When he went inside, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was obvious people lived there. There was no sign of the young boy and so the police officer crept quietly around and shone his torch into each room. There were signs of drug abuse; needles and empty foils of heroin were lying around.
The young boy came out of one of the other rooms. When he saw the officer, he started to make a run for it. The officer tried restraining the boy and offering reassurances that he meant him no harm.
Antonias was like a wild animal, punching and shouting, even reverting to Italian to confuse the police officer. The officer radioed the station for backup. It was obvious to him that this young boy lived here, but who was looking after him?
A patrol car came and took Antonias away. The police officers hadn’t got any sense out of him, all he had done was speak in Italian and shrug his shoulders.
Antonias was angry and afraid. His mother would be worried about him when she came back and found he wasn’t there. He needed to find his mother.
He thought if he played dumb and didn’t speak English, he would be safe; they would let him go, like all the others had, because he was too much trouble. But they didn’t.
The police had telephoned social services, and also asked for an interpreter. While they waited for them, they gave Antonias a hot meal and watched him wolf it down, using his hands.
Antonias spent what seemed like hours in a police cell, because there wasn’t anywhere else to put him, then, finally, social services and the interpreter arrived.
It wasn’t an interrogation, as such – they were just talking to him. They were doing their best not to insult him by holding their noses, because the stench of body odour, alcohol and urine coming from him was foul. They could see he was riddled with head lice and scabies.
The interpreter managed to get through to him, although each time Antonias saw the door open, he tried making a run for it.
‘What’s your name?’ the interpreter asked, in Italian, then smiled at him.
‘Antony, Antony Perry,’ he replied. Antonias had no choice, but he wouldn’t betray his mother; that was all they were getting. His mum would come and get him soon, he was sure of it.
The report was written by the social worker about ‘Antony Perry’, and where they had found him. It was slim pickings, because he wouldn’t give any more information.
Even when a police search had been conducted for missing persons, his name didn’t come up. No one was looking for this child, no one had reported him missing, yet they all knew he had to have come from somewhere.
The police ransacked the squat, to try to find more information about who else lived there, but all they found among the debris were old unwashed clothes and half-eaten food. They had the squat secured, this time with metal shutters at the doors and windows. A police watch was set up to wait for the people that were living there.
In the meantime, the social worker had to find a place at a local children’s home for Antony. After she had telephoned around a few and found a place, she set off and took him with her, leaving the car window open slightly to let some fresh air in.
After a long struggle, they managed to get Antony into the bath and, to their surprise, saw that this long-haired, feral boy was blonde. He was pretty. The carers at the home found him some clothing that fitted and burnt the things they had found him in. Now it was up to the nurse to cut his hair and get rid of the lice, and give him a full medical.
It was hard going because Antony fought them all the way, biting and lashing out until they had to restrain him to clean him up. The next few days were a long round of constant battles, of Antonias trying to escape while they tried to help him. They found out no more information, they only had his name and date of birth, and no one came forward to claim him. This boy was truly a mystery; it seemed like he had just fallen out of the sky and landed there.
Even though they knew it would be futile, the police carried out some investigations around the area they had found him in, and spoke to the homeless people that were known to them. They drew a blank; even if these people did know anything, they wouldn’t say so, in case they had got into some kind of trouble themselves.
***
When Annette and her friends arrived back at the squat, they saw that it was impossible to get in. The place had been well secured. Her first instinct had been panic and she had run towards the house, then she noticed the police officer nearby and decided to walk away.
She wondered where Antonias was … was he still living on the streets, was he looking for her? He’d turn up, he always did. She turned and took one last look at the house, then went to join her friends on the street corner.
Annette hoped her son was okay, and was comforted by the fact he was fully adept at life on the streets and could look after himself. A car stopped in front of her, and a man rolled down his window and asked her, ‘How much?’ She told him twenty pounds, because that was the price of her next heroin packet. She was a full-blown addict, now. The man nodded, and they drove off together; business was business, after all.
What Annette didn’t realise was that she would never see Antonias again. Her young son was lost to her forever.
***
Antonias’s head lice infestation had been so bad, it turned out to be easier to shave his head and start again. He had fought them all the way.
He felt confined in the room they had given him. Although he had a bed and warmth and three meals a day, he would pace his room all night, not able to sleep. He knew his mother was out there looking for him; if he could only get a message to her, she would come and take him away from all this regimental routine.
Antonias went into the day room, where there was a snooker table and a television. He had never actually seen one this close up before, only through shop windows, and then there was no sound.
There were other boys there, who obviously thought they owned the place. They circled him, laughing at his shaved head. They were all in the same boat, in a children’s home, but they felt they were better than Antonias.
Life on the streets had taught him well. He just watched them, laughing like hyenas and circling. When they started pushing him around, Antonias dodged them and sat down in a chair, in front of the television.
‘Move out the way, baldy, that’s my chair,’ a boy who was older than him said. He was mean-looking and putting on an even braver front than usual, to impress his friends.
‘You tell him, Stevie!’ one of the other boys said, and the rest jeered.
Stevie’s bravado, especially with all his friends backing him up, might have frightened some of the other boys, but it didn’t frighten Antonias.
‘No’, he answered sullenly, ‘I’m sitting here. Find somewhere else.’ He had been intimidated by bullies before and knew the only way to stop it was to get in there first and show them he wouldn’t stand for it.
For the time being, he was stuck here, and he had to make his point. The older boy and his friends stood in front of him.
‘You still smell like a skunk,’ said Stevie. ‘Now, get out of my chair!’
He grabbed Antonias by the shirt and started pulling him out of the chair, and then punched him in the face. Antonias fell to the floor. The other boys all started laughing as Antonias lay on the floor, being kicked by the older boy.
None of the carers were around; they usually let the boys spend time doing their own thing, relaxing with their friends.
Antonias rolled over; he wouldn’t cry, he was determined not to. He saw the snooker cue, and reached out and grabbed it. With one large sweep of his arm, he hit the older boy in the stomach with the cue.
Stevie fell onto the floor, gasping for breath and holding his stomach. His friends stopped laughing. Antonias stood up and lifted the snooker cue again, and brought it down even harder across the boy’s back. Stevie was now screaming in pain.
Someone ran out to get one of the carers, but they were already on their way, having heard the screams.
One of them restrained Antonias by putting his arms around him tightly.
‘Drop the snooker cue, Antony,’ one of the male carers said. He wasn’t the one restraining Antonias, he stood and faced him. ‘Put it down, now.’
Antonias threw the cue onto the floor, and then struggled to get free from the carer who held him.
‘If Danny lets you go, Antony, will you calm down and behave?’ said the one who was doing the talking.
Antonias looked him in the eye and nodded his head; he knew he was beaten, there was nothing else he could do. Once he had been released, he walked back over to the chair he’d been sitting in and sat down in it again. He had made his point, no one was going to bully him again if they knew what was good for them.
He was told, later, that he wouldn’t be getting any pocket money that week and he would have to do chores, as a penance for his behaviour.
Antonias just shrugged his shoulders; he’d never had any pocket money anyway, that was no big threat to him, and at least there would still be food on the table.
After that, whenever Antonias walked into the day room, Stevie and his gang avoided him; he wasn’t worth the hassle, there were easier targets to pick on.
The other boys tended to keep their distance, too. Only one of them tried to become friends with Antonias. He sauntered over to the chair Antonias sat in while he was watching TV, one day.
‘My name’s Eddie, and you’re one crazy bastard,’ he said, then he laughed and held his hand out.
Antonias didn’t raise his hand to shake Eddie’s, he just raised his eyes and looked at the dark-haired boy, who was maybe one or two years older. ‘Antony,’ was all he said, then he continued watching the television. Eddie sat down in the chair next to him and watched the programme with him.
Antonias was biding his time, but always on the lookout for an opportunity to get away. He saw his chance when the front door was left open, after a delivery man came, and he ran for it. His lungs breathed in the street air, and the wind blew through him. Freedom!
Antonias ran back to his old haunts, the places he had lived with his mother. Firstly, he went to the squat and saw the metal shutters at the windows; as much as he walked around the place, he could see there was no way in.
He ran all the way to the street corner where his mother and his ‘aunties’ used to stand, looking for trade. He recognized a couple of the women, there.
‘Have you seen Tilly and Annette?’ he asked them. He was breathing heavily, because he had been running. They looked at him oddly, and then one of them smiled.
‘Blimey, it’s you Antony, I didn’t recognize you with your new haircut. How are you?’
He smiled, embarrassed by his appearance, and ran his hands over his shaved head.
‘Have you seen Annette?’ he said, again. He looked at the woman pleadingly, waiting for an answer.
‘No, love, I think they found another squat somewhere, not sure where, love.’ The woman opened her handbag and took out a five-pound note. ‘Here, take this,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ said Antonias.
The woman turned around to talk to her friends again, ignoring him completely.
Antonias’s next visit was to the soup kitchen. His mother usually went there with him, when trade was slow, and her dealers met there. If she had found another squat, she would have left a message for someone to pass on to him.
He went into the old church hall and scoured the long benches, full of people he knew. He sat on the benches one by one, working his way around the hall, and enquired after his mother. Annette had left no message; everyone shook their head. Antonias wasn’t stupid; he knew that, even if they knew where she was, they weren’t going to tell him, that was the code. Only this time, the code was working against him.
When he walked out of the church hall, he was tired, he was frustrated, and he felt like crying, but he held it in. Then he saw Benny the dealer, or as his mother had called him, Benny the medicine man.
He ran up to him and touched his arm. ’Benny, have you seen Annette? Has she been for her medicine?’
Benny was a tall black man, aged around thirty, and always wore a black trilby hat. He flinched when he felt Antonias grab his arm, but then he saw who it was and smiled at him.
‘Antony, my mate, give me five!’ He held his hand up to give Antonias a ‘high five’. ‘I saw her yesterday, mate, you two lost each other?’ Benny found that odd. Antony was Annette’s rock. She depended on him for everything. This young kid looked after his mother, laid her down to sleep when she was drunk or off her head on drugs. He had even learnt how to use a syringe, so when her hands were shaking so much she couldn’t inject herself, she could still have her medicine.
Benny liked Antony, he was a good kid, and had often dropped drugs off for him at people’s doors, when he was too busy.
‘Tell her I’m at the children’s home, in South London. Tell her to come. Promise me, Benny.’ Antonias was relieved someone had seen her. As soon as she knew where he was, she would come for him.
‘The children’s home?’ said Benny. Now he was confused. Why was Antony in a children’s home? Benny had seen Annette, she was high on drugs, but she had never mentioned Antony was missing.
‘Of course I will tell her, my man, no problem. She’s probably out there looking for you, anyway.’
Antonias breathed a sigh of relief; his mother was okay, and now she would know where he was. She would be sure to seek out Benny, he was her dealer, and sometimes he brought clients around to the squat to save her from going out.
Many was the time Antonias had sat in one of the other dark, damp rooms, while his mother had entertained one of her friends on the mattress on the floor. He had heard the sounds coming from the room, and then the door would open and the man would leave.
‘Go to Benny on the corner, Antony,’ she’d say, ‘he’ll be there by now. Mummy needs some medicine. While you’re at it, work your magic and steal me a bottle of wine. I’ll share it with you.’
Annette would hand him some of the money she had just earned and he would run down to Benny, get his mother’s medicine, and then run into the local off-licence and steal a bottle of wine.
Antonias had started drinking a while ago. There wasn’t any water in the squat and so, sometimes, that was all there was to drink. There was usually some left in a bottle, after his mother and the other prostitutes had had a party, and so when he’d been thirsty in the night, he had picked up that bottle and emptied it.
As Antonias was walking away from Benny, a police patrol car stopped. Antonias had been reported missing by the children’s home, and they were on the lookout for him.
‘Antony Perry?’ an officer said, as he got out of the car. ‘We’ve been looking for you’.
Antonias’s first instinct was to run. He looked across the road to where he’d been talking to Benny, and saw the dealer had gone. The last thing Benny wanted was the police seeing him.
Antony did as he was told and got in the police car. He decided it was for the best; after all, his mother would definitely come for him now, just as soon as Benny told her where he was.
Yet again, he was lectured and told any privileges he was entitled to would be taken away. He couldn’t go to the cinema with the others, as a treat. This was no hardship to Antonias, he’d never been to the cinema, anyway.
Antonias waited patiently for a month, but there was no word from his mother. The case worker who was in charge of him came regularly, to see if he was okay and whether he needed anything. Time and time again, he was tempted to ask about his mother, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to get her into trouble.
Antonias had to go to school, and he hated it there. More rules to abide by, and more adults taking control of his life. It stifled him.
‘I’ve found you a foster family, Antony, it’ll get you away from here,’ his case worker announced one day. ‘You’ll be well looked after, there.’ The social worker actually looked pleased, but Antonias was horrified.
If he left this place, his mother wouldn’t know where to find him, he’d be back to square one.
‘I don’t want to go, I like it here,’ he lied. He hated it, but no one ever bothered him. There was just Eddie, who often sat with Antonias and watched television with him. He had become a friend, in his own way, and would often share his chocolate bar with Antonias, when more privileges were taken away after he’d been fighting again, or skipped school.
Antonias had been forced to go and have a meeting with the foster family. His hair had grown back, and he looked clean and well nourished.
The man and woman had two sons of their own. They eyed him up and down. He looked like a nice kid, but that wild look in those piercing blue eyes made them feel uncomfortable.
Antonias sat there, sullen and not speaking to them. He didn’t want to be there, and he didn’t want to see the bedroom they had prepared for him. He listened to their plans for him, and how they would love to have him stay. He was bored, and showed it.
Within a couple of weeks, he was taken to live with the family. He soon learned that the show of welcome they put on in front of the social worker was all a front. They wanted him to clean up after their own children.
Antonias was to be used as a slave, peeling potatoes and cleaning up, while their own sons sat and watched the television. Life on the streets was better than that.
He would go to school, wait until they had taken the register and then run for the freedom of the streets, where he’d spend the day drinking with the alcoholics he knew would be standing around their oil drum, keeping warm.
As usual, the police would come and pick him up, but this time it was to take him to his foster home. They weren’t as easy-going as at the children’s home.
He was shouted at and threatened. The two brothers who lived there would hit him, for making their parents worry, and so Antonias would lash out, and hit them with whatever was at hand.
Eventually, they gave up on him and he was returned to the children’s home. Antonias was glad to see the back of them.
He was also glad to be reunited with Eddie, a friendly face at last. Eddie was due to be fostered out and so Antonias told him all about his short and not-so-sweet experience.
Dangerous Games Page 4
