The Betrayer

by Kimberley Chambers

  Sandra, Brenda and the other girls had made the house look as clean as a whistle. They had taken down the cards and banners, put the food away and cleared up any traces of the party. ‘It’s best she’s not reminded of it,’ Brenda insisted.

  When Ethel arrived she had no update on Tommy’s arrest, and no idea where Maureen was. Sandra made her a cup of tea and told her the little they knew. Ethel, being Ethel, was still furious about her own arrest. ‘Fucking load of cunts. What a fucking liberty,’ she kept repeating.

  Maureen’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as she neared her house. What the hell was she meant to tell everyone? It was such a close-knit community; everybody knew everybody. Mary Smith might live in Bethnal Green, but it was only down the road and she was still part of their community. The East End wasn’t perfect, it was littered with thieves, wide boys and scoundrels, but there was one unwritten rule: ‘You don’t shit on your own doorstep.’

  Taking a deep breath, Maureen put her key in the lock. It was time to face the music.

  Sandra was the first to greet her. ‘Well? Where’s Tommy?’ she asked expectantly, as Ethel and the others stood behind her.

  Maureen could barely look at them. ‘Get me a drink, summink strong. I need to sit down.’

  James had lain awake for hours. He was so worried about his big brother. Why had the police taken him away? And when was he coming back? Hearing his mum return, he crept onto the landing. He needed to earwig and find out what was going on.

  Maureen gulped the whole glass of brandy and put her head in her hands. Ethel guessed what had happened and decided to help her daughter-in-law out. ‘Don’t bother trying to explain, we can guess. The little bastard’s guilty? He killed Terry Smith?’

  Between sobs, Maureen somehow managed to speak. ‘Yes, Mum. Our Tommy’s a murderer, he’s admitted to it.’

  Sandra, Brenda and the other girls all glanced at one another. No one said a word.

  James frantically ran back to his room. His brother was the best, he couldn’t be a murderer. The policemen must have made a mistake. Remembering the new toy his uncle Kenny had brought him, he pulled it out from under the bed. He’d always had a thing about police cars. ‘I’m gonna be a policeman one day when I’m a big boy,’ he’d told everyone. Well, not any more – he hated them now. They’d taken away his beloved brother.

  James opened the bedroom window, ‘I hate you, you pig bastards,’ he shouted, as the car smashed on the coal bunker below.

  Shivering, James climbed into bed and sobbed himself to sleep.

  FIVE

  The next six months were probably the worst in Maureen’s life. She’d fully expected her Tommy to be charged with manslaughter and receive a lesser sentence, but it wasn’t to be. The authorities had decided to make an example of him. The jury had found him guilty of murder and he’d received fifteen years for his crime. As the judge announced the sentence, Maureen felt her legs go from under her.

  ‘Noooo! It was an accident. Tell ’em, Mum, tell ’em,’ were the words she heard her son scream as her friends helped carry her out of the court.

  Once a respected pillar of the community, Maureen felt this was no longer the case. Everywhere she went she heard the whispers, noticed the stares, and even the rag-and-bone man now gave her a wide berth. No one had actually blamed her face to face and even Mary Smith had squeezed her hand outside the court and offered her words of comfort. Maureen had felt terrible about this. She had expected the murdered lad’s mum to come at her like a rabid dog, but Mary hadn’t blamed her at all. Mary’s friends and family most certainly did. Maureen could see the hatred in their eyes. It was as though they were silently trying to tell her that if she had been a better parent, none of this would have happened.

  Her mother-in-law and her own friends had been fantastic. They were always popping round to check she was all right and she was never left alone for long. Maureen’s social life had flown right out of the window from the day that Tommy was arrested. She could never face going to the bingo hall again. Mary and her friends had used it for years and Maureen couldn’t face the gossip and the shame. She’d even stopped joining in with the regular Saturday-night parties. How could she dance, drink and be happy, when her son had wiped out a young boy’s life? The odd cup of tea with a friend or a quick pop up the shops was all she could manage these days. She seemed to have lost her sparkle, her sense of humour, and the lack of activity suited her down to the ground. Maureen’s thoughts were disturbed by her daughter’s whining voice.

  ‘Mum, I’m bored sitting upstairs. Can I go outside and play? I’m sorry for what I said the other day, and I promise I’ll never say it again.’

  Maureen shot her daughter a disdainful look. Susan had been grounded for the last two days and had been sent to her room in disgrace. The headmistress of her daughter’s school had contacted Maureen and asked her to pop in. Apparently, Susan had been threatening some of the kids there. She’d been demanding their dinner money, while bragging about Tommy.

  ‘You either pay up, or when my bruvver gets out, I’ll make sure you’re next on his hit list,’ she’d boasted cockily.

  One of the teachers had witnessed Susan demanding money from fellow pupils on numerous occasions. When questioned, two of the kids had broken down. This was why the headmistress was now involved and Maureen was bloody well furious.

  ‘You can go out, Susan, for two hours. But, I swear, girl, if I ever hear that you’ve been bragging about your bruvver again, I will personally fucking doughboy yer. Do you understand me?’

  Susan nodded and walked away.

  Maureen made herself a brew and went upstairs to see James. Her poor baby was a shadow of his former self and she was so worried about him. James had idolised Tommy and had followed him about like a lost puppy. Now his brother was no longer about, James spent most of his time alone in his room. Maureen’s heart went out to him as she opened the bedroom door. He was kneeling on the carpet playing with a toy truck, his face a picture of sadness.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Mummy,’ James said quietly.

  Maureen sat on the bed and handed him a white paper bag. ‘I bought you a present from the baker’s. It’s a gingerbread man, your favourite.’

  James took the bag and sat on the bed next to her. He wasn’t hungry, but nibbled his present out of politeness. ‘Mummy, when you go and see Tommy again, please let me come with you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.’

  Maureen held him close to her. Tommy was in Feltham Borstal and it was miles away, a poxy journey. With money being tight, she’d only been there the once herself. ‘Where Tommy’s staying is not a very nice place, James. I’ll take you there when you’re a bit older.’

  James threw himself against her chest and sobbed. Lifting his head, he looked her in the eyes and pleaded with her. ‘Please take me to see him, Mummy. I don’t care if it’s not nice. Please, Mum, can I go?’

  Maureen looked into his angelic little eyes and didn’t have the heart to say no. She didn’t want James to visit a bloody borstal, but what could she do? ‘OK, I’ll arrange a visit and take you, but first you must eat all that gingerbread man and promise me that you’re not gonna sit in your bedroom all the time from now on. Mr Benn’s on telly in a minute, let’s watch it together, eh?’

  James smothered her with kisses. ‘When can we go, Mum? Can we go tomorrow?’ he asked excitedly.

  Maureen cupped his precious face. He looked happier now than she’d seen him in months. ‘You musn’t be impatient, James. Mummy has to organise some money and book the visit. I’ll try and sort something out tomorrow, see if I can scrape together the train fare for this weekend.’

  James picked up his gingerbread man and tucked into it. He was so excited, he couldn’t wait to see his big brother. Surely once Tommy saw him, he’d want to come back home. And then they’d be happy again, like they were before.

  Susan was filled with excitement as she watched Jeanett
e Dickenson walk into the sweet shop. Grinning, she urged her friend Tracey to follow her and hide behind the furniture shop. Susan couldn’t stand Jeanette Dickenson. Jeanette had everything in life that she didn’t. Her mum was slim and modern, her dad had a good job. She had a brand new Chopper bike, a cute little puppy called Simba, and she always had loads of money for sweets and stuff.

  Peeping around the wall, Susan saw Jeanette coming towards her with her usual bag of goodies. Nudging Tracey to follow her lead, she leaped out from behind the wall and grabbed Jeanette by her stupid ponytail. ‘Give us your sweets and your money,’ she demanded.

  Jeanette’s eyes filled with tears. She’d had run-ins with Susan Hutton in the past and was petrified of her. ‘I can’t, the sweets are for my little brothers and the money is my mum’s change.’

  Tracey was desperate to impress her new friend. Spotting the puppy, she aimed a kick at its head.

  The dog’s yelp was enough to make Jeanette change her mind.

  ‘Just take it,’ she said, handing over the bag and her mother’s change.

  Susan released her grip on Jeanette’s hair and pointed a finger in her face.

  ‘If you say one word to yer mum or dad, I’m gonna do the same to your dog as what my bruvver did to Terry Smith.’

  Jeanette shook with fear as she picked up poor Simba. ‘I promise I won’t say a word. I’ll pretend to mum that I lost the pound note she gave me.’

  ‘Best yer get yourself home then,’ Tracey said, giving her a sly kick in the ankle as a farewell present.

  Arm in arm, Susan and Tracey ran down the road laughing their heads off. Satisfied with their five minutes’ work, they sat on a wall and counted their earnings. Fifty-two pence, two Curly Wurlys, a Mars bar, two Sherbet Fountains and a big bag of penny sweets.

  Susan smiled at her friend. ‘Go back to the shop, buy some bubble gum and get some change so we can split the money.’

  Susan stuffed her face with penny sweets as she watched Tracey run off up the road. Up until a couple of months ago, she hadn’t a friend in the world.

  Tracey Davis and her family had recently been moved from Canning Town to Stepney. Tracey’s brother, Andrew, had apparently mugged an old pensioner in Newham and the old dear had later died of head injuries. There had been a lot of ill-feeling in the area about the incident and Tracey and her family were rehoused by the council on the Ocean Estate in Stepney. Her brother, Andrew, was now in prison paying for his crime. On sharing secrets about their brothers, Tracey and Susan had an immediate bond. Both shared vindictive personalities and, having palled up, were a match made in heaven.

  Tracey was out of breath as she ran back to her mate. ‘That’s your half and that’s mine,’ she rasped, as she counted out the money.

  Susan giggled. ‘Let’s have a bet. First one to eat a Curly Wurly gets the packet of bubble gum.’

  Tracey laughed as she counted down. ‘Three, two, one – go.’

  Mouths full, the race was on.

  Unaware that his sister was making money out of his name, Tommy Hutton trudged out onto the playing fields with the other lads. He smiled at his pal, Freddie, as Finchy gave them their orders.

  ‘Right lads. No kicking, spitting, biting, punching or slide tackling from behind. Got it?’

  Twenty-two heads nodded and the whistle was blown. Today’s game of footie was a proper match for once. Usually they just trained or had a game amongst themselves, but this was different, it was one wing against another.

  Tommy already had his orders. He was to scythe down the Paki kid, Ranjit Patel. Apparently, Patel had set fire to his family home, killing his kid sister and grandmother. Tommy got his chance within minutes, seeing his prey lying on the ground, he pretended to go for the ball, but instead kicked the sicko full in the mouth, loosening two of his front teeth. Tommy was immediately shown the red card.

  ‘It was an accident, sir. I went for the ball.’

  Finchy was having none of it. ‘You’re off, Hutton. Go and sit down on the grass and I’ll deal with you later.’

  Tommy smiled to himself as he sat alone watching the game. He’d hated Feltham when he’d first arrived. In fact, he’d made a right prick of himself, crying himself to sleep night after night. Things had changed after about six weeks. He’d got his head together, found his inner strength, and hit it off with Freddie Adams.

  In the early days of being caged, Tommy had kept himself to himself. He’d spoken to some of the lads, but not at length. A couple of them were all right, but a lot of them were thickos. Bored with his own company, he searched his wing for someone on his wavelength. He couldn’t find anyone but, as luck would have it, Freddie then turned up.

  For the first couple of days, Tommy eyed the new boy suspiciously. Freddie was a typical jack the lad. He had a way with people, knew how to work them, had them eating out of his hand. Tommy found himself alone with Freddie for the first time about a week later. They clicked immediately and were best buddies within the hour.

  Freddie was in for murder as well, but had gone one better than Tommy. He’d nicked his brother’s gun and shot his victim straight through the head. Obviously, he lied in court. He said he was just threatening the lad and the gun had gone off accidently. The judge had fallen for Freddie’s baby face and boyish charm, and had given him a rather lenient twelve years.

  ‘I was lucky really, I sort of acted simple. I think the jury thought I was a bit backward and by the time the case ended, even the judge felt sorry for me,’ Freddie boasted.

  Tommy was fascinated by his new-found friend. Freddie was a year younger than himself, but acted far older and wiser. He came from Manor Park and his older brother and uncle were armed robbers, so maybe that’s where he got it from.

  Tommy’s attentions were turned back to the present as he noticed the commotion on the football pitch. Seeing Freddie had gotten his marching orders, Tommy smiled as he walked towards him. Freddie’s intended target had been Kevin Wallis, who was a complete weirdo and by all accounts a nonce-case. Rumour had it, he was locked up for fiddling with a six year old.

  ‘I was daydreaming. I didn’t see yer do him,’ Tommy said, as his pal flopped on the grass next to him.

  ‘I elbowed the cunt as I went up for a corner. I did that good a job, I think I nearly took his eye out.’

  Tommy laughed. ‘Whaddya think our punishment will be this time?’

  Freddie shrugged. ‘Don’t know, don’t care. We’ll be all right, Finchy knows we only do the wrong ’uns.’

  At the end of the game, both Tommy and Freddie were summoned into Finchy’s office.

  ‘Look lads, I won’t go to the guv’nor, but that’s the second week in a row two lads have received medical treatment on your behalf. I have to punish you, so it’s no TV for either of you for a week, starting from tonight. Now go and get showered, then back to your cells, both of you.’

  Tommy and Freddie were in high spirits as they got showered and changed. Their punishment was a piece of piss. Freddie’s cell was right next door to Tommy’s, and they’d learnt how to communicate by tapping on the wall. They had their own code and were able to have some basic conversations.

  ‘Right, I’ll see yer at dinner,’ Freddie said, as they reached their cells.

  ‘What we gonna do if we can’t watch telly?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘We can have a nice little chat. We need to talk and plan our future.’

  Tommy shook his head. ‘We’re gonna be locked up for years. What’s the fuckin’ point?’

  Freddie grabbed Tommy by the shoulders. ‘Look at me, Tom. We might be boys now, but when we get out we’ll be men. We have to be ready for it.’

  Tommy smiled. As usual, his pal was right.

  SIX

  Ethel Hutton stood outside the hardware store in Dagenham Heathway and eyed the contents suspiciously. A stout woman, Ethel had an old-fashioned dress sense, grey curly hair, and due to her bloody hard life, looked far older than her fifty-six years.

  Et
hel had been thieving for years – case of bloody having to. She never chored locally. A, she’d never take from her own, and B, she was far too well known in the East End even to attempt it.

  Dragging her shopping trolley behind her, Ethel entered the store. Tools always sold well and she needed to have a good day today. Her Maureen was taking James to visit Tommy and she’d promised to give them the train fare.

  There were a few people standing at the counter and the man who was serving was far too busy to be noticing her. Filling her trolley with anything expensive and saleable, Ethel was just about to exit the store when she heard shouting.

  ‘Oi, stop, thief!’

  Unaware that a second member of staff, posing as a customer, had been watching her, Ethel had no other choice than to leave her trolley and leg it. Running up Heathway Hill, she didn’t see the dodgy paving stone. Seconds later, Ethel was lying face down on the ground, writhing with pain.

  ‘Gertcha, cowson,’ she said to the shop worker, as she clutched her ankle.

  The police arrived within minutes.

  James pushed the pouffe towards the window. It was heavy, but he could just about manage to move it without any help. Standing on top of it, he pressed his face against the glass. The old woman who used to live next door had recently died and now there were new neighbours moving in. James was hoping there’d be a boy his age for him to play with.

  ‘Your sore throat seems miraculously better. Don’t be so bleeding nosy, come away from that window,’ Maureen ordered, as she handed him a tray with his egg and chips.

  He’d jibbed off school earlier, saying he was ill, and she was sure he was playing a fast one.

  James smiled as he dipped his bread in the yolk. ‘Do you think there’ll be some boys I can play with, Mummy?’

  Maureen shook her head. ‘Afraid not son. I spoke to ’em earlier. They’ve got a little girl, same age as you.’