

Melvin wriggled, but it was pointless, and he soon even stopped trying, instead rasping, ‘I never touched your fucking niece! And your sister? Christ, McKellan – don’t tell me you believe that fucking nonsense? I never went near her. And if she says so she’s a fucking liar!’