40

 

            I was saying goodbye to Jack on the front step, when one of the kids Danny hung about with came reeling around the corner.  The tall skinny one with the stupid floppy hair.  He looked like he was shitting himself already, and when he clocked us he looked it even more, his big eyes growing bigger like saucers, as he skidded to a stop.  He had been running, and looked for a minute like he was going to fall over his own gangly legs.  I rolled my eyes at Jack, who chuckled softly and walked on down the path back to his car.  The skinny kid approached the door nervously, pulling the cuff of his scruffy shirt down over his hand and fiddling with it, as his eyes shot about all over the place.  I regarded him coldly, narrowing my eyes at him, flicking my ash out onto the path.  I held onto the edge of the door so that I could slam it in his face when needed. “Do you want something?” I asked him.

He stuttered the beginning of a reply, then stopped and looked away, as if expecting help to be close behind. Then he looked back at me and tried to peer around me into the hallway. “Is Danny about?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No idea.”  I decided that was enough conversation and slammed the door on his gawky gormless face.

I turned around, and there was the boy in question, flinging himself at the back door.  I laughed out loud and went after him.  So he’d been in the house the whole time had he?  Fucking hilarious.  I produced the back door key from my pocket and dangled it from my fingers when he turned slowly to stare at me in dawning horror.  “Looking for this little man?” The boy had his hands wrapped around the door handle, and despite seeing the key in my grasp, he continued to wrench it up and down.  I slipped the key back into my pocket and approached him casually.  My nostrils twitched as I got closer to him.  He reeked.  It was smoke, and beer, and dirt and weed, and mashed in with all of that was fear, pure and raw, and pulsing darkly behind his vivid blue eyes.  I was pleased to see it at last, so I took a moment to look him over, to consider him.  Then I shook my head in disgust and disapproval.  His clothes had been slept in, and were creased and dirtied.  I could see black dirt beneath every fingernail as his hands clung to the door handle.  I planted my hands on my hips and cocked my head to one side.  I licked my lower lip. “All right then?” I asked.

He gave up on the door and flattened himself against it, hands splayed out like starfish behind him.  “Where’s my mum?”

I laughed and leaned over him, placing one hand on the glass behind his head. “Well something happened, something terrible, and she had to go.”

“What?  What did you do?  What have you done to her?”

I laughed again. “I didn’t do anything little man. It’s your Gran, she had a bad fall and broke some bones. In really bad shape.  Your mum’s gone to look after her for a while.” I watched him taking this in, his mouth opening and closing in confusion, his brow furrowed with despair.  “She said she’ll phone in a few days to let you know how things are.”

“You’re a liar,” he said to me then, his face trembling, his shoulders growing rigid. “She wouldn’t just leave me here with you!”

I smiled, enjoying the way his face changed the more it sunk in.  I wondered if he would shit his own pants before today was through.  “Oh dear,” I said, offering him a sympathetic smile. “It looks like she has! Couldn’t wait to get away from you, if truth be told. Had a gutful of you lately mate. I did try to warn you.  Didn’t I eh?  I did try to make you listen.”

“You’ve probably done something to her!” he barked at me then, a flash of defiance returning to those eyes. “You were going mental when I left yesterday!”

I moved my face down to his, so that our noses were level.  “Well I expect she will call you in a few days and let you know she’s just fine.  Although I did tell her not to worry about a thing.  Said it would give us some much needed time together eh?  Just you and me.  Gives us a chance to iron things out eh?” I smiled a delicate, thin smile and stared right into his eyes.  I searched them, meaning to locate the slightest sliver of anger and stamp it out.  “Don’t worry about a thing,” I told him soothingly. “Everything will be alright. You might not have your dad, or your brother, or your mum around, but you have me eh? You’re not alone see.  I’m still here for you, because I care, you know, I care how you turn out little man.”

He started shaking his head, no.  He went to move off, to get past, but I put a hand to his shoulder and kept him still.  I examined him again.  Dirty, stinking clothes. That long scruffy hair.  He reminded me of every piss soaked loser who had ever rolled into one of my bars, desperate for salvation and hunting for it at the end of a bottle.  “You’re lying,” he started chattering. “You’ve done something to her, I know, I saw, I saw the cops! I heard them!” He was panicking now, I could see.  I held him back against the door and stared at him hard.

“Shut up and calm down. I’ll do the talking thanks.  By the time she comes back, we’ll be like one happy family, okay?”  I think I drifted off for a moment then, just lost maybe, in the importance of it all.  I remembered seeing Kay off, helping her to pack her bags and take them to the car.  Don’t worry about a thing, I had assured her.  I’ll be just fine with Danny, I promise.  I can cope with whatever he throws at me.

“Let me go!” the little shit was growling at me now, his hands on mine, his grubby little fingers trying to prise mine from his shoulder.  I clamped them down and stared into his face. He looked and sounded like a vicious little animal, and I realized then that was what he was, at the end of the day.  An untamed animal.  Utterly wild.  I felt my patience run into a brick wall, and it was all that he deserved.  “Let me pass!  Get the fuck off me!” I felt my body tense, bristling under the surface, and the blue eyes were flashing back at me like angry sirens, and my mind retraced steps to threats in the kitchen and to aching balls and how it should never have happened.  That whining little voice.  That screwed up little face.  Angry.  That angry little face, when it should have been scared, and sorry.

“Right!” I roared into his face then. “Time to learn some lessons!  The first one being getting that look out of your eyes!” I jabbed him right in the eye with my finger then, and he cried out in horrible pain, his hands flying to his face, his body crumpling down the door.  He cried out like I’d thrown acid in his face or something.  I closed my hand around his neck and pulled him back up. “It out now?” I bellowed at him. “Has that fucking look gone?  That fucking look!” He struggled and gasped beneath my grip, so I clamped down harder.  I could feel everything that way.  I could feel the energy in those thin muscles, like coiled springs, as the fear and the rage surged through his body like electricity.  I could feel it all hot and sizzling beneath his clothes. I checked his pockets and right away found another knife. “Where the fuck d’you keep getting these from?  It’s those filthy friends of yours, isn’t it eh?  Those scumbags around the corner!”

I wrenched him from the room.  I discovered that his neck was so small and puny that my fingers met around the front, creating a perfect circle.  I took him upstairs like that, barely aware of the fingernails that raked and tore at my hand.  I kicked open his bedroom door and then kicked it shut again behind us “Time for lessons,” I told him. “You’re a constant fucking thorn in my side, you know that?” I peered into his bright red face, as it seemed to swell and distort right before my eyes.  “Has that angry defiant look gone yet, has it?” I peered into his eyes but all I could see was bulging eyeballs and bloodshot whites. I threw a fist into his stomach and right away his legs went, and the air whooshed right out of him like a balloon being deflated, but I didn’t let him fall, I held him up by the neck.  “I better teach you the rules so you don’t forget this time. I’ll teach you how to behave.  I’ll teach you how to be a good boy, eh?  That’s what you’ll be when I’m done, you got that you little shit stain?” I pulled my fist back again, and let him have it a second time.  I let him drop, and he hit the floor and curled right up, moaning, gasping, sucking in huge gusts of air.

I found a cigarette while the boy found his breath, and lit it up and just smoked it calmly for a few moments while I watched him.  He coughed, over and over, and wrapped an arm around his body, while his other hand  rubbed at his neck.  How are you going to get out of this now, I wanted to ask him, what’s your plan?  His chest was heaving in and out.  I felt all of the power and control seeping through me and I inhaled his fear, finally, sucked it right up.  I smoked, and examined the target for a moment, the cigarette pinched between my teeth, and then I aimed a kick between his shoulder blades and sent the little fucker right across the room.  “I’ll break you if I’m not careful,” I mused and walked over to him.  He was by the window, moaning and shaking.  “Not so tough now are you eh?” I asked him and kicked him in the arse. “Not such a big man now!”

41

 

            What I discovered was pain has many different levels, as does hate.

I also discovered that fear is worse than pain, far, far worse.  I remembered this from before and tried to tell myself again.  Pain is just pain, I said inside my own head while my body was being taken apart on the outside.  Don’t let him take you apart on the inside.  What?  I don’t know, just don’t let him, don’t let him.

I tried to stay out of it.  This was a scene I wanted no part of.  I wasn’t there if I didn’t want to be, and this was not really happening to me, but was a dream, or a thought, or an imagining.  I tried to curl up safe and untouched in the darkness of my own mind, while the different levels of pain played out their symphony all over my body.  Pain was a warning bell I told myself.  It was what it was.  Like stubbing your toe, or falling over, or nicking yourself with a knife.  It was just your body telling you that something was wrong.  My body was screaming at me, trying to get my attention.  That was good.  The pain blocked out the fear, and that was good, because the fear was worse, the fear became you and consumed you and then you didn’t even want to live anymore.

I was on the floor, and he was still kicking the shit out of me.  At times he seemed demented with it.  Like an animal.  I caught glimpses of his snarling sweaty face, his rolling balls of eyes, his gritted teeth, and I thought he’s gonna kill me, and that’s it, that’s how it all ends, before it ever really begun, and I haven’t even got any fucking music on.  I would have liked to die to some music, at least.  I would have liked that.  Then he would slow right down, and that was worse.  He took his time about it.  Thought about where to kick me, and I guess there was a logic behind that, fuck knows.  He walked around me in circles, smoking and flicking his ash at me.  When he had sucked the life out of his smoke, he crouched down next to me, lifted up my t-shirt and stubbed it out on my ribs.  I howled into the carpet then, tears flooding my eyes and soaking my cheeks. I screamed and I shrieked a promise to him inside my own head, one day I will fucking kill you, I will get you back I will kill you!

He’d lost the plot, gone insane, gone mental.  Was he ever going to stop? My face pressed into the carpet, I wondered if I would die there.  I thought, I am fourteen years old and I’m going to die like this, on my bedroom floor… I helplessly considered my organs rupturing and exploding within me. I could almost imagine my liver, my heart, my kidneys all under attack with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

Howard was muttering away.  Something about me being a good boy now, about never messing with him again.  I closed my eyes against the floor, took another kick to the ribs and thought no mate, I won’t mess with you, I will just fucking kill you…Still, his voice droned on, eerily pleasant and easy going now.  He picked me up then, scooped me up from the floor with his meaty arms and dropped me onto my bed.  For some reason, I felt even more helpless there, exposed and vulnerable, and there was something so sedate and planned about all of it, something that made me want to cry out, to rebel and reject it.  But I was choked up, I was wound up so tight with layers of pain, one piled on top of the next and nowhere for it to go.  “Do what you’re told and everything will be fine,” he was telling me from above.  “Fuck me off, do it wrong, and I will punish you.  Easy.  Simple.”

I was on my front.  I coughed and turned my head to see him unbuckling his belt and pulling it free from the loops of his jeans.  I closed my eyes when the first strike came.  He put his foot on my shoulders to keep me down.  There was nowhere to go.  There was nothing to say.  There just came slices of sharp, needling pain, the kind that takes your breath away from you and makes you feel as cold as ice.  He panted with the exertion of each flick of the belt.  “This will sort you out!” he was raging from above. “Fucking little shit stain! You won’t fuck with me after this!”

He was right and he was wrong.

I’ll tell you something though.  There is pain, and there is bad pain, and there is pain that makes you cry and scream, and there is pain that you actually wish would just kill you so it will be over, and then there is pain that breaks you.  I felt it collapse inside of me if you want to know the truth.  My fight, my rebellion, my fuck you, all of it, the whole lot.  It was like a stack of cards being swept to the floor.  It was like a brick wall tumbling slowly down. I’d thought it was impossible to feel any more pain, but I was wrong.  This built a whole new layer on top of the rest, and I couldn’t take it.  I would have done anything for it to stop, for it to go away.  I cried and sobbed and screamed into my duvet.  My back was on fire.  I was crying and mumbling and drooling and begging him to stop.  He did stop then.  The belt dropped onto me, and lay there, like a dead hot snake, and I sensed him leaning over me again, examining what he saw.  I tried to tell him.  I tried to let him know what he had done.  I opened my mouth and wanted to tell him okay, he had won, I was down, I was beaten, but my throat was clogged up with fear and blood and all that came out was thick coughing.  My mouth felt full of it, and my nostrils too, struggling to work.

I was trying to nod at him, trying to tell him to stop, trying to tell him whatever the fuck he wanted to hear.  He leaedt down close to me and took my face in his hands and pulled me around to see him.  His eyes were slits in his face.  His mouth turned down.  He did not seem happy, or anything.  Just still and calm, and then he brought his other hand up, balled it into a fist and pressed it against my cheek.  I stared into his eyes, desperate to understand what I saw there, what he was.  I wondered if I was staring into the eyes of a devil, of something inhuman and evil, and in the horror of it all I felt my bladder let go, and I felt the warmth of urine spreading out from my crotch.

He rolled his fist across my face, from my cheek up to my eye socket, and from my eye down to my nose, and chin.  His expression was pensive, wondering.  Then his eyes widened in sudden inexplicable excitement, and his tongue shot out the corner of his mouth, as he seized upon one of the tears that fell from my eye.  He pressed his thumb hard into the wet trail it left, as if checking it was what he thought it was.  And then his hand fell away quickly and he stood back, and I watched him through swollen eyes and saw his face change yet again.  I thought I saw just a tiny flicker of guilt, or alarm as he stepped back from me and pointed his finger.  “Hope you’ve learnt your lesson,” he said to me, his chest rising and falling as he spoke. “You’ll do everything you can to stay on my good side now won’t you eh? You’re gonna’ do it now, aren’t you?  You’re gonna’ be good?” He waited for an answer so I blinked and nodded.  “Good,” he said, and he did look pleased, you know, like this was a job well done.  He even rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles. “Good. You can help me get the house nice and clean for your mum, and you can start coming over the club to help out, earn yourself some money, what about that eh? Sound good? And no more hanging about with those scummy kids. You might find they’re not so keen to be mates with you after today anyway.  Sorted them out too I have.  But I warned you didn’t I?  I warned all of you not to mess with me.”

I felt a rising scrambling panic in my chest then, and the tears were coming thick and fast, and I wanted to ask him what, what had he done?  What the fuck had he done to them?  I remembered the police car, and the wail of sirens when I had been hiding in the lounge, and the strange man, and Jake at the door, and all of it weighed me down, pressed me right down into the bed.  I truly felt like I would never get up again, never feel the surface of the earth beneath my feet again. I felt like I was done.  I was over.  Howard nodded at me, pursed his lips and left my room, closing the door softly behind him.

I listened, my breath held like a prisoner within my throat as his footsteps continued down the stairs.  I heard the TV go on in the lounge, and within seconds he was laughing and cheering down there to some wrestling match he had recorded.  I could hear kids outside on their bikes, screeching and laughing, skidding around the close, calling out to each other in the sunshine.  Doing circuits, I thought, around and around, so that their mums could still see them from the window.  Everything out there remained bright and friendly and normal.  I moved onto my side, relieving the pressure on my back, and I lifted a shaking hand to wipe at my face, but it seemed pointless.  I was covered in blood and sweat and snot and tears.  I was cocooned in a tight blanket of pain and shock.  The fear was spreading through me now, as the shock kicked in.  It careered through me like some kind of disease, like something rotting me from the inside.  I didn’t know what to do, but I guessed that was fine, because there was nothing I could do.  I could barely move.

I knew what he had done, and why.  He had filled my body with pain.  So much pain that it blotted everything else out.  It became the winner, the victor.  My head, my heart, my soul was all full of it.  Pain and fear spinning in circles, endlessly.  When I look back now, I can see exactly why he did it, and I can see how it worked.  There is only so much you can take, you see.  Only so much you can take before you’ll do anything and become anyone just to make it stop.  I felt myself falling to pieces on that bed, and I cried for me and I cried for my friends, and I felt like a dirty little shit who had no right to feel anything, and the feeling only made me cry harder.

I fell asleep, or I fell unconscious, I am not sure which.  I woke up at one point, and it was dark, and I wondered if Howard had gone to the club, and I wondered if I could escape, or call someone, but when I tried to move my body screamed at me to stop.  I moaned into my hands, as all the deep and shaking layers of pain awakened within me.  All I could do was gently wrestle my duvet over my head and bury myself in the darkness.  I thought to myself, I am lying here covered in blood and piss, and I can’t do anything about it.  Michaels jeans clung to my thighs, drenched in stale urine.  I felt cold with disgust.

The next time I woke up, it was morning, and I could hear Howard downstairs on the phone.  I pushed the duvet away from my head and strained my ears to listen.  “He won’t make it in all week,” he was saying to someone. “Probably not next week either, going by the state of him….Yeah, he’s seen the doctor.  It’s all superficial to be honest, nothing broken, but you know, a lot of discomfort….Lucky he didn’t kill himself really, kids eh?” There was a long silence, and all I could hear then was my own rasping, congested breathing.  “Oh yeah, no problem, I’ll call in later and pick up any work…Ah yes, yes, we have spoken to him about walking out on Friday.  I know.  I know, skating on thin ice eh?…Okay.  Okay, no problem, thank you Mr James…bye now.”

I blinked my shock and outrage.  I felt a tiny shiver of helpless fury and frustration.  The stinking repulsive liar.

38

 

            I was in a foul and filthy mood all weekend.  In fact I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so pent up with frustration and evil intent.  The worse thing about it was not being able to tell anyone why.  I had to deal with the usual shit at work with a swollen ball sack, and a quivering crawl of rage clinging to my spine.  I blamed my bad mood on the unreliable builders, and staff who couldn’t seem to do anything properly, and the bastard boy stayed out all weekend, doing as he pleased.  “Thought you didn’t like him hanging around with those kids,” I complained to Kay on Friday night when I got back from the club and slipped into bed beside her.

“He’s at Billy’s,” she murmured, keeping her eyes closed. “Don’t mind Billy.”

“But they’ll all be there!” I protested, indignantly. “And I bet if you phoned his parents now, they won’t know a thing about it!  Bet they’re all round at the Andersons place, where there are no parents Kay.  No parents. Is that okay with you?”  But she was already snoring again, so I had no choice but to switch off the lamp and slip down under the duvet.  I crossed my arms behind my head and glared at the ceiling.  Down below, my balls ached and groaned.  I couldn’t even allow myself to think about it too much.  The anger was too much to contain, too much to hold onto.  A skinny weasly little kid like that kicking me in the balls.  Getting away.  The anger clouded by mind every time I remembered it.  He hadn’t even said sorry.  He hadn’t even looked scared, or anything.  Just the same flashing eyes, the same curled lip, the same, the same!  I had to keep hold of myself.  I had to remind myself that Freeman was on his way.  That an empire was being constructed and you didn’t build something like that in a day.  It took time.  But the wheels were in motion.

I wondered if he dared to come home the next day, after all of that, but he did.  Kay spotted him from the lounge window, late on Saturday afternoon.  She watched him through the net curtains, as if in a dream.  Her shoulders loose and lolling, a yellow duster dangling from one hand, a cleaning spray clutched in the other.  I was lying on the sofa, catching up on some wrestling from the night before.  I felt dark.  I’d had a headache all day, and still, my balls throbbed.   I watched Kay yawn and shake back her hair.  Then she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Look at him, scuffing along. Why doesn’t he just ride the bloody bike?  He must feel left out of all his friends!”

I snorted laughter behind her. “Kay, that boy takes the piss out of you on a daily basis.  He does ride the bike, I’ve seen him.  He just pretends he doesn’t to get at you.”

She shook her head again and sighed. “The lies that come out of his mouth…”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I complained, shifting with a wince on the sofa. “I’ve had no joy getting him to do his chores lately either. His room will have rats in it soon.”

“I’ve got to get him to do something about his hair!”  She lifted the net then, shook her head at him and squirted the spray at the glass.  “He can’t even see where he’s going Lee.”

“He doesn’t brush it, doesn’t wash it,” I added, rolling my eyes. “I’m surprised they let him in school looking like that. Oh that reminds me, you had a call from them.”

She spun around then, mouth open. “What about?”

I shifted again, narrowing my eyes as I heard the back door open and close.  “Well apparently he walked out yesterday, before the bell.  Just took himself off.”

I watched as her shoulders sank even lower. She pressed the hand with the duster to her face and grimaced behind it. “Oh god not again, do we have to go through all this again?  You’ll have to talk to him Lee. He won’t even look at me, let alone listen to me.”

“You’re not tough enough.”

She dropped the hand and leaned back against the window, crossing her arms over her waist.  “Danny can you come in here a minute please!” she called out, keeping her eyes on me.  I picked up the remote and pressed pause on the video.  He slunk in, hair all over his face, giving it the smallest of shakes so that he could peer out at us through one scowling eye.

“What?”

Kay swallowed, bracing herself. “You’re grounded.”

He crossed his arms.  Shot a look at me.  “Why?”

“You know why,” she snapped, hands going to hips now, cheeks flushing. “Did you think the school wouldn’t phone and tell us that you walked out?”

He shrugged.  “I felt ill.”

“Liar,” I barked from the sofa.  Kay looked at me.  They both did.  She was giving me the eyes, all soft and pleading, her weakness showing already.  Danny pushed his hair back with one hand and stared at me with a challenge in his eyes.  I wiped my mouth.  Sat up a bit.  Tried to work out why the fuck he wasn’t looking scared, or worried…or anything.

“Can we have this conversation without him involved?” he asked his mother while he eyes bore into mine, as if trying to tell me something.  I bristled nervously.

“Your mum wants me here,” I spoke up before she could. “You won’t listen to her or respect her, so she wants me to help. And you’re grounded.  For a week.  And your friends are not allowed over here, and you will tidy your room properly and do the chores I’ve asked you to do all week.”  I lifted my eyebrows, daring him to refuse.  I saw his mouth snap shut.  His eyes widened at me, and he drew breath in through his nostrils to puff out his chest.

“You haven’t asked me to do any chores, you liar,” he said to me. “All you do is pick on me and criticize.  See mum?  It’s him, not me!”

I pulled up my legs and lowered them to the floor.  If Kay had not been there I would have ground his sneering little face into the carpet.  She put down the cloth and the spray and held out her hands, looking from me to him. “Come on you two, calm down,” she said. “Danny, you need to listen to Lee and…”

“You need to listen to me,” he snapped, talking over her. “You need to open your eyes!  Look, time it, give it five minutes and count how many times he is a prick to me for no reason. You just don’t pay attention!”

“You snivelling little git,” I heard myself complaining as I shifted to face him properly.  There he was.  Five foot nothing of skanky haired arrogance.  He was stood like a little rigid bull ready to charge.  I’d held a knife to his skinny neck and he was facing me like I was nothing, like I was no one.  His face lit up in satisfaction.

“One!” he shouted at his mother.  I felt my headache looming, rearing back to life behind my eyes and in my temples.  And every time I moved, my testicles would nudge me with dull, lingering pain.  I felt it.  I felt it jarring through my crotch.  The school shoe hammering up into my privates, smashing them.

“Shut up and go to your room,” I told him, shaking my head, warning him.  “Get up there and tidy it instead of standing her arguing with us! It’s not so hard, is it?  Doing what you’re told?” My voice had climbed louder. Kay lifted her hands once again and sort of waved them at us.

“Two!” he shouted again, his eyes gleaming with a triumph I could not fathom. “Anything else?”

“You cheeky little shit!” I roared, half up. “Do as you’re told and get to your room!”

“Three,” he announced, shooting a brief smile at Kay. “Called me a shit.”

“Little bastard, go on get up there!” I gestured violently with one hand, urging him away.  Inside me my blood was boiling and thick and rushing to my brain.  I stood up with the remote control clenched in one hand.  “Do as you are told! Now!”

“Four.”

“Danny,” his mother pleaded then, rubbing at her mouth with one anxious flapping hand. “Enough now, just go up, please, go on.”

He didn’t say anything.  He just smiled at me, goading me, looking cock sure and full of himself.  Slam.  I felt that foot thundering into my balls, causing an explosion of pain that made me feel sick.  I felt sick now.  My head pounded at him.  I shook my head once. Pointed my finger. “Go up.  Now.  When are you going to get it through your thick head, that none of this childish shit is gonna’ split me and her up?  Eh?  That’s what this is all about isn’t it?  Day in, day out, doing whatever you can to come between us.”

“Five,” he said.

“What the fuck?  What are you going on about?”

“Danny stop it,” Kay begged, both hands at her mouth now.

“Look what you’re doing to your mother, and you don’t even care do you? You’re the most spoilt, selfish boy I’ve ever met!”  He stared back at me, fearlessly. There was something coming from his eyes then.  They burned with it, something reckless and dangerous, something that told me this was all starting to escalate out of my control. His eyes were big and round and electric blue, and his body faced mine, standing his ground, standing tall.  I felt a sharp pain clawing behind my eyes.  I squeezed them shut, trying to block it out.

“Six,” he announced calmly, smoothly.  My eyes shot open.  I looked at Kay.

“Will you stop him?” I begged her, holding my head. “I don’t feel well baby, and this is all he ever does!  Throws tantrums and winds me up!  Please baby, just get him away from me, he’s getting on my last nerve.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he stated quietly.  Yes he was, and he knew he was.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was just another vicious attempt to ruin things between me and Kay.  As usual she appeared frozen and distraught.

“You know what you are doing!” I roared at him, the words spewing from my mouth before I had the chance to contain them.  “You’re doing what you always do when she’s at work!  Being rude and arrogant, winding me up!  Trying to get rid of me!”

“Six,” the little shit declared, really smiling now, as he looked at his mother and nodded in satisfaction.  I lost it then.  One minute the remote control was clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles ached, and the next it was spinning through the air towards his head. He ducked, and it smashed against the wall. “Seven!” he yelled, and ran.

“You better run!” I bellowed after him, sinking in urgency back onto the sofa.  My head was a horrible mess of pain and banging.  Kay said nothing.  I watched her move to the wall, and bend down to pick up the control.  She straightened up and looked at it in her hands.  The plastic black casing had split all down one side, and the battery compartment was hanging off.  The phone was ringing in the hallway but she made no move to answer it.  She just stared down at the broken remote.  “Honey, he drove me to it,” I said then, and she blinked and looked at me. “My head, it’s a migraine or something,” I told her pleadingly. “I just need to lie down.  I’m sorry honey, he pushed me too far. You’ve no idea how awful he’s been lately.  Aren’t you going to answer the phone Kay?”  She shook her head slightly and placed the control on the arm of the sofa. “Baby?  The phone?”

“Oh yes, right.  God.”  She stalked out into the hall and I sank back into the sofa.  Jesus Christ, I thought, fucking unbelievable.  Winding me up like that.  I glanced nervously at the broken control and chewed at my thumb nail.  I could hear her murmuring softly in the hallway.  I wasn’t throwing it at him, I would tell her when she came back.  I was aiming at the wall, and I just wanted to shut him up, make him go away, leave me alone…

She came back in then and her face was pale.  She frowned at me and her eyes were confused. “It’s my mother,” she said. “She’s had a bad fall.  She’s in the hospital.”

39

 

 

            I was smiling as I turned the corner, and I smiled even more when I spotted Anthony sat on his front step, polishing his shoes.  I sauntered over to him, my shoulders beginning to shake with a daring chuckle, my head full of the flying remote control and the kick to the balls.  He looked up when he saw me coming, and squinted in the sun.  I liked the way he was sat out there like that, with the front door wide open, and all the curtains pulled back.  It was funny really, how the place seemed more of a home when Mrs Anderson was not in it.  We could go around to the front door, avoiding the debris of the alley way, and Anthony was always there, exerting this forceful kind of calm, and authority.  I thought Michael was lucky, having a brother like that.  A proper brother.  “You just missed Mike,” he called out to me as I approached. “Made him take some videos back for me.”

I stopped in front of him and found my pockets with my hands. “Was just looking for somewhere to kill some time,” I shrugged at him.

“He’ll be back in a minute. Are you guys camping out again tonight?”

“Was just about to ask my mum,” I said, gazing back over my shoulder.  “Oh well.  Fuck it.”

“Why are you still in your school clothes?” he grinned at me.  I looked down at myself, and laughed.

“Oh yeah!” I glanced back again, not relishing the idea of going back. “D’you think Mike would lend me some of his? I can’t face going back there again.”

“Course he will. Here, have a seat.” Anthony shifted along so that I could sit down next to him on the step.  He paused in his polishing, his eyes on me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Mike doesn’t seem to think so.  What about that fucker over there?  He leaving you alone like I asked him to?”  His eyes held mine, and I hesitated, my mind retracing steps to the hand twisting in my hair, and the knife on my neck.  Then I reminded myself of the kick to his nuts, and of the remote hitting the wall instead of me, and the look of horror on my mothers face.  I nodded at Anthony.

“Yeah, I think he got the message.”

“Well,” he said with a sigh. “I suppose that’s good enough.”

That night, the four of us reconvened at the base, with sleeping bags and blankets rolled up under our arms.  We had all told our parents we were sleeping at Billy’s and he had told his he was staying at Michaels.  “Looks like I’ve got myself a job,” Jake was complaining, once we were all settled.  We had built a campfire, and were sat around it perched on logs and wrapped in blankets.  It felt like the night, and the good mood would last forever.  Like there was no coming back down from this moment, from togetherness and laughter and peace.  We groaned collectively in response to Jake’s announcement.

“The café?” Michael laughed, as he rolled a joint on the lid of his tin.  He was becoming pretty deft at it now, and concentrated like hell on every single one he constructed, declaring each to be better than the last. Jake rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Just don’t turn up!” Billy advised, jabbing at the fire with a long stick.  “You don’t want to work there mate. Imagine all the tossers from school coming in, you’ll have to serve them, and they’ll all take the piss out of you!”

“I know, I know,” said Jake, rolling a fist into his tired eyes. “I can’t do anything about it. He’s obsessed with me having a job.”

“Well at least you’ll have your own money,” I pointed out.

“Yeah and no fucking time to spend it in!” laughed Billy.  “Oh fuck it up mate, you’re gonna’ have to.  Turn up late.  Or stoned!  Steal from them!”

I had a smile on my face for all of them. I thought about how great last night had been at Billy’s, all of us together, almost every minute spent rolling around with endless belly aching laughter.  And now here we were, bundled in blankets while the dark skies cloaked us in a solitude that felt intimate, and safe.  I felt like I did not have a care in the world, and although that was a lie, I let myself go along with it, because it felt so good.  When Michael passed the joint my way, I took it, whispered a thank you and dragged on it hungrily.  The sweet smoke rushed into my lungs, sending an instant seep of calm through my bones.  “I love your brother Mike,” I told him, as I grinned up at the black, scarred skies.

“He’s the best,” agreed Billy, as Jake nodded sleepily.

“I know it,” said Michael. “Oh that reminds me. Here you go.” He dug into his pocket and hurled something at me. “For you.  In case you need it.”

I picked the folded pen knife up from my stomach and turned it over wonderingly in my hands.  “Oh my god Mike, this is a cool knife!”

“Courtesy of Anthony,” he told me proudly.  I held it in my hand for a moment longer, enjoying the cold weight of it against my skin.  Then I tucked it down into the pocket of the jeans I had borrowed.  It felt like a comfort, and a friend, sitting there.

“I might not need it so bad anyway,” I told them all then.  “Things are looking up.”

Billy suddenly jerked into a sitting position and starting waving his hands about in the air.  His mouth was stuffed tight with pink marshmallows, and he was faced with the option of eating them quickly, or spitting them out.  “He’s having a fit or something!” Jake burst out, slapping his own knee in amusement.  We all fell about laughing then, as Billy continued to wave his hands about, whilst munching as fast as he could on his mouthful of marshmallows.  We were wiping tears from our eyes by the time he finally swallowed the last lump, and took a massive breath. “Shit guys! I totally forgot! Got something really important to tell you!”

“Whoa hang on, hang on,” said Michael, holding one hand up at Billy while he nodded at me. “Danny was gonna’ say something first.”

Billy groaned and looked like he was going to wet himself if he had to hold it in much longer, but he accepted the joint from Jake and waited his turn.  I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them.  I felt all of their eyes turn on me.  “Well,” I said slowly. “Just about Howard, that’s all.  He’s probably still losing the plot right now, I mean. I wound him up a bit in front of my mum, ‘cause I just wanted her to see what an arsehole he really is, and he totally fell for it. Lost it and threw the remote at me!  Right in front of her!”

“Oh my god really?” cried Jake.  Michael shook his head at me darkly.

“Fucking bastard.”

“Yeah but now she sees him,” I enthused, looking around at them all. “Now she sees what he’s really like!”

“She’ll kick him out for sure,” Jake was nodding in certainty. “No way can he go round doing things like that.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Nah I doubt she’ll throw him out…not yet anyway. She’s in too deep. She swallows all the shit he feeds her.  But it’s a start, and I feel better anyway, and the other thing, you know yesterday when I was in the base?” They all nodded back at me, eyes wide and expectant and excited. “Well I’d just run from home. You know why? ‘Cause he started picking on me so I kicked him in the balls!”

“Noooooooo!” Billy screamed at me from across the fire, slapping his hands to the sides of his face, his jaw falling open, while Jake clapped his hands together and hooted with laughter.

“No way!  Nice one Danny!”

Michael had scrambled onto his knees. He reached for me and pounded me on my back with sheer delight and energy, his brown eyes shining with pleasure. “Danny you legend that is shit hot! You should have told us yesterday!  That’s the best thing I ever heard!  Did you get him really good?  This is great news mate, great news. That smug bastard is going down.”

“I got him real good,” I looked back at him and grinned.  I couldn’t take my eyes off their faces then, any of them.  They were all fired up, on my behalf, slapping hands with each other and punching fists at the air.  “Pounded those nuts,” I went on. “Next time I’ll fucking stamp on them!”

“Brilliant,” Jake said. “Love it. He’ll be on his way out for sure mate. His bags will be fucking packed by now.”

“Well whatever happens I bet you feel taller eh?” Michael asked, smiling warmly at me. “Well done mate, wait til I tell Anthony!  You fucking showed him!”

“You kicked him in the balls!” Billy squealed, erupting into helpless giggles all over again.  “Little old you!  The fucking size of him!”

“Hey come on,” Michael said to him. “You had something to say.”

“Oh shit yeah!” Billy leaned forward and passed the joint back to Michael. “Okay okay,” he said, stifling a huge yawn. “You won’t believe this guys.  This will knock your fucking socks off!”

We all looked at each other, and that was it, we were off again, rolling around laughing, screaming.  I don’t know why it was funny, but it just was.  I kept picturing Billy with his socks off, and that was it, infectious laughter I could not contain.  My eyes were running now, and my belly ached, and the more annoyed Billy looked, the more I wanted to laugh at him.  “Come on now,” he urged us finally. “This is serious!  This is actually very serious, and it’s about Howard Danny, so shut the fuck up laughing.”

“Go on,” said Michael, nudging me. “Spit it out.”

I was off again then, fuck knows why.  I had to curl up into a ball with my forehead against the ground and screech my laughter into the earth.  Billy threw a pine cone at me, and Michael prodded me with one foot.  I couldn’t help it.  Maybe I was losing the plot myself, who knows?  Maybe laughter was the way it started; going insane, losing your mind.  I felt so weak with it, I had to roll onto my back and press my hands over my mouth.  I couldn’t look at any of them.  It was that bad.  If I had made eye contact with any of them I would have been screaming again.  So I held onto my mouth, choked on giggles and listened.

“Well first thing is,” I heard Billy saying. “Steve don’t work there anymore. Came over last night and said it.  He got let go.”

“Why?” asked Jake.  Michael was silent, and watching.  I could feel his mood darkening quickly, and I imagined his face straightening right out, those powerful eyes beginning to scowl under his hair.  I thought about that and tried not to react to Billy’s news.  It was horrible though.  The bad feeling spreading through my guts.  I didn’t have to press down my giggles any more then.  I just wanted Billy to shut up.

“Officially Howard told him he’s got too many staff with the refit going on, so he’s letting some go, but Steve reckons that’s bullshit. Obviously Howard’s found out he dates my sister, and so he got rid of him.  Makes sense.”

“Shame for Steve,” remarked Jake.

“Nah,” said Billy. “He’s off to uni somewhere soon anyway, he wasn’t arsed about the job really. Said he hated working for that guy anyway.  But anyway, listen, that’s not the whole thing, that’s not all of it.  Last night, Steve is clearing out his locker in the staff room, when he heard Howard and Phillips having this argument next door. The staff room is right next door to their office, apparently. Anyway the door is shut, but Steve is all alone, so he presses up to the wall and he can listen in.  Phillips sounds totally out of it, he reckoned. Shouting and swearing, banging into stuff, really pissed up.  And Howard is just laughing at him.  Not in a nice way.” Billy paused then, and I got the feeling he was waiting for me to say something, but I had nothing to say.  I sat up though, slowly and stiffly, hating the way their eyes were all on mine in this dark and expectant way.  Truth was, I just didn’t want to hear or know this kind of stuff.  Billy took a breath and went on.  “Anyway Phillips is shouting, accusing Howard of fiddling the books and stealing from him! Then he hears Howard laughing, and he says no one would believe a washed up old drunk like him anyway.” Billy’s eyes grew wide as he looked around at us, as it sunk in. “Didn’t even try to deny it guys.”

“Fuckinghell,” breathed Jake, his brow low over his eyes.  He shivered in his t-shirt and pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

I was nodding.  Seemed like all I could do was nod, at Billy, and at Mike as he stared at me questioningly. “Shit Billy, Steve was lucky they didn’t catch him,” he said. His eyes were intense with excitement and fear.

“He was too nervous to listen to any more, so he left,” Billy shrugged. They all looked at me then, indicating it was my turn to speak, to comment.  I tried to force some fuck it kind of smile, but the information seemed to clog and choke my insides, and my face felt too rigid and frozen to move.  There was terror, clawing at me from within, trying to scrape its way free, and all I wanted them to do was change the subject, talk about something mundane or stupid or boring or funny. I looked down at the ground in a trembling silence and I wanted Billy never to have brought it up.  It didn’t feel useful for me to hear what a twisted bastard Howard was.  I knew that already.  I didn’t want to know about any of it.  I gave a half shrug to satisfy them.

“Makes sense,” I muttered. “He wants that place all to himself I bet.  Phillips will be gone in no time.” I picked up a stick and poked at the ground with it.

“But we know now!” Billy seemed excited to point out. He looked around at us desperately. “You know, it’s information!  We can blackmail him or whatever! We can stop him!”

“Dunno how realistic that is Bill,” said Michael, with a slight smile. “Don’t think anyone would listen to us lot, you know.”

I nodded and laughed a little. “Yep.”

“But it is useful, right?” Michael looked at me hopefully.  “One way or another?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged back.

“Well next time you kick him in the balls you can tell him you know what a thieving stinking bastard he is!” Billy yelled, dissolving into giggles once again.  Jake started to shake with laughter beside him.

“I can’t get that image out of my head. It must’ve felt so good.”

“Well anyway, maybe your mum would’ve seen sense by now and chucked him out, hey?” Michael picked up a fir cone and hurled it at Jake. “Stop dicking around, you’re letting the fire go out!”

I was relieved.  Michael had ended the conversation, and I listened to it stumble onto other things.  School, girls, music.  I let the information churn around in my head for a while, because there was nothing else to do with it.  Eventually it got tired and fell down asleep, and so did I.  I fell asleep long before they all did, my body too full of drink and pot and everything else, to stay awake any longer.

I woke up in the morning with The Smiths singing in my ears.  Was a nice but kind of sad thing to wake up to.  This bright blue sky, streaked with stretches of cloud, and the pleading tones of Morrisey strumming through my mind as I stared up at it all. Haven’t had a dream in a long time, see the life I’ve had would make a good man bad, so for once in my life, let me get what I want, Lord knows it would be the first time. I sung along for a bit, my arms folded behind my head, my lips moving silently to the music.  One by one, I watched the others struggle into consciousness, stretch out their limbs and brush the night from their eyes.  Jake was in a hurry.  He had to start work, and ran around yawning and raking his long fingers through his tousled hair.  We laughed at him when he left.  Well Michael and Billy called things out to him, which I could not hear, because I kept my headphones on.  I stayed where I was, on the ground, rolled in a blanket.  I didn’t want to go anywhere ever.

Mike kicked me when they were leaving.  I pulled my earphones off. “Eh what?”

“Going back to mine for breakfast and movies, come on.”

“I’m staying here,” I told him, though I had no idea why, I just knew that I was.  They laughed at me and cycled off together.  I closed my eyes.  It was just me and the music, I thought.    I stayed like that for ages, listening to song after song.  Sometimes I kept my eyes shut, and I could have been anywhere I suppose, floating in the middle of the ocean, or drifting through the sky on a cloud, or on the moon.  I could have been anyone.  Sometimes I opened my eyes and stared at the sky.  I watched the clouds moving past.  The world was turning beneath me, I thought.  I was watching time pass.  I felt relaxed, and yet uneasy at the same time.  I would have been okay if I could have stayed there forever, I suppose.  In that moment, left alone, and at peace.  It was the knowing that time would push me on and shove me over, that I would have to get to my feet and place one foot in front of the other, it was this knowledge that gave me a tight feeling in my chest.

I got up then, because it was depressing me.  I wanted to enjoy nice things, I wanted to soak up the beauty whenever I saw it, the music and the sky and the woods all around me, the solitude, all of it, but I couldn’t do it.  I got up because I would have to eventually anyway, so why put it off?  I mooched around the campfire, delaying leaving.  I sat on a log and poked at the remains of the fire.  My mixtape rolled onto my current favourite Nirvana song which was Lithium.   I turned it up loud and grinned to myself and sung along loudly because no one was there to hear me; I’m so happy, ‘cause today I found my friends, they’re in my head!  I’m so ugly, that’s okay ‘cause so are you!  We’ve broke our mirrors.  Sunday morning is every day for all I care…light my candles, in a daze ‘cause I found god!  It was supposed to make me feel better, listening to that, and singing loudly.  I tried to jolly a good feeling along for a while, but then I gave up and thought fuck it, it’s not happening.

I remembered Lucy and used my new knife to carve a heart into the log I was sat on.  I wondered if she hated me now.  I thought about apologizing to her for yelling in her face like that. I thought about going over to her place, but I knew I would not be welcome there now, and her dad would more than likely slam the door on me.  I recalled how I had shouted at her, at gentle, sweet Lucy and hot shame touched my cheeks.  I got out my last roll up and smoked it sat on the ground, with my back against the log.  What a prick, I thought dejectedly, and puffed the smoke viciously up into the air.  With each puff I watched the dancing curls of smoke twist and leap up into the atmosphere.  I tried to keep my eyes on them for as long as I could, and I thought how fragile they looked, rising higher and higher, dispersing until they had all disappeared.

I hung about for a few more minutes, using a stick to write my name in the dirt, while my stomach growled and groaned in hunger.  Finally, I stuck my hands in my pockets and started home, my head down, my shoulders slouched.  I realized that the trouble with good nights like that, the trouble with fun times, was that they couldn’t last forever, or even very long at all.  You were on a high, that you had to come down from at some point.  You tried to avoid it, or delay it, but it got you in the end.  You got dragged back down, and then you had to just kick along with everyone else until something good happened again.

I passed Michael’s house and almost considered going in to join him and Billy, but I suppose the curiosity got the better of me.  I walked quickly around the corner, pulled my headphones down and then sort of snuck up on my house, ready to take flight at any moment should I need to.  What I found was worrying and strange.  My mothers’ car had gone.  I couldn’t think where she would have gone at that time on a Sunday, as she never ever worked a Sunday.  His car was still there, and parked on the street, right outside our house was a solitary police car.  My guts crawled right up to my throat and I started backing off right away.  There was no fucking way I was going back in that house without my mother there, and the police?  What the fuck?

I found the knife in my back pocket and curled my hand around it briefly, as I scurried away towards Somerley road, not even thinking about where to go.  That was when I discovered the handful of change Michael had left in the back pocket of his jeans, and I decided to go and have a milkshake and decide what to do.  I paid for a chocolate shake and took a seat at the window to drink it.  My mind swam with so many things it was difficult to hold onto any one of them.  I was simultaneously planning the apology I would give to Lucy at some point, while I wondered if I had enough change back at home to pay Mike back for the milkshake, and tried to decide how long I ought to sit there.  How long was safe? The shake was just enough to shut my grumbling belly up, and I sucked it slowly, watching the traffic roll by on Somerley road.  I pictured Jake on his first morning at the café in town, and smiled a little to myself, wondering if they would make him wear an apron, or a hair net.

I could have sat there for longer, dragging it out, as the queasy feeling in my gut got worse and worse.  But they played shit song after shit song and it got to the point where it was making me angry.  I actually considered asking to speak to the manager about it.  Play a bit of everything, I wanted to tell them. Play the shit pop songs if you want, but then play some real music too, or I’m not coming in here anymore. I didn’t though.  I crushed my drink carton and tossed it in the bin on my way out.

I walked back home slowly, my feet like lead.  I wondered what I would find there.  Part of me longed to believe what Jake had suggested; that my mother would have seen a glimpse of Howard’s true colours and asked him to leave.  It was a nice thought, but I couldn’t believe in it.  I knew how much she relied on him, you see.  He was paying for everything, for one thing.  But maybe it was a start?  Maybe she would look at him differently from now on?  And maybe it was the beginning of Howard’s mask slipping?  It had to be hard, I reasoned, keeping up a pretence like that day in day out.  As I got closer to the house I saw that the police car had gone, and the drive was empty.  My shoulders sagged in utter relief.  I laughed at myself and went around the back.

I let myself in cautiously.  Peered around the door and strained my ears for something, anything.  I crept in, closed the door behind me.  Picked up an apple from the bowl on the side and sunk my teeth into it.  I felt strange, I have to tell you.  I felt a bit like I was on a film set, and people were watching me, and everything was fake and constructed and set up.  I walked down the hallway, and pushed open the lounge door.  Nothing.  No one.  So why did I feel like one of those characters in a horror film?  Creeping around in the dark, knowing, just knowing that something bad is going to happen somewhere, some time…

I put the TV on low, flicked to MTV and sat on the sofa.  Immediately I felt the tiredness wash over me.  Sleeping on the ground had left me washed out and sore.  I’d had unsettling dreams that I could barely remember now.  I yawned, finished my apple and let my head rest back.  I would just wait here for a bit, I thought.  Wait for my mum to show up or phone.  Wait until I knew what the fuck was going on.  I thought about Billy’s information from Steve, and closed my eyes for a moment.  It was interesting, I supposed.  A bargaining tool, or a weapon, of sorts…

I woke suddenly.  I jerked up, cold spiky fear seizing my heart and squeezing the life out of it.  I forgot how to breathe for a moment.  It felt like a small bird had become trapped in my chest and was battering me there with tiny panicked wings.  The front door had opened, and there were voices in the hallway.  Howard, and another man.  I pressed mute on the TV and climbed over the back of the sofa, lowering myself down to a crouched position on the floor behind it.  I heard the lounge door creak open and held my breath. “Just checking,” Howard grunted, and the man in the hallway laughed appreciatively.  He didn’t come in.  Instead I heard footsteps head into the kitchen. “Time for a cuppa’?”

I was on my hands and knees, my fingers digging into the fibres of the carpet, my throat frozen shut in terror. “Nah better get on in a minute,” the other man replied.  He had a very low, gravelly voice, and it did not belong to anyone I knew.  When he spoke it sounded like his voice was strangled in phlegm, and he had a smokers cough.

“That was another siren,” Howard commented, and he was right.  I could hear a siren outside, wailing closer and closer.  The men laughed together in the kitchen.  I sat back on my ankles and tried to calm my breathing down.  “Let’s go upstairs,” Howard said then, sounding like the idea excited him. “We’ll be able to see it all from the back window.”

Chuckling and snorting like school kids, the two men shuffled back down the hallway and I listened to their heavy tread on the stairs.  “It’s all fucking kicking off,” Howard was saying, and I felt cold, cold all over.  Shit, I was thinking, shit, shit, shit. Fucking shit, what the hell was going on?  I heard another siren and wanted to press my hands over my ears.  I heard them coming back down again, and realized my mistake.  I should have ducked out of the house while they were up there.  “Better get you the keys then,” Howard was saying.  There was a jangle in the hallway as he took some keys down from the hook next to the door. “There you are mate.”

“Right-o.  Nice one.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a lot to move?”

“Nah, not a lot no.  Just the stuff my old mum left me.  This couldn’t have come at a better time for me Lee.  Her place is on the market now.”

“Won’t take long to sell. People always looking for bolt holes in London. What’ll you do with the money?”

“Was thinking I might invest in a really good nightclub.”

Brash, abrasive laughter followed.  Laughter which set the strange man off coughing again.  I decided to move.  I crawled from the sofa to behind the lounge door.  I was going to make my move the next chance I got, and I knew I would have to be fast.  I heard cigarettes being lit, and could smell the smoke filling the hallway. “Come down later,” Howard said. “Just a lick of paint here and then, and we’re all done.  You’re gonna’ fucking love it.”

“Can’t wait.  Looking forward to it mate.”

Howard responded with a hearty chortle. “Knew you’d be up for it.”

“You know me too well Lee.” The man coughed again, and it sounded like if he went on much longer he would chuck up a lung.  He settled himself and cleared his throat. “I take it you got links around here?”

“Came with the club.  Might need yours as well though.”

Behind the door, my head was racing.  Links?  What links?  What the hell did that mean?  I covered my mouth with one hand.   I was shaking a stupid amount.  From my head down to my toes.  I wondered if I would be able to run properly in that state.

“Not a problem,” the other guy replied, and I heard the front door open up. “Better get off then.  Been a long day already.”

Howard laughed out loud and the sound of it grated in my head, making me wince behind my hand.  “I appreciate it,” he said. “Things were getting out of hand.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.  But anyway, I owe you enough favours my friend, so don’t mention it.”

“Good man.  See you later.”

The front door closed and I used the wall to pull myself back to my feet.  I heard Howard in the kitchen.  I pressed myself against the wall and realized that I was trapped.

36

 

            I waited for him after school.  I parked the car around the corner so he would not know I was in.  I sat patiently at the kitchen table and drank my tea.  The clock on the wall told me I had ten minutes until he rolled through the back door.  I smiled to myself.  I thought about what I had to say to him.  I thought about grabbing his face and squeezing it until his eyes popped out.  Then I told myself to calm down, to rein it in and take it slow.  So I nodded, and sipped my tea and took deep, slow breaths, in and out, in and out.  It wasn’t exactly that I had a bad temper.  I wasn’t one of those people that went beserk and lost the plot.  I wasn’t like that, because I felt positive most of the time.  I dreamed big, and I stood tall.  That was fine.  That was good.  I didn’t like things going wrong.  I didn’t like disorder and chaos, or things that fell out of line.

Time ticked by.  He was late.  I finished my tea and stretched out my legs beneath the table.  I picked up the pack of Benson and Hedges and pulled out a cigarette.  I didn’t have long.  If he didn’t come home soon, there would not be much time before Kay got back in, and I needed to be down the club early as well.  Damn it, I thought.

I lit the cigarette, chucked the lighter onto the table and glowered around at the small room.  It wasn’t enough for me, that much was certain.  Poky little council house.  Paying someone else’s mortgage.  When things had moved forward a bit more, we would buy them out, or better still, buy a bigger place.  There was not much you could do with a little council house.  I had already repainted all of the rooms and bought odd bits of furniture to smarten the place up, but a terraced council house was what it was, and served the function it was supposed to serve.  It housed poor people.  The humble, and the meek.  The lazy and the ignorant.  I only had to look around me.  Look at the neighbours!  Fat greasy alcoholic bitch next door, never once drew back her curtains, and let her scuzzy cats crap in our garden every fucking day.  Next door to her, single mum and three screaming brats.  Awful.  She was rake thin and chain smoked while the brats ran riot in the close.  She wore tight jeans and cropped tops, and her stringy hair was always scraped up high on top of her pointy head.  Horrible.  Next door to her, the old couple with the manky German Shepherd.  All you could hear was coughing when you walked past their place.  All you could smell was gravy.

That was the trouble with estates I thought, grimacing to myself.  They were hopeless places.  Full of kids on bikes, roaming dogs, and washing lines full of pants.  Men in green overalls tinkering with cars and smoking roll ups.  The stench of roast dinners wafting across the back gardens on a Sunday.  People who thought they were going places because they had moved up from a flat, to a two up two down house.  People with no ambition, the work shy and the pathetic.  You saw them everywhere.  It made me sick.  Kay and I, we were better than all this, I thought.  I could see us on the other side, over on Cedar View Hill, one of those roads.  Sea views and driveways like streets.

I finished my cigarette and glanced at the clock on the wall.  I shook my head, got up and put the kettle back on.  I shoved my hands into my pockets, and felt them pulsing there with energy.  I pulled one back out and scratched my neck and thought about strangling his.  I made my tea and sat back down.  I strained my ears for the sound of footsteps on the drive.  He wouldn’t ride the bike of course.  Ungrateful arrogant little shit stain.  I had time to consider what was happening.

I thought about Pippy then.  Ha, Pippy.  I smiled to myself and rocked the chair back on its legs.  I’d felt bad about Pippy, but then, I was just a little kid really.  You feel a lot of doubt and guilt when you are just a kid.  I didn’t feel guilt about my brother Dennis, obviously.  No way.  But Pippy, well, he was my mums you see.  She was a stern woman, my mother, still was.  They used to say that she didn’t suffer fools gladly.  As a child, I had no idea what that meant, but I gathered it had something to do with the haughty look that remained on her face at all times, and the way she glared at people she did not approve of, like the postman who whistled too loud, and the lady next door who showed off too much cleavage.  My mother had a way of looking people up and down and sniffing when they spoke to her.  They didn’t always notice.  Some people are fucking thick skinned you know.  I used to notice though, when I was playing on the floor behind her.  No one was really good enough, no one was as good as us, and it was something she would often remark on.

She was a stern woman, yes.  Stern and firm, and didn’t believe in frivolity or nonsense of any kind.  The only thing she softened at slightly, was Pippy, her dog.  She got him before I was born, so he was pretty old and arthritic by the time I was old enough to really consider him.  He was a Pekingese dog, with this flat little face and these black, bulging eyes.  Pippy loved my mother and curled up on her lap whenever she sat down in the evening to do her knitting.  She used to say he was a good judge of character.  Well maybe he was, or maybe he wasn’t, but in his old age, Pippy got to be a bit of a grumpy bastard.  That was how I saw him anyway.  Grumpy, snappy little bastard.

I was afraid of him for a while.  He would snap at you if you tried to pet him.  In his old age he took to crapping in the hallway whenever he felt like it.  One day I was pushing toy cars up and down the hall and he strutted along on his short little legs and squatted over one of my cars.   I remember my mouth falling open as I watched the steaming brown shit curl slowly out of his arsehole and onto my car.  I remember what I wanted to do.  I wanted to take that car and ram it right up his fucking arsehole because that would teach him a lesson.  Instead, outrage and offended, I jumped to my feet, rushed up to him and cuffed him over the head.  He snarled at me, his horrible little black lips rising up over his rotting little teeth.  I remember thinking, how dare you?  You take a shit on my car and you snap at me?  I remember gasping at him, in pure disbelief and horror.  He should have been ashamed!  He should have scuttled off with his thick plumy tail stuffed right between his legs.  But no, not Pippy.  Pippy thought he had every right in the world to shit on my toys.  And now he was growling at me and would probably bite me if he got the chance.  So I kicked him.  I kicked him hard, and I suppose I had gotten pretty big for my age by then, as the kick sent him flying right into the door.  I know I felt scared then.  He sort of crumpled.  He was dazed.  I looked around but we were all alone.  He wasn’t snapping at me now.  So I walked up and smacked him over the head again.  I smacked his little rounded head so hard that my hand smarted in bed that night.   I smacked him again and again to teach him a lesson.

Pippy was never the same after that.  My mother used to say he had gone down hill.  He would walk in circles instead of in straight lines.  He forgot how to climb the stairs.  He took to crapping inside constantly until my father could bear it no longer.  He carried him off to be put to sleep when my mother was at her friends house one day.  I remember her words when she returned, when my father told her what he had done with Pippy.  “Well that’s the end of that then,” she had said.  And it was.

I was going to think about Dennis for a while, but I made the mistake of looking at the clock again.  I shook my head in anger.  Fucking damn it.  He still wasn’t back and Kay would be home any moment.  I picked up my second cup of tea and hurled it at the wall.

37

 

 

            Well it all went to shit didn’t it?  Of course.  Like everything always fucking does.  I sometimes think it works that way, you know.  Some people sail through life, they glide through it, they bump around a bit, but it’s never too stormy, never too bad.  And some people, it’s like the tide is turning against them the whole fucking time you know?  That was how I felt anyway.  That was exactly how I felt when Mrs. Baker told me I was not allowed to join the school paper.  I felt a rush of things; a rush of disbelief, of hurt, of wanting to cry, of wanting to scream and stamp my foot, and then this one solid feeling settled over me, and I closed my mouth and just glared at her.  I felt defeated.  She was mortified, or course.  You could see it in her eyes, because she could barely look at me, and her cheeks were red, and she kept wringing her hands just like my mother did when Howard was not around.  She looked a bit like she might cry at one point.  “It’s not forever,” she kept insisting as I glowered in front of her. “No one is saying you can never join the paper Danny.  It’s just it appears there’s been some trouble, with the police?  And the thing is, the board of parent governors feel strongly that students in years ten and eleven really ought to be setting a good example to the younger members of the school.” I just stared at her.  Waited for more.  Waited for her to turn the knife she had just shoved into my back.  “It’s just, it’s just,” she said, floundering now.  “They can’t be seen to endorse that kind of thing.  Like I said Danny, no one is saying you can never join, there will be other opportunities and please don’t stop writing and sharing your work with me!”

I shook my head at her.  My body felt small and hard with knots of rage.  I lifted my lip in a snarl and turned for the door. “Fuck it,” I told her.  “Shove it up your arse!”

It was Friday.  There was double maths to endure before the final bell rung.  Not for me though.  I was going home.  With my folder, with my potential clutched under one arm, I stormed from the library, along the corridor, with the double doors at the end in sight.  I heard a voice call out to me in concern, but I did not react until I felt her hand claw at my arm.  It was Lucy.  She was waiting outside her classroom with Zoe, who was chewing gum and looking bored.  I couldn’t help it, but I felt my anger deepen at the sight of her.  She looked so fresh faced, so pretty and wholesome and new and clean, and everything I was obviously not, and then I remembered that her dad was on the parents governors board and so was Eddie Higgs. “What’s wrong?” she was asking me, her brow creased in concern, her hand soft around my arm.  I pulled free and she immediately shrunk back into the wall.

“Tell your dad thanks a lot!” I growled at her.

“What?  Why?”

“Because he’s on that governors board of shitty little arseholes with Higgs dad, isn’t he?  And they don’t want the likes of me on their school paper, that’s why!”

She could only stare back at me, hurt and not understanding.  Zoe looked unimpressed and stepped to her side, slipping her arm through Lucys in a protective gesture.  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head at me.

“Ask your dad Lucy,” I told her, looking away and stamping my foot in impatience with everything.  “Oh fuck it.”  I looked back at them and shrugged. “What’s the fucking point anyway?  Just forget it.”  I turned and stormed away.  I kept going.  Through the doors, across the playground and out of the gate, leaving them all behind.  No one saw me.  No one stopped me.  Who would know?  Who would care?

I stuffed my folder into my bag in a careless, hurried anger, and kicked along, hands in pockets, eyes down.  I told myself I didn’t really want to be on the stupid paper.  It was probably just run by stuck up snobs and pricks like Higgs anyway.  I crossed Somerley road and headed to McDonalds for a milkshake.  I paid for a chocolate shake and started to walk home. “Your stuff is really good,” Mrs. Baker had called after me.  Like what the fuck did that matter if they didn’t want to know?  I sucked on the straw and realized that was what it all came down to.  They thought I would be a bad influence on the other kids.  Fantastic.  As I headed home, I tried desperately to shake it all off, the unfairness of it all, the awful undeniable truth that they just didn’t want me there.  I remembered Lucy then, and my stomach sank, and my heart ached, as I saw the hurt on her face when I had laid into her. It made a sick feeling spread throughout my body.  I would have to apologize to her when I got the chance.  It was not her fault her dad hated me.

It looked like I had the house to myself, so I grabbed a packet of crisps and a kit-kat and took them up to my room.  I pressed play on the stereo and nodded to myself when the music kicked in.  Don had taped me a load of Bob Dylan and I was slowly but surely falling in love.  I scribbled down the lyrics whenever I could.  I couldn’t resist.  When you sit and hear words that lovely, words put together in the most beautiful and meaningful way, with melodies and guitars that set your heart beating, you just want to hold onto them somehow.  I saw lyrics like moments, gone too fast, fleeting.  I tried to hold onto them by writing them down.  O where have you been my blue eyed son?  And where have you been my darling young one?  I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains, I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways, I’ve stepped in the seven sad forests, I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans… I was shaking my head, just stood at my desk, wondering why he wrote about twelve mountains, and six highways, why were the numbers important?  Why was the forest sad, and the oceans dead?

I was thinking about all this, to take my mind off the school newspaper, and Lucy, and I had turned it up loud, so I didn’t hear his car slide into the driveway and I didn’t hear his heavy footsteps as they tore up the stairs towards me.  All I became aware of was the sudden emergence of him, the monster, bursting into my room, slamming the door back into the wall, his red face bursting with violent desire, his small eyes gleaming with it.  He was in my room and stealing up all of the air.  “Hello Danny!” he cried out at me, sounding nothing less than delighted with himself.  He grabbed me by my hair, twisted it around his fist and slammed me back into the wall next to the door.  “What’re the chances eh?” he sneered into my face.  “I was driving down the road and spotted you!  Coming out of McDonalds!  Fancy that eh?  Got let out of school early did you?  Or are you just a skiving little shitbag?”

I swiped at his hand, I dug my nails into his skin and raked them up to his wrist. “Get off me! I’ll kill you!”

“Oh yeah, about that!” He pulled me from the wall by my hair and pushed me face down onto the bed, pressing a chunk of knee right into the base of my spine.  With one hand still tightly entwined in my hair, I felt the other searching the pockets of my school trousers.  “So where is it then?  Where is it?  Must be here somewhere, oh yeah look!  Here we are!” He tugged the small switchknife from my back pocket and released the blade.  “You shouldn’t be carrying this about with you, you little idiot,” he told me gleefully. “You’d get in real trouble with the police if they caught you going about with this!”  He brought the blade down right in front of my face.  “Gonna’ kill me, are you?” he asked me then, and his voice was soft and dangerous and husky with malice.  He pressed the cold edge of the blade against my cheek. “Gonna’ kill me are you Danny?  Gonna’ fucking kill me?” I had stopped struggling and I lay still, my eyes fixed on the tip of the knife that rested millimetres from my pupil.  I blinked and breathed and waited.  “I don’t think you are, do you?” he asked me, still in that rasping, excited voice. He pressed the blade harder into my skin.  “Are you?”

“No,” I said. “No.”

“More like I’ll be the one killing you eh?” he taunted, sliding the knife back towards my neck.  “That’s what I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, you know.  How I’d do it.  How I’d chop you up, and bag you up and just dump you somewhere, and no one would ever know.  I’d get away with it you see, because you’re such an irritating little shit stain who would give a shit if you just took off eh?  If you just vanished. Easily done Danny, I’m fucking telling you mate.  It would be easily  done.”  His hand tightened in my hair.  He was holding it so tight it felt like it was about to be ripped from my skull. I closed my eyes and waited.  I bit down on my tongue, my lips, everything, determined not to cry out, not to give him the satisfaction of a sound.  “But I’m not an unreasonable man,” he said, pushing his lips down right into my reddening ear.  His voice came out sluggish and thick and his breath smelled like Juicy Fruit chewing gum.  “I want to give you a chance, you see.  I want to talk to you again about how to be a good boy, like I told you, remember?  So you’re gonna’ listen to me alright? We’ve got some time together now, see. You’re gonna’ listen to me, and stop fucking around, and opening your mouth when no one wants to hear it, right?  You’re gonna’ be a good boy instead, yeah?” I had no option but to nod my head in reply. “Good,” he said.

Howard removed the blade from my neck and stuffed it into his own back pocket.  He let go off my hair, pulled me over onto my back and delivered a hard cold slap to my face.  It was so hard I felt my teeth rattling in my gums.  For a moment I thought I was going.  My vision blurred and everything went grey.  I blinked furiously, and felt the urge to just roll my eyes back into my head, to just let myself go.  “That’s better,” he was saying to me.  “That’s what we want.  Now you look at me, you look at me you little son of a bitch.”  I kept blinking, and lifted my hands to rub at my face, but he didn’t like that, so he pinned my wrists to the bed, and as my vision sorted itself out, I was face to face with him.  He was too close.  I didn’t want to look.  I turned my face away.  I didn’t want to believe in him.  “That was unbelievable the other week,” he was saying to me, his leering smirking mouth just centimetres from my cheek. “All that throwing a tantrum about the bike, threatening to kill me!  Your little loser friends threatening me too.  You want to tell them they don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with.  That’s what you want to tell them Danny.  I let you have your fun, but playtime is over now mate.  Now I’m being deadly fucking serious with you.”

I let myself glance at him.  I saw his thin lips stretched back from his teeth, and the teeth gleaming down at me, coated with saliva.  I saw the pale piggy eyes drilling into me, and I saw what was behind them, something dark and murderous, something that longed to destroy me.  “You’re gonna’ say sorry to me now,” he told me. “Before we sit up and have our little chat.  You’re going to say sorry to me, you’re going to say you’ve finally learnt your lesson, and you’re sorry for all the shit you’ve put me through lately.  And then we’re gonna’ start over again, and this time you’re gonna’ follow the fucking rules!  Now come on, let me hear it.  Let me hear how sorry you are.”

I looked away from the vile face that hovered above mine.  I felt something hardening inside me.  Something that rose up and chased away the fear.  I saw my legs dangling off the bed between his.  I saw my only chance to fuck him over and I took it.  I lifted one leg, pulled it back and rammed my foot right into his balls as hard as I fucking could.  Howard let go of me then, and I scrambled up and away from the bed.  His hands went to his balls.  His face was white and silent and screaming.  His eyes bulged and ropey drool slipped from his lower lip.  I didn’t look at him any longer.  I ran.

I ran and ran in crazed and hysterical style, all the way to the park.  I didn’t stop running.  I ploughed through the undergrowth and the bushes until I made it to the base.  I knew the others would meet there after school because it was Friday.  I fell through the door, landed on my arse, giggling and shaking, and kicked out with one foot to close the door.  My skin still crawled with fear, and my face stung and my head throbbed with it all, but I fixed my mind on Howard’s mask of pain, and I laughed and laughed.  I dropped my head into my hands and clung to my hair.  “Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” I panted and laughed.  I closed my eyes and sat like that for ages.  My body felt wired.  All the strings pulled tight.  Then I remembered the group bottle of whiskey we kept stashed in one of the cupboards.  There was a good half left, so I unscrewed the cap and started swigging it to calm myself down.  I felt dizzy and sick from all the running and from all the fear.

The boys arrived promptly back from school and were surprised and pleased to find me there.  Jake held out his hand for the whiskey so I passed it to him. “Heard you walked out of school?” he asked. “You’re gonna’ be in so much shit!”

“Couldn’t stand it another fucking minute!” I cried up at him, grinning wildly.  I guess I was on fire with adrenaline or something, because I felt delirious with it, high as a kite on a few swigs of neat whiskey.  Michael was giving me that strange look again, the tight, nervous one.

“Are you okay?” he asked me. “Your face is all red.”

“Nothing,” I shrugged at him, glancing at the other two who were rooting through their schoolbags at the table.  I rolled my eyes at Michael letting him know now was not the time. “Shut up,” I told him with a smile.  He narrowed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped.

“Why’d you walk out then?” Billy wanted to know.

“Stupid paper,” I told him with a sigh, remembering. “They won’t let me on it, so I thought fuck the lot of you then, and went home.”

“Who won’t let you on it?” asked Michael.

“Parent governors, whoever they are.  I’m bad news!”

“That’s not fair,” frowned Jake, passing the whiskey to Billy.

“Yeah, their loss,” he agreed. “Your stuff would make that shitty rag worth reading. Hey, you should start your own underground paper or something!  Give them a run for their money!”  He passed a handful of tapes to me.

“What are these?”

“From my dad,” Billy said with a sigh. “Been trying to give them to you all day.”

Still sat on the floor where I had landed, I looked the tapes over one by one.  Two Bob Dylan albums, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde, Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys, Disraeli Gears by a band called Cream, and two more mix tapes, which blew my mind to be honest. Taping albums for me was one thing.  But him actually sitting there, probably for hours, putting on records, pausing and recording the tape, writing them all down, thinking about what to put on, it just amazed me that he would do that.

“Loads of old stuff,” yawned Billy. “He’s pushing it on you ‘cause all I care about is Nirvana.  Just chuck it in the bin if you don’t like it.”

“You’re joking,” I said, shaking my head, as I stared in a daze at the tapes in my hands.  “This is amazing Bill. How can I ever thank him?”

Billy laughed at me. “Just listen to them then,” he said, as if this should be obvious. “That’s all he wants.”

I blinked hard and nodded.  A wetness had invaded my eyes.  I just felt so amazed, so touched.  I blinked again and got to my feet. “Thanks Billy, I mean, tell him thanks.  I really mean it. Make sure you tell him.”

Michael had taken a seat at the battered table and had opened up his little tin. “Got something else here to cheer you up Danny-boy,” he said.  I went to have a look.  His tin was full of the usual things; card for roaching, tobacco and cigarette papers.  But he also had a little dark green bud in there. “Popped home,” he looked at me and winked. “Anthony was feeling generous! So it’s Friday, and we’ve got booze and weed, and Jake’s got the munchies, right Jakey-boy?”

Jake dragged his bag up from the floor. “Oh yeah,” he said, and tipped it out onto the table.  We all laughed.  Three bags of fizzy sweets, a huge pack of Doritos, a large bar of Dairy Milk chocolate and a packet of marshmallows. “Borrowed from my mum,” he explained with a shrug.

We spread out and relaxed after that.  The rusty old caravan was our second home, our secret place.  We laughed, and we smoked, and we drank  and we giggled at nothing until our cheeks hurt and our bellies ached.  When it got dark we went outside and collapsed on the grass.  We all lay on our backs, sharing a final cigarette and staring up at the sky as the stars blinked to life amidst the blackness.  “I lost my knife,” I said to Michael as I passed the smoke his way.  He took it carefully between his fingers, inhaled, and then exhaled very slowly, both of us watching the grey smoke as it curled and twisted up in front of our eyes.

“I’ll get you another one,” he told me, and I nodded, understanding right away.

“Anthony?”

“Of course.  Anthony.”

35

 

 

September 1993

I never thought the day would come when I would look forward to getting back to school, but that September, I found myself staring down the days ahead with a sense of urgency to return there.  There was a mundane and solid kind of normality about school, a sturdiness within its walls that made me feel safe, as I walked through the doors, with my headphones on.  I breathed out, this massive sigh of relief, I guess.  At school there would be no need for tiptoeing around, no need for craning my head around doors before I entered rooms, no need to exist in a state of constant anxiety and fear.  I felt it drop from my shoulders as I walked through the entrance, and I hadn’t in truth realized until then, how much it had been hanging over me. I was an addict to my headphones by then.  My Walkman went everywhere with me.  Wherever I went, my music came too.  In my room, the stereo remained on, and when the lights went out I pulled on my headphones and let the voices and the lyrics sing me to sleep.  I walked into school, feeling haunted and hunted.  I’ll start this off without any words, Kurt was booming into my ears, I got so high I scratched til I bled, love myself! Better than you! I know it’s wrong, but what should I dooooooo…I’m on a plain… I kept walking, hearing nothing but the music, staring around at the place as if seeing it for the first time, feeling odd and disjointed, like I was not the same boy anymore.

I had been existing in an unforgiving state of paralysis.  I was waiting, waiting for repercussions, waiting for payback.  Some nights I would wake up in a sweaty tangle of sheets, convinced that a shadow hung over my bed, wielding a knife or a hammer.  Who would notice?  Who would care?  I would have to get up, check the lock on the door.  I could feel him waiting, you see.  I could see it in his face, in his eyes when they rolled in his face like glass stones, watching me, always watching me.  I could hear it in his voice, when it dripped with promise and menace, when it lowered to nothing more than a hush, when he promised me pain, promised me lessons.  My mother was tearful and anxious all of the time.  She was convinced I was some kind of pot head.  She looked at me as if she pitied and feared me, as if she wanted to hold me under the shower and wash me clean.  I did not speak to her, not ever.  I could barely even stand to look at her.  Howard was working longer hours, and his absence made her wring her hands and tug at her hair.  When he was home he hissed his rage through his teeth at me, and I knew that he was just waiting, that he was just refuelling his weapons.  I wondered if I ought to be doing the same.  I had Michael, and Anthony, and when I remembered this I could breathe again. But they were not there with me at night, when I saw the shadow that lingered outside my door.

I wandered into school with my folder of writing tucked nervously under my arm.  We had a special assembly that morning, just for years ten and eleven.  Mr. James took centre stage in his usual sombre manner, his hands linked at the small of his back, his chest thrust forward as he walked from one side to the other with his eyes on us all.  I sat with my legs crossed, my folder on my lap, and my eyes and ears transfixed on the big man as he stalked back and forth.  He gave the feeling that he was about to reprimand us all, wipe the floor with us even.  There was anger in those eyes, and in that walk and it fascinated me.  “I want to talk to you about potential today,” his deep voice boomed out upon us.  “What it is, what it means, who has it.  For half of you sat here, today marks the beginning of your GCSE courses.  Today marks your chance to wipe the slate clean, to start again, to show us what you can do, to try your very hardest even when things don’t come easily, to take seriously what you did not before, to decide on your goals and your aims, and how to reach them.  And for the other half of you sat here, today marks the start of your last year in this school.  Your final chance to buckle down, to do what you need to do to get the results you need, to secure the college places, the apprenticeships and the jobs I know you are hoping for.  I hope the importance of this day is not lost on any of you.  I stand here today and I look at all of you.” He stopped pacing then, stood in the centre of the stage and glared out at us. “And I can see your potential. I can see it.  You may not be able to see it at times, you may not always believe in it, but it is real ladies and gentlemen, it is real and it exists in every single one of you.  Potential.  That’s what you have.  All of you.  Every single one of you sat right there now, you have the potential to do great things, to make your dreams come true, to do anything that you want to do.”  He started stalking again then, and it felt to me like he was getting angrier.  I squirmed just a little on my arse on the hard hall floor.  I couldn’t help but feel like he was talking just to me.  That he knew about the other little trip to the police station, that he knew about drunken parties and trying pot.  I swallowed guilt.  “I want you all to think about this, to try to recognize your own potential today,” he went on.  “You have no idea how it angers and saddens me to see potential wasted.  When I come across people who had all the chances, all the possibilities, all the potential to succeed, but who for whatever reason, threw it all away, let it slide, didn’t bother, didn’t try.  This is your time people.  Make no mistake, do not forget that this is a vital time in your lives.  This is your time to work hard, to reach those goals, make those dreams come true.  You have to put the effort in now, you have to work hard, stay focused.  You have to believe me when I tell you that every single one of you sat here in front of me today is capable of great things.  Of amazing things.”

I swear to god his eyes landed on me when he had finished his speech.  I swear to god he looked right into my soul and told me to buck the fuck up.  I swear to god he fixed his eyes on my knotted hair and my grimy nails and my roll ups in my pocket.  I tightened my grip on my folder, on my potential, and when first break rolled around, I marched it right on over to Mrs. Bakers office.  The school newspaper had their after school meetings in the IT suite that led off from the library.  I found Mrs. Baker there, drinking coffee and ploughing through paperwork.  I felt out of place and stupid as I sidled on in, glancing around at the wall to wall computers and printers.  She beamed at me when she saw me though. “Ooh hello there Danny, are you here to take me up on the offer to join the paper after school?”

“Well yeah,” I said unsurely, shuffling in a little further. “I just brought some stuff I’ve been writing over the summer.  Nothing much.”

She immediately reached out to me, reminding me then of a small child reaching out to grab sweets from someone.  She looked so delighted, so excited, that I felt a bit embarrassed, and had the slight urge to hug my folder to my chest and hang onto it.  I didn’t though, I passed it to her and stuffed my hands into my pockets.  She held the folder out in front of her, and I felt like I had just handed over a piece of my soul.  “How exciting!  Well Danny, if your essay writing is anything to go by, these should be excellent! Well done, and thank you so much!”  She was a very excitable kind of person, I suppose.  I shrugged and headed back for the door, but she called out to me then. “Would you be able to come back and see me tomorrow Danny? There’ll be a few more things we need to discuss.”

“Like what?”

She shook back her grey curls to smile at me reassuringly.  “Oh not much really, it’s just the board of parent governors are very involved in the newspaper so..”

“Why?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why are they involved in it?”  Already my back was going up, you see.  Already my defences were kicking in.

“Oh well,” she made a face and stroked her chin and glanced up at the ceiling as if hoping to find the answer up there.  “Well they always have been,” she said eventually, grinning inanely and shaking her grey perm again.  “They’ve always been right behind us.  Very supportive I have to say.  With funding as well!  But it’s not a problem!” she cried then, biting her lip and giving me this patronising and sympathetic look.  “They’ll be so pleased to have some fresh talent on board!”

After school Billy roped me into coming back to his house.  I didn’t really need much roping to be honest.  Jake had declined the offer, complaining that his father had arranged yet another job interview for him, so off he went.  Michael was in detention for being disruptive in class.  I could have kissed Billy when he’d asked me to come back to his.  It wasn’t just the relief of deferring my return home, it was the warmth that spread through me when I thought about walking through his front door.  It was only a little terraced house, exactly like ours, but why did stepping into it feel like I was stepping into another world?  My nostrils twitched, as soon as the front door opened and the wind chimes jingled up above it.  Burning incense, and spicy food on the stove.  Scents and sounds that intrinsically linked me to Billy’s house, to Billy’s life; one I was painfully jealous of.

You walked in and June was there, there to greet you, always with mess on her like paint, or yoghurt, mucky handprints or splashes of dinner.  She didn’t give a shit.  She didn’t do her hair, or her nails or her makeup like my mum did.  She was just how she was.  Willowy and gentle and bathed in calm.  The kitchen was small, just like ours, but somehow it seemed bigger with the amount they had crammed in.  An old pine dresser she had repainted pale blue, stuffed with mismatched and brightly coloured crockery.  Spider plants bloomed across the windowsill, side by side with cacti and herb pots.  The walls of the kitchen were covered in old band posters and the spiky spidery artwork of children.  Billy rushed by it all, because it was always the same for him, so he thundered on up to his room to put some noisy guitars on, but I lingered, I paused, I went slow.  She had this little radio on the kitchen windowsill and she kept it tuned into this classic station, classic fm or classic rock and roll or something.  Sometimes she would just be stood there, wooden spoon in hand, staring out of the window whilst lost in song. On that day I was pulled in too, taken gently by the elbow by some pure little melody that led me to the kitchen doorway and made a pain swell in my heart, made a clutch for my soul.  She sensed me there right away and turned and smiled and laughed at herself, as she twirled a length of pale blonde hair around one slender finger.  “Oh!” she laughed. “Hope you didn’t hear me singing!”  I shook my head to let her know that I hadn’t.  I didn’t know what else to say, because there wasn’t anything, I just wanted to listen to the song.  “Do you like this too?” she asked me then, turning to face me.  She tapped the wooden spoon against her palm.  I shrugged, and smiled.  “Billy hates it,” she said, grinning widely.  I nodded.  I wanted her to be quiet so I could hear it properly.  It was just the chorus that kept getting me, it was so sad, so desperate, at the same time full of a kind of gutting hope; ah well I may as well try to catch the wind.  It was like the singer knew what he wanted was impossible, and that hurt him, but yet he knew he would try to catch it anyway, and he would do it smiling.  “It’s by Donavan,” she said, when it had finished too soon.  “It’s very old.  But somehow, whenever I hear it, it’s like time has stood still and I am transported back, and I’m a teenager again! Funny eh?” she grinned at me. “How music can make you feel?”

Like an idiot, I just nodded and smiled, because I had no words for her.  There was nothing I could do or say to explain to her how the song had made me feel, just hearing it for the first time.  How it had lured me towards her intensely private moment, how it had made me feel sad and happy at the same time, and how crazy that was.  I went up to Billy after that, tried to join in the conversation, while he blasted Nevermind at our eardrums at high volume.  It made him all aggressive, you could see that.  He was a short little kid who felt big and tall and snarly when he jumped around in his bedroom to screaming guitars and snarling lyrics.  But that was the day I discovered Bob Dylan too, and things got exciting after that.  Because there was always something new, always something unexpected and beautiful, something to lift your soul above the shit, something to smile about.

I’d just gone down to get us drinks, and Billy’s dad was sat in the lounge, in his special arm chair, with his eyes closed.  Until he told me, I had no idea who the singer was, I only knew that the songs were gentle and yet fast, and the lyrics intelligent and beautiful, the kind of lyrics that made me want to rewind the song to hear them again, to understand them.  Not wanting to disturb Donald, I climbed into the other armchair. His was positioned in the corner of the room, in his music corner, right next to his record player.  The player was surrounded by piles and piles of records and cassettes.  He had shelves on the walls above, where he kept all of his seven inches, and gathered along either side of the player were all of his twelve inches.  He had so many that they were stacked on the floor as well, propped up against the wall and running along the bottom of the cabinet.  I knew for a fact they were all in alphabetical order, and that he could find whatever record he wanted just like that.  With his head back, and his eyes closed, he would have appeared asleep, if it had not been for the glass of rum and coke in one hand, and the fingers of his other hand which drummed against the arm rest of the chair in time to the music.  He smiled and mouthed along to the words of the songs.

Billy had appeared, outraged and indignant, grimacing around the door at us. “What are you doing listening to this lame old hippy music?” he had demanded scathingly, as his father opened his eyes and laughed. “Not enough guitars or drums!  Come on!”

“I like it,” I shrugged at him simply.  I got out of the chair and Donald nodded at me in thankful approval.

“You have fine taste young man,” he said. “And despite my sons best efforts you refuse to be narrow minded about music.  You want to try some Johnny Cash yet?”

“Noooooo!” Billy yelled in frustration, running across the room to grab my arm. “No bloody country music dad! Just stop it!”

Donald rose from his chair then, this ear splitting grin across his freckled face. He started rifling through the records nearest to him. “What about some Velvet Underground or Cream? The Kinks!”  He was laughing as his son groaned.

“Dad!”

“The Rolling Stones then? The Sex Pistols? Come on son, where do you think the music you love came from?”

Billy let me go and I was at the records in a shot, while he shook his head at the pair of us.  “For gods sake,” he murmured, knowing it was too late.