The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "Argh, argh. You little brat, I'll fuckin' kill you for that." Joe Senior attempted to get to his feet, and then thought better of it in case the little shit had broken his shin.

  Jack was off out the front door, slamming it as he went.

  Helen came rushing downstairs. Mum's finally lost it with him she thought, as she reached the living room door. "What the hell is going on?" she said upon entering the room. She was met with the surreal sight of her father rocking back and forth in his chair, trouser leg rolled up, nursing a bruised ankle. All the time he was cursing Jack and threatening what he would do to him when he caught up with him. She turned to Joe Junior and asked him what had happened.

  Joe motioned with his hands, opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Her mother was fussing around her dad, not quite knowing how to make the situation better. Helen stifled a laugh. Well done Jack, she thought. No-one else in this family would even interrupt their father when he was speaking, but by the look of things little Jack had socked him a good one.

  Victoria could not believe what her youngest son had done. His father would beat him for this, she thought. What had possessed him, and where had he gone? She prayed to god that he would be okay. However, as worried as she was for him, her main priority right now was calming her husband down. It was an ugly looking bruise, there was no hiding the fact. She didn't think the leg was broken though, but that might not be such a good thing. If it was broken, Joe would have to go to hospital and that would give the family valuable breathing time, but if it wasn't and he caught up with Jack tonight he would probably kill him.

  "Stop fussing woman, give me some room. Let me see if I can stand on it. If it is broken, I'll break his neck." Joe pushed himself up from his chair taking as much of his body weight as he could on his good leg. He then tested the injured one on the floor. He winced at the pain. His ankle hurt, but not as much as he thought it was going to do. He hobbled over to the sofa, turned on his good leg, and hobbled back. "I'll kill him for this, you'll see. Just wait 'till I get my hands on him."

  Due to the fact that Joe Senior had done such a thorough job of indoctrinating his family no-one now noticed the lack of conviction in his tone.

  Injured or not Joe still managed to make it down the pub that evening, accompanied by his eldest son. The incident with Jack had made him worse tempered than usual. He had warned Joe Junior that under no circumstances should he divulge the cause of his father's limp, and if asked just to say that he had injured it at work.

  Joe Junior was still bemused by the whole incident and thought it best just to agree with everything his father said on the matter. He did not particularly enjoy the evening, he was the type of person who preferred a simple, uncomplicated life, and events such as this did not fit in with this ideal. if he was honest with himself, he'd always expected that someone would one day take his father to task for his surly attitude, but he never imagined in his wildest dreams, it would be his little brother.

  His father had taken a lot of persuading to leave the pub that night. However, after a great deal of careful coaxing, he eventually he succumbed, and they left for home.

  "You know Joe, you are the only one I really trust in that family." Joe Senior said to his son, shaking his index finger at him, observing him through bleary eyes. "They all hate me." he said pausing in the road. Suddenly, a profound statement came to him. However, after a couple of seconds he set off walking again, having totally forgotten what it was. Joe's mind was racing; this was undoubtedly the thin end of the wedge. If he did not re-assert his authority within the family and quickly, they'd all think it was okay to have a pop at him. He hated that little shit. He'd show him, he'd show them all. He had to because if word of this got out, he'd be a laughingstock. An image of two old dears passing him in the street, suddenly surfaced in his mind, they were whispering to one another and sniggering. Well he'd give them something to talk about, that was for sure. He just had to decide what retribution to take, that was all. His head ached; the world seemed as though it was a 45rpm record been played on 78.

  After his father and Joe were safely out of sight Jack returned back to the house. He felt no remorse for what he had done. In fact, he'd decided that as soon as he was big enough, he was going to give him a proper pasting.

  "Jack, what possessed you to lash out at your father like that? He'll be like a bear with a sore head for days now because of this, because of you."

  "I'm sorry mum."

  His mother hugged him.

  Jack was angered by the fact that his father could pick on any of them for no reason whatsoever, and no-one batted an eyelid, but as soon as he got a tiny bit of his own medicine everyone acted as if the whole world had come to an end. His anger over-rode his concern about what punishment his father would have in store for him. He felt as though his life was coming into focus. Suddenly, he was starting to take notice of his own thoughts and opinions rather than constantly listening to other people's.

  "I think you'd better go and stay at Tom's for the night. Just for tonight, I'll write Elizabeth a note."

  "No mum, I don't want to stay at Tom's. I'm not frightened of him, he's just a bully and a coward."

  Victoria's head reeled, what was going on with Jack, was it Tom's influence? After all, the boy had no father of his own to look up to. She felt sick to the stomach. "Jack! What is going on with you? That's your father you are talking about. Stop it please, please stop it." she sat down and started to cry.

  John had found the whole evening's events highly entertaining. Jack had certainly risen in his estimation, that was for sure. Who would've believed little Jack would have the guts to belt the old man? But boy was he in for it when their father caught up with him. And that thought gave him a warm feeling inside.

  "Come on mum don't cry." Jack said patting his mother on the shoulder. I wish he was dead, Jack thought, what a pity he wasn't killed in that mining accident with Tom's dad.

  Victoria finally calmed down, the boys went to their room, and she settled in her chair with her needlework. This was ordinarily her favourite part of the day, when Joe was out either working or at the pub. This was her few hours of freedom, and the only time when she felt completely relaxed. She would often use this time to think back to the good old days. The early years of their marriage when they had been a true partnership full of hopes and dreams. He'd been a real catch back then had Joe Davies. She couldn't believe it when he'd first asked her out. He had always been a tough cookie, but he was always nice to her back then. God, how she ached for those days.

  Unfortunately, tonight, as hard as she tried, she couldn't get the earlier events of the evening out of her mind. She knew that there was no way on earth that Joe would let this go. He'd probably vent his anger on all of them. She just worried that one day he'd go too far. She went to bed at ten thirty in the knowledge that it would be at least an hour before Joe returned from the pub.

  She was acutely concerned for Jack's safety, so much so, that she took a kitchen knife to bed with her and stowed it under her side of the mattress. God help her if he found it, but she had no other choice. The clock ticked away, every second seemed to take a minute, and every minute seemed to take an hour. On more than one occasion she picked up the clock to check whether it had stopped or not.

  At ten to twelve Victoria heard a key turn in the front door. Immediately, her heart began to race.

  "Here it is you open it." Joe Senior said to his son, knowing that he was probably incapable of performing even this simple task.

  Joe unlocked the front door and helped his father inside. He went to guide him over towards his chair, but his father pushed him away grunting something about not being an invalid.

  Joe Senior slumped in his chair and took out a pack of Park Drives from his coat pocket. He removed one from the packet and valiantly tried to light it. The tip eventually glowed, and a line of smoke rose towards the ceiling.

  Joe Junior was now caught between two courses of action. Alt
hough he desperately wanted to go to bed and put an end to this dreadful evening, he did not want to leave his father alone in his present state. He decided he'd go upstairs and get ready for bed before coming back down and checking on him. He wished his father good night, and Joe Senior responded by half-raising his hand off his armchair. However, he didn't attempt to make eye contact with his son, instead he just continued to stare off into space, his face devoid of any emotion. Joe could not remember ever seeing his father like this, and it made him feel extremely uneasy. He just hoped his father would be okay. Joe took longer than normal getting ready for bed in the hope that by the time he had finished his father would have either decided to go to bed himself or fallen asleep in his chair.

  Joe finally descended the stairs. He could feel a draft in the hallway and clasped both his forearms and rubbed them for warmth. He approached the lounge door and gave it a gentle knock. He turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door. His dad was fast asleep and breathing heavily. His cigarette was a line of ash in the ashtray. Joe felt relief course through his body, and just hoped that his father would see things differently in the morning. He removed his dressing gown and placed it over his father, tucking it in gently down both sides of his armchair.

  Joe Senior dreamed restlessly. He was in the work's canteen, queuing for his lunch. He could hear the other workers whispering and laughing. He was sure they were talking about him. He listened as intently as he could, in an effort to decipher exactly what it was they were discussing. He looked round and recognised two of his workmates who had just joined the queue - Rob Ford (Tom's dad) and Jim Henley both of whom had died in the tragedy of 1948. Joe's paranoia about being talked about disappeared in an instant.

  "Rob, Jim, you both got out alive. Thank God, thank God."

  "Yes, we got out, but it was no thanks to you Davies." Jim Henley retorted leering at Joe with fiery eyes.

  "I did try to help you, you've got to believe that lads, I really did. "Joe was beginning to feel queasy, he felt too hot and had lost his appetite completely.

  "Move up Davies, we haven't eaten in five years." Rob Ford said pushing Joe's tray forward with his own. "Some fucking diet, eh?" He laughed loudly exposing badly rotted teeth, and that smell, what was that smell?

  "I'm sorry Davies, that's us I'm afraid." Jim Henley said nudging Rob Ford. "Look at his face Rob, he looks deader than us! Want to see a trick Davies, it's better than any card trick, this one?"

  Joe nodded, but more out of fear than curiosity. If he was honest, he'd rather not see the trick, he had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't be pleasant.

  Jim put a hand to his face and with his forefinger and thumb dug deep on either side of his left eyeball.

  Joe cringed and felt sure he was going to feint. The sight horrified him, but he was unable to look away.

  The eyeball made a squelching noise as Jim wriggled it in its socket. Then it made a pop as it finally came free. Jim, who was smiling a ghoulish smile throughout the whole performance, wrapped the accompanying vein around the eyeball in a delicate motion, dunked it in his stew several times before popping it into his mouth. He chewed it up and swallowed it. "Top that if you can Davies" Jim and Rob rocked with laughter.

  "That's tuppence sir." a voice from behind him said, making him jump.

  He turned to see his daughter Helen sat at the cash register wearing a very low-cut top.

  "Helen, what are you doing working here?" he said feeling completely bemused.

  "Shush." she said leaning forward and giving him a passionate kiss.

  "Helen, stop it, please stop it, please."

  He awoke in a hot sweat to find Jess, the brat's pet dog nuzzling and licking at his face. He pushed the dog away with the back of his hand and sighed heavily. His head throbbed. "Fuckin' dreams." he said out loud, getting up to wash his face. "Argh, shit." he cried out in pain. He'd forgotten all about his injured leg, and now suddenly the events of the previous evening came flooding back to him. "Little bastard." he muttered to himself as he hobbled towards the kitchen sink. "I'll make you pay for this, if it's the last thing I do."

  Jess trotted after him, tail wagging, in anticipation of an early breakfast.

  Suddenly, it came to him like a bolt from the blue, how to get his revenge on that little turd. The kid loved that fuckin' mutt more than anything else in the world. He quickly washed his face and craned his neck to see the clock on the kitchen wall - twenty to four, perfect. A smile came to his face. He reached up to the cupboard and brought down Jess's food. Then bent down and gingerly picked up its bowl.

  Jess's panting increased.

  "Good doggie, good doggie." Joe said patting Jess on the head.

  Jess rewarded the gesture by licking Joe's hand.

  Joe grimaced and wiped it on his trouser leg. "Good doggie." he repeated. Having ladled dog food into the bowl, he headed for the front door. "Come on Jess." he said, and Jess followed him eagerly. Joe unlocked the front door as quietly as he possibly could and followed Jess outside.

  Oh, Christ Joe thought as Jess bolted out into the field. Come back here you little shit, and just as if she'd heard his thought, Jess rounded in a large curve, and ran back to him. "Good dog." he whispered as he headed towards the shed at the side of the house, his leg throbbing harder in the early morning chill. "You'll be sorry you ever crossed me, you little bastard." Joe said. His heart pounded as he opened the shed door and ventured inside. Jess followed. He searched around, blindly but quietly. "Where is it, where the fuck is it?" he cursed before finally finding what it was, he was looking for. He started back towards the door, Jess was beginning to make quite a racket, so he placed her food on the floor, she eagerly tucked into it. Joe glanced up at the house, just to make sure no-one had heard the dog's barks. Having re-assured himself that they hadn't, he took a firm grip of the hammer and drew his arm back to head height. Jess suddenly stopped eating and looked up at him. Feeling stupid but doing it anyway Joe pretended to scratch his back.

  After a couple of seconds, Jess, still not quite able to believe her luck at receiving this early treat, continued to eat her food.

  I can't do it, he thought, I can't kill the damn dog. It's never done any harm to me, well not really, anyway. Then he saw Jack's face flushed with rage and screaming; 'I hate you; you pig!' at him.

  He raised the hammer again, and this time, he brought it down swiftly on Jess's skull. The dog yelped once and fell on her side. She lay there whimpering. He hit her again and again, until he was sure she was dead. Blood trickled from Jess's muzzle, and a tear trickled from Joe’s eye. He wiped it away. However, remorse still swept over him and it hurt like hell. The dog was the first living thing he had ever killed, apart from insects of course, but they were cold blooded. He realised that he had no time for guilt, and quickly pushed the feeling aside. He searched the shed again, this time for his spade. He found it, and also an old sheet. He was beginning to panic and had to take a couple of seconds to compose himself. He wiped the hammer on the sheet and put it back. He wrapped the dog in the sheet and carried it into the woods.

  On his return to the house, he was grateful to find that all the lights were still out. Nevertheless, he still felt extremely apprehensive. That's because you’re a coward, killing your kid's dog. How low can you go? a voice in his head enquired. Much fuckin' lower, if necessary, does that suit you? he informed it. He cleaned the spade before returning it to the shed. He collected the dog bowl and returned to the house. It was a shade after five thirty, he still had plenty of time, but he'd better hurry, just to be on the safe side. He brushed his trousers down, urinated in the sink, and went back to his chair.

  Sleep eluded him, and his mind raced. Fuckin' coward the rogue voice declared. This time Joe couldn't be bothered to answer it, instead he just huddled lower in his chair in an attempt to stop shivering.

  5

  Jack awoke at eight o'clock. He'd had a pleasant dream, and as he stretched his arms out, he felt great. That was until he reme
mbered the events of the previous evening. Oh well, he supposed he'd have to face the music sooner or later, so he decided to get up immediately and get it over with.

  To his surprise, his father did not take him to task, he just gave him the cold shoulder treatment, and that he could deal with. "where's Jess?" he asked his mother through a mouthful of toast.

  "He went out after he'd had his breakfast." Victoria said.

  "Okay mum, I'm going over to Tom's, I'll see you later."

  "Okay, bye love."

  Jack stepped out into the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, the sky was clear blue, and the sun beat down on his shoulders. He felt wonderful. He arrived at Tom's to find Jane doing some weeding in the front garden. She looked up and flashed him a smile.

  "Ay-ah Jack, how are you today?"

  "Fine thanks, Jane. Is Tom in?"

  "Yes, I think so, I'll go and get him for you." She put her trowel to one side, got up and dusted herself down. "Come in."

  Jack followed her into the house.

  “Tom, Jack's here." she called out

  "He's not in." Sally shouted from the lounge.

  "Where is he?"

  "He's at the farm."

  "Oh yes that's right. Sorry Jack, he's working this morning." she glanced at her watch, "He'll be a good couple of hours yet," she said apologetically. "You're welcome to stay and wait for him, if you like."

  "Thanks, but I'll get off... unless, unless you want a hand in the garden, turning the soil over or something."

  "That would be great," she said smiling at him, "if you're sure you don't mind." She'd wanted to do all the gardening, for her mother, today but she was finding it hard work. Sally was as much use as a glass hammer, so Jack's help would be more than appreciated.

  "No, off course I don't mind."

  He's quite nice, Jane thought, a bit too young for her mind but nevertheless he had something about him, he seemed at ease with himself, and she liked that." "I'll just get the shovel from the shed; I won't be a minute." The shed held a dank musty smell, it needed clearing out, but the thought of all those spiders sent shivers down her spine. She grabbed the shovel and retreated quickly. "Here you are," she said passing Jack the shovel, "no regrets?"