скачать книгу бесплатно
The Trap
Kimberley Chambers
The heir to Martina Cole’s crown with a story of murder, the underworld, violence and treachery.The Butlers are the kings of the East End.Vinny and Roy Butler are the apple of their mum’s eye and although Queenie knows they can play dirty, when it comes to family they look after business and make her proud. Nothing and no one can bring the Butler’s down.But Vinny seems to have crossed the wrong person and his cards are marked. And with the brothers joined at the hip, Roy may just be in the firing line too…One bloody night sets Vinny on the path of desperate vengeance, but will the Butlers emerge stronger than ever, or is the East End code of honour as good as dead?The first book in the Butler family saga. The series continues with Payback, The Wronged and Tainted Love.
KIMBERLEY CHAMBERS
The Trap
Copyright
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2013
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover photographs © Silas Manhood Photography
Kimberley Chambers asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007435043
Ebook Edition © June 2017 ISBN: 9780008263379
Version: 2017-05-08
In memory of all our brave soldiers who have lost their lives in action including my own grandfather “Gunner Thomas Henry Caunter”
If you trap the moment before it’s ripe,
The tears of repentance you certainly wipe.
But if once you let the ripe moment go,
You can never wipe off the tears of woe.
William Blake
Contents
Title Page (#u06efef59-f8d7-5e5a-8528-c40be00d96f6)
Copyright (#u75cdd72b-c584-5ff1-999c-19b04a591025)
Dedication (#uc444e7fb-cc64-5d2a-8ed1-c42fa330cc13)
Epigraph (#udef87c60-5b16-5d6a-a8df-fbbb3f967099)
Prologue (#ucf45ac94-9fe0-5930-8094-c17123329670)
Chapter One (#u6b055957-cd4e-55f0-933a-16faf3b283ed)
Chapter Two (#u2f4dbe21-65bc-58a6-b588-7d68b060577e)
Chapter Three (#u3c9709f5-bd3d-59b1-9523-3027e78c7a2b)
Chapter Four (#u119b775a-a37e-5fbe-80ab-f3aba59df6fc)
Chapter Five (#ua8277216-ba6e-568b-81db-a764b57079c3)
Chapter Six (#u329aac8b-4251-56bb-a3f8-b7f8bafd0cec)
Chapter Seven (#u27d28972-7fc5-5656-bcfd-bb6f35982225)
Chapter Eight (#u78f45cf7-07af-5b7a-bcb1-31fd5f14ced6)
Chapter Nine (#u5d074c78-23f3-535b-b949-f78f9cf10f0f)
Chapter Ten (#u5d2f9176-e6be-5a5f-bcec-fcf5e609415e)
Chapter Eleven (#u4bbba3d9-3b14-5eab-a82a-89276c217616)
Chapter Twelve (#ubc71c518-6742-5d3c-a439-b4bdd1348a73)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Kimberley Chambers (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Autumn 1965
Unable to make himself heard above Sandie Shaw belting out ‘Long Live Love’, Donald Walker made his way over to the Wurlitzer jukebox and turned down the volume.
‘Don’t do that! You know I like Sandie,’ Mary Walker said, as though she knew the singer personally.
‘There’s somebody knocking at the door,’ Donald informed his wife.
Mary walked over to the door and unbolted it. She was greeted by a sturdy-looking woman standing there in a dark-grey overcoat. At a guess, Mary thought she was probably in her mid fifties, but it was hard to be sure because of the curlers and hairnet on her head. ‘Hello. Can I help you?’ Mary asked, politely.
‘No, but I can help you,’ the woman replied, barging her way past Mary and into the premises.
Donald and Mary knew very little about the East End or its natives. They were North Londoners, having lived in Stoke Newington for many years, but this café in Whitechapel had been far too cheap to turn down, which is why they had decided to up sticks and move.
‘Hello, I’m Donald and this is my wife, Mary. As you have probably already realized, we are the new owners of the café. We officially open for business tomorrow but would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’ Donald asked.
Shaking her head, the woman held out her right hand. ‘I’m Freda. Freda Smart. I live just around the corner.’
‘And how can you help us?’ Mary enquired. She had a feeling that Freda was about to ask for a job, but there was no chance of that as she and Donald had spent every penny they had refurbishing the rundown café and were in no position to employ staff just yet.
‘I can help you by telling you why this café has been empty for eighteen long months before you bought it and why you probably got it for peanuts,’ Freda spat.
Mary gave her husband a worried glance. This café had been half the cost of any others they had looked at and the only one in their meagre price-range. But this woman seemed unhinged somehow and Mary wondered if she perhaps held a grudge against the previous owner.
‘Would you like a glass of water?’ Donald asked. He had noticed that the woman’s forehead had beads of sweat forming which had now started to drip onto one of his brand-new melamine tables.
‘No, don’t want nuffink. Just come to let you know the score. No-one else round ’ere will tell you. They’re all too bleedin’ well frightened of ’em, but I ain’t.’
‘Frightened of who?’ Mary asked, perplexed.
‘Frightened of the Butlers. They own that snooker club just around the corner. Old Jack who used to own this café, they killed his son, Peter. Broke his wife Ethel’s heart it did and if you don’t abide by their rules, they’ll rip the heart out of your family too. I saw you move in. You got two little kids, ain’t ya? Well, if you just do as I say, you’ll be OK. Albie’s the dad. He’s a piss-head, a proper waster. The mother is the brains of the family. Hard-looking old cow called Queenie. Her sister is Vivvy, she has a mongol son, and Queenie’s kids are Vinny, who is the worst out the bunch, Roy, Michael, and young Brenda. When they come in here, look after ’em. Serve ’em before any other customers and don’t charge ’em for food or drinks, you get me?’
Seeing the distressed look on his wife’s face, Donald was extremely annoyed. Opening their café tomorrow was meant to be one of the best moments of their lives and yet this madwoman was here, upsetting his Mary and threatening to spoil the joyous occasion. ‘I can assure you, Freda, that Mary and I will not be giving free drinks or food to anybody and our customers will also be served in the order they arrive in. Now, if you don’t mind, could I please ask you to leave? Mary and I still have lots of work to do before we open tomorrow and we have very little time left to accomplish that task.’
Absolutely furious that her sound advice hadn’t been listened to, Freda stood up, stomped towards Donald and poked him in the chest. ‘Dig your own grave, what do I care? But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The Butlers, remember the name. They catch people in their trap, just like spiders do,’ she yelled, as Donald escorted her out of the café.
‘Oh my God! What have we done, Donald? And who the hell are the Butlers?’ Mary asked, when her husband had locked the door.
