As Charlie Kray said himself, he was not a gangster and didn’t want a highly publicized gangster’s funeral that would, in the eyes of millions, link him to his violent brothers.
But he got one anyway. Reggie saw to that. Reggie had revelled in the misguided adulation of those cheering, chanting hordes at Ronnie’s funeral and wanted more of it. But that was not the only betrayal of a man who Charlie, in moments of brutal, drink-enhanced honesty, referred to as ‘an animal’.
Shortly after Charlie’s death, Diana phoned my wife, Sue, and asked her if she would speak on her, and her family’s, behalf at the funeral. Charlie had insisted on Sue representing him at Ronnie’s and Gary’s funerals and Diana was sure he would want her to speak at his, because they liked each other so much.
Of course, Sue agreed, and they spent half an hour or so discussing which poems would be appropriate and what Diana wanted Sue to say on her behalf. The next day, Sue rang the flat in Upper Norwood and Diana put the phone on loudspeaker, so that her daughter, Claudine – who was staying with her – could hear how Sue had put Diana’s thoughts into words.
Everything, it seemed, was going smoothly. But the following afternoon Diana phoned our home in Kent, steaming.
‘That bastard Reg,’ she fumed. ‘Can you believe it? He’s told me that Charlie can’t be buried at Chingford. There are only two spaces left in the family plot and he wants them for himself, and Bradley Allardyce.’ Bradley was a young prisoner who Reggie called his ‘adopted son’.
Diana was disgusted that Reggie could be so disrespectful to his older brother, but was not surprised: she had seen Charlie hurt many times by Reggie’s outbursts, which is why she’d always had as little to do with him as possible. There was no love lost between them.
Claudine came on the phone, sobbing. Her voice breaking, she told Sue she loved Charlie dearly. To her, he was Dad, always had been, and he’d even given her away on her wedding day. She never wanted him buried with the twins; she wanted him cremated and his ashes scattered around a tree she planned to plant beside South Norwood lake, which she could see from the balcony of the flat, in Cantley Gardens. Often, sitting next to her on the balcony taking the sun, Charlie had said to her what a lovely, peaceful spot it was, and Claudine could think of no resting place more fitting for a man she loved and respected so much – someone who had never let her down. She wanted to be able to take her daughter, Georgia May, to the place where Charlie was at rest, whenever she needed to talk something over with him.
The problem was that Charlie had always said he wanted to be buried beside Gary. To deny him that was unthinkable, so Diana started to consider having Gary’s body exhumed and reburied, with Charlie, in the cemetery of the local church, where Claudine had married.
In the end it didn’t come to that: Reggie had a change of heart and gave Charlie priority over his young prison buddy. He told Diana he would be taking over the arrangements for the funeral, and, to avoid further upset, Diana left him to it.
Having had no contact with Reggie over the funeral, and not wanting to fuel possible tension, Sue said she’d understand if Diana changed her mind about her speaking. Diana was horrified and said that was one area where Reggie would not have his way: Charlie might not be getting the quiet funeral he wished for, but all those who came to mourn his passing would, most certainly, hear the voice he liked so much.
Charlie would have been embarrassed – mortified, perhaps – by the show his brother put on for his farewell. True, it was not as ostentatious as the hyperbolic affair Reggie orchestrated for Ronnie: no black-plumed horses clip-clopped in front of a glass-sided hearse; only eighteen limousines, not twenty-nine, ferried family and friends; considerably fewer menacing minders patrolled outside English’s funeral parlour, and St Matthew’s Church, further along Bethnal Green Road; and a mere 5,000 or so curious onlookers thronged the streets outside the church and along the funeral route to Chingford Cemetery. But for such a courteous, engaging and dignified gentleman, who had made it clear he wanted a low-key farewell, with the minimum of fuss, the occasion of that sunny Wednesday 19 April was a disgrace. And an insult to Charlie’s memory.
That he ignored his older brother’s dying wish, thus affording him the lack of respect and love he had all his life, says more about Reggie Kray’s self-obsessed, selfish and arrogant manner than anything I can.
Thankfully, and ironically, the saving grace was that in staging such a public funeral, albeit for his own glorification, Reggie did provide an opportunity for those who knew Charlie to pay their last respects. The streets and high office windows may have been crammed with gawpers and wannabe gangsters who had thrilled to the Kray legend, but inside St Matthew’s 300 people generated a warmth that, I’m sure, could only have come from those who genuinely knew and liked Charlie.
That warmth clearly did not exist between Reggie and Diana. The animosity between them, fuelled by Reggie’s outrageous behaviour over the burial plot, was symbolized by the seating arrangements, handled on the day by Flanagan but carefully planned by Reggie: Diana was in the front row, to the right of Charlie’s coffin, with Claudine and her son, Dean, and his family; Reggie was on the other side, handcuffed to a Wayland Prison officer, but clinging to his wife, Roberta, like a kid in the back row of the pictures. The gulf was only a matter of feet, but Charlie’s soulmate and his brother were worlds apart, as they had been for twenty-five years. They barely glanced at each other throughout the fifty-minute ceremony.
That Charlie was by far the most popular of the three brothers became evident when Freddie Foreman’s son, Jamie, stepped up to the lectern to read out messages from Charlie’s friends and acquaintances. Jamie, an accomplished TV and movie actor, is experienced in delivering written lines under testing conditions, but the emotion of the occasion and his love for Charlie got to him that day. Poor Jamie’s voice frequently cracked, and the loud sniffing among many of the congregation showed that he was not alone in being touched by such an enormous demonstration of affection.
Stepping down from the lectern, near to tears, Jamie said: ‘Charlie’s smile will be ingrained on my heart.’
After the hymn ‘Fight The Good Fight’, Sue stepped up to read her own tribute to Charlie. Few, if any, of the congregation, I suspect, would have expected to hear Shakespeare recited at his funeral, but that’s how my wife started her address.
And when he shall die, take him,
And cut him out in tiny stars,
And he shall make the heavens so bright
That all the world will be in love with night.
To Sue, those beautiful words, from Romeo and Juliet, seemed to sum up Charlie perfectly, because she went on to say: ‘My friend Charlie’s bright smile lit up any room…’ To a hushed church, she read her own tribute:
‘I have very clear images of Charlie all over our home – sharing dinner in the dining room, drinking coffee in the kitchen, partying in our lounge – but most clearly I can see him sitting in our garden, when he and my husband, Robin, were working on his book.
Charlie was a delight to work with. Of course, he always looked the business. Smart and clean and smelling sweet, he’d arrive, on time, with that wonderful smile to greet me. He would work hard with us, but, more important, I can still hear his wonderful laughter when recalling some of the great times he’d enjoyed with friends.
Many of you here will have your own memories of those stories: time spent with Charlie, your friend.
But, of course, he was far more than a friend to dear Diana.
Her memories span more than thirty years, from that wonderful moment when Charlie tracked her down and they were reunited, seven years after their chance meeting in Leicester.’
And then Sue read out the words she had written for Diana:
‘Charlie and I were a partnership. Like all relationships, it had its highs and lows. We shared a wonderful life that spun us in all directions. We had a superb time which we enjoyed to the full. There was lots of laughter and joy and the occasional sadness. There were so many good times shared with friends from all walks of life – most of you are here today. We all adored Charlie’s laughter and his wit. Something, I know, each and every one of us will always treasure.
I know, too, he has taken with him a small piece of each and every one of you here today. We have all lost someone very special.
It is a comfort to me that on the wet and windy night at the end, Charlie was sitting waiting for me. He said he knew I would come. I am so grateful I shared that time with him.
I will especially miss Charlie’s wonderful big blue, blue eyes. A picture of his enchanting smile will remain forever in my heart, until the day when I also walk into the light and am reunited with my Charlie.
Charlie, I just want to tell you how much I love you.
I love you twenty-two quid.’
Sue went on to read ‘Stop All the Clocks’, by W. H. Auden, on Diana’s behalf, then the beautiful words about fatherhood, written by Tony Holland, the creator of East-Enders, for Claudine and Dean. She finished her tribute with the poem by an anonymous writer, ‘Weep Not For Me’.
Not to be outdone, Reggie had recorded himself reciting the poem ‘Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep’, and his feeble voice echoed through the church on loudspeakers, leaving most, if not all, of the congregation bemused.
Five years before, Dave Courtney had talked Reggie out of playing his own recorded tribute at Ronnie’s funeral, and it was lamentable that Reggie didn’t have anyone with the guts to give him the same advice this time. Reggie deserves praise for wanting to make a personal contribution, but, quite honestly, his voice did not have the gravitas to make his reading anything but embarrassing for everyone who heard it. But, then, in his later years, Reggie always felt he knew best. And, judging by his reaction to the noisy crowds after the service, I’m sure he felt it was as much his day as Charlie’s. As the oak casket was carried from the church, to Shirley Bassey singing ‘As Long As He Needs Me’, and Reggie emerged into the bright sunshine, he gave a regal wave to the crowds, enthusiastically responding to Frankie Fraser’s call for ‘Three cheers for Reggie’.
‘As Long As He Needs Me’? In all my experience, Reggie was never there when Charlie needed him.
The Reggie Kray ‘Roadshow’ continued, as it had done at Ronnie’s funeral, with crowds lining the route to Chingford Cemetery and what has become known as ‘Kray Corner’ – the plot where Reggie’s parents, brother, nephew and wife are buried.
He paid his respects at each grave, then, with Roberta beside him, looked on stoically as Charlie’s coffin was lowered into the ground next to his beloved Gary. Who knows whether Reggie gave a thought to the unimaginable hurt he’d caused Diana and Claudine by planning to deny Charlie the right to slip into eternity with the son he adored so much?
As Reg was hugged and kissed by mourners, Diana said: ‘Charlie would have loved this sunshine.’ But her words were drowned by more cries of ‘Three cheers for Reg’, and ‘Take the cuffs off’, as Reggie was taken from the graveside to the blue people carrier waiting to take him back to Norfolk.
We had all come to bury Charlie, the Gentleman, but thousands had come to hail Reggie, the Gangster.
And that’s just the way he’d planned it.